Broken

Chapter 9

•Laurance's pov•
  
      "This is a tale of love, tale of hope, a tale of sacrifice, a Tale of Two Cities," says  our director, Mr. Jensen dramatically. "This is quite possibly the most meaningful story to grace our stage. With these characters we will be holding a mirror up to our audience- that is if we do it correctly. I was hesitant to pick this musical, and I'm not sure if it was the right choice. Your challenge is to make me not regret it. Make me cry. Hi. I'm mr. Jensen I am your director."
    "I can make you cry, Mr. Jensen," Kendra smiles in a threatening manor, raising her eyebrow.
    "I guess I picked a right madame DeFarge," Mr. Jensen muttered. "If I end up dead in five years, Kendra did it."
    "They'd never find the body," Kendra promised.
    "Okay then...." he sighed. "So, I sent all your scripts a few weeks ago, and I trust you spent time reading. If not, we're going to have a little one on one chat."
   "That's not threatening at all," Alexia mumbles.
    "I will work with act one scene two on the stage," Mr. Jensen instructs.
    "That's me!" Alexia whispers. "That's my song."
    "You'll do great," I promise, still paying attention to Mr. Jensen.
     "And I want scene one act four to run lines in the hall." Mr.Jensen continues.
   I look towards Alexia, "Looks like I gotta go..," I wink and head for the hallway where Evan and Gene were already sitting. Gene and Evan ? I was in for a great time...
    "Gene should go down the hall a little," Evan suggested. "He's not on stage right away."
    Nodding, Gene made llamas with his hand and skipped away.
     "Alright," I say, "you have the first line, Evan."
     He nods and starts the scene.
     "Work getting in the way again, Mr. Carton?" He asked in the cockney accent he used for his character, Jerry Cruncher.
     "Oh not at all," I say in a deep drawling tone. "The problem has been solved, as all problems are solved, Jerry."
     "Well don't get me wrong," he replies. "I like three or four bottles a day the same as the next fellow, but how do you get anything done?"
     "Oh this is the only way to get anything done. This is the ableist assistant I know," I inform, as Sydney Carton. "It improves the sight, the smell, and the taste of everything."
    At this point I begin to sing my first song in the show. It's a bit awkward only singing it acapella,  but I do my best.
    "If you ask me the world could use
A shot of whiskey in its glass.
I earned the right to judge,
I've learned a lot
Observing on my ass.
This little bottle keeps mankind at bay,
And far away from me.
And when I'm blind with drink I like the world I see.
I even think the world's the way it ought to be."
    I switch back to my low British drawl. "Well what more could we want out of life, Jerry? For two free Englishman with two full glasses, it's the best of times."
    Hearing his cue, Gene shuffled over, still making llamas with his hands.
    "Confound it, Sydney!" He exclaimed in high pitched British accent. "This is a legal office, not a tavern!"
    "Then it's the worst of times," I mutter.
    "Honestly, Sydney, how do you expect to anything getting drunk with him?" Gene scowls.
    "Keep your wig on, Stryver!" I smirk.
     Evan laughed loudly.
    "Oh, get out of here Cruncher!" Gene yells. 
    "Alright," Evan  shrugged in his cockney voice. "Best drop this fellow off at the medical school across the street. The students will be expecting him."
    Once Evan walked away I looked up at Gene. "You never let me have any friends."
     "Well you could find more distinguished company," he muttered. "The man's a grave robber."
     "Call him over sensitive," I drawl, sitting up, "but he prefers the term 'resurrectionist'."
     "You don't think he had anyone in that bag, do you?" Gene ask with a disgusted expression.
     "I had a look inside," I shrug, "and it looked to me like our last client."
     "Have you found anything out about this witness against Darney? This Barsad fellow?" Gene questions.
     "Not a thing," I answer.
     "But we have to get the Frenchman acquitted!" He exclaims. "The lovely Miss Manette wants me to save him."
    I raise my eyebrow. "You'll have no chance of getting with that little doll once you save her Handsome Frenchman."
    A wide smirk spread across Gene's face. "Well... the other night...."
     I frown, confused. "That's not your line, Gene..."
     "Improve, Sydney," he laughs. "Just go with the flow."
     I had never been in a play before, so I assume this is something that happens often. "Okay then... so you and Miss Manette?"
     "Yes," Gene purred. "I quite enjoyed playing with that little doll."
      I break character again. "I really think we should stick to the script. Jensen told us to run lines. Our lines."
      "Fine," Gene grumbled. "I was just offering an interesting tidbit of information."
       I repeat the last correct line, trying to ignore Gene's 'interesting tidbit of information'. "You'll have no chance getting with that little doll if you save her handsome Frenchman."
      "Do you honestly think she'd choose a poor French tutor over an advancing attorney like myself," Gene says, thankfully using his correct line. "She's just helping him out of pity. She's one of those people who does things for others out of the goodness of their heart. Not expecting anything in return. What to you call people like that, Sydney?"
      "Imaginary."
      "Well, they're lucky to have gotten into the country alive," he mutters. "Did you hear? The Dover Coach got hung up again. These are dangerous times we live in, Sydney."
      "Yes," I agree, standing up and walking a few paces away. "It's not even safe to go around the corner and throw up anymore."
      "Honestly, Sydney," Gene sniffs. "You're a mess."
      "Thank you," I drawl, walking a bit farther.
      "Now where are you going?" He huffs.
     I pause and look back at him. "I'm going to do research for our case in a more jovial atmosphere. Jerry Cruncher happens to know of several bars at which Mr. Barsad likes to drink."
     "Well how convent for you," Gene grumbles, crossing his arms.
     "Yes," I smirk. "And if we're lucky he won't be at the first five or six we try!"
      "And scene!" Evan calls.
      "That went okay," I mumble. "I think...?"
       Gene crosses his arms and I noticed that his hands are still llamas. "Laurance could have stayed in character though."
      "You broke character?" Evan asks.
      "Only because The Cricket didn't stick to the script," I protest. Gene had earned the nickname 'The Cricket' when he'd decided to breed crickets in his room freshman year.   And with a last name like Crickey he was asking for it.
        "I told you," Gene shrugs. "Just sharing interesting information."
       "Whatever," Evan grunts. "Let's go see what's going on on stage."
       "It's act one scene two," I inform. "Never Be Alone."
      Gene smirks. "Yes, let's go see Alexia's scene."
       I bite my lip and follow Gene  and Evan into the auditorium.