Chase awoke to Lady Gaga’s staticy, baseless voice.
His cellphone?
Pauline’s ring!
He kicked off the comforter, leaned over Janie’s sleeping body and grabbed his phone from the nightstand.
She knows I’m here! Oh crap, I’m so deep! Am I late? It’s only six!
“Hello?” he said.
Janie squirmed beneath him. “Mmm?” she said and he covered her mouth.
Pauline spoke with intentional poise. “Big problem, little man.”
Oh crap. Oh crap!
“...and you’re my sounding board.”
Phew! Chase cleared his throat. “What is it?”
Janie’s eyes opened and Chase released his grip. She lifted her head and kissed him quietly.
“Chicago called. Looks like ol’ Daisy knocked over a lantern in our venue for Nationals.”
“Huh?”
“Stew Jennings called me an hour ago... you remember Stew?”
“I remember Stew.”
“Apparently a janitor rubbed out his cigarette butt in a prop tree in the storeroom. Between the turpentine, cleaning supplies, wooden sets, and faulty sprinkler head, it didn’t take much to blow up the whole damn room.”
“Can we still dance?”
“Fire took out two dressing rooms and half of the left wing. The theater smells like smoke. He says it should be fixed in time, but can’t give us a guarantee. I say there’s no way to fix a mess like that in twenty-three days.”
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I’m thinking we have a thousand dancers and no venue.”
Chase knew what they were both thinking, but he wondered if it was wise to push his mother in that direction.
He looked at the crusted sleep in the wells of Janie’s eyes. He thought of her new obsession with fixing her father. He thought of Mr. Whitaker’s affair...
Everything stemmed from the depression of that lifeless stage.
“Ma?” he said.
“Got an idea?”
Under the covers, under her shirt, Chase brushed his fingertips over Janie’s skin. “What about Mr. Carmel’s theater?”
* * *
“No lights?”
“We keep the fuse off in the chorus room. I can turn it on if you--”
“Don’t worry yourself, Will. Flashlight’s fine. This room... it could have been beautiful.”
“It’s a shame.”
“Looks like you’ve been working. Cork boards and a typewriter?”
“I like to plunk around during my down time.”
“The rape article in the your Gazette reported vandalism in the basement. Looks clean to me.”
“Nothin’ I couldn’t fix with a little hard scrubbing at four AM.”
“I imagine you heard about the fire at my venue for our National Championship show.”
“I felt the tension in your crew when I arrived. Then your cameraman gave me the official news. I’m sorry.”
YOU ARE READING
The Brandywine Prophet
General FictionSuburban life has turned William Carmel from a drug-fueled creative prodigy to a gentle husband and father. When the voice of God commands him to construct a million-dollar amphitheater on the hill behind his home, the budding prophet obeys and unle...
