Love is Lost | Reloaded

8 - Practice Makes Perfect

Naya

This is the first week of rehearsals and I still can't believe I'm here, doing something that I only dreamed of doing.

I'll be honest, with the large amounts of preparation and pressure that goes into this famous musical, I thought the very first day would have us practicing like it was opening night. Contrary to my beliefs, I've been smooth sailing past these four days with us twenty castmates just getting acquainted with each other and the script. What was even better was that everyone was mostly kind and chill.

Everyone except the director, of course. Huxley Anderson, the blonde man with a head that pops off every waking minute in a fiery rage.

I've heard multiple horror stories about him over the years I've been at Gilded, and they only seem to get worse with every production he heads. He's a judgmental, unfriendly control freak with a terrible temper. I wouldn't be surprised if he secretly gets a kick out of making everyone's life a living hell since he does it so much.

Whenever he snaps at us for something little, half of me wants to throttle him on the spot but the other half is understanding to it. He's the reason why Gilded is as successful as it is. Plays and musicals here only receive huge notoriety with his leadership, so clearly his meticulousness means something.

Speaking of the devil, my head turned in the direction of the doors that were just opened by my beloved director, the pomp aura following him like air. Party's over.

"Why isn't anyone in their places?! Don't we have a show to practice for? I must be the only one who remembers these things!" he began patronizingly. See what we have to work with?

We quickly scrambled to our places like ants in an ant farm, scripts flapping by the wind of our movements. Huxley timed how long it took us and threatened to cut people out if it happens again or exceeds five seconds. Luckily, we stopped at four. Talk about cutthroat.

Rehearsals ended five hours later with strained voices yet familiarized lines. Hux threw all kinds of comments at everyone during it and I could see how drained we all had become hearing them. Here's just a few of the hundreds we've heard:

"Life is full of disappointments and you're one of them!"

"I just know your parents are ashamed of you. I just know it."

"You made me glad I'm gay if you sound like that saying, "Ooh!""

It was going to be a long two months.

I was stuffing my script and water bottle into my duffel bag when I saw someone approach me. I looked up to find one of my castmates with a smile on his face. He had a muscular frame and sported a buzzcut. Then I noticed his mismatched eyes, one green and the other brown, both of which looking back at me. Needless to say, this guy was a looker.

I soon recognized him to be the person playing Jefferson, someone I wouldn't be working with too much in the actual play. Maybe that's why his name isn't ringing any bells, and I feel like this is the first time I have ever seen him during rehearsals.

"He's a lot to handle, isn't he?" he spoke.

"More than a lot," I responded, turning my head to see Huxley pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head disapprovingly at a girl who had a question. I looked back at the guy who started up the conversation. "Don't think I'll get used to it."

He chuckled. "I thought the same, but this is my third production with him and I ended up getting used to it. Sometimes I don't even hear him."

"I wish I were you right about now," I stated, meaning every word.