and hopped up and down, in a cute way. “Ruth Glass? You mean, the Ruth Glass? Of Shepherd’s Pie?”
“Uh huh,” I said. “She lives around here. Taking a break from touring.”
“Oh my God,” Amber breathed. “Like, oh, my God.” She was in full Valley-girl mode, but it was still cute. I began to find her annoying. “Oh, God. I hope I can do it. I’m so nervous,” Amber said and rushed away to greet someone else who was just arriving.
“She’s a bit eager, isn’t she?” Rico said.
“Positively puppyish,” I said. “I hope she survives. Touring kids’ theatre is the worst kind of trial by ordeal. If you haven’t got the chops for it, you sink real quick.”
“You’ve done it?”
“In spades. I was a touring stage-manager and performer with a company out east for years. Even kept my Equity standing, although I haven’t been on stage for a long time. Touring is murder, Rico. There’s no way I’d ever do it again.”
“Never say never,” Rico said, shaking a manicured finger in my face. “Anyway, good thing you don’t have to tour with that one. She looks like she may be a sinker. Mind if I mingle? I’ve got to see if the bartender recognizes me.” He gave me a pert wave and pushed into the crowd.
“What did Amber just say to you?” said a voice in my ear. I turned to find Jason McMaster, the stage manager, gazing intensely at Amber’s retreating form. He was dressed in stage-crew black, the uniform of stage managers everywhere, and carried an arm-load of audio cable. Black was not his colour. I swallowed my preferred response, which would have been to raise an eyebrow and say in a chilly voice: “You are her keeper, yes?”
“Excuse me?” I said, instead.
“What did she say to you?” he repeated.
“She introduced herself,” I said. “Does she need your permission for that?” Jason and I had enjoyed a couple of run-ins already and weren’t destined to become bosom buddies.
He shook himself like a wet whippet and glared at me. “Of course not. It’s just that she seems to be avoiding me, and I can’t figure out why.”
“I think she just wants to meet everyone,” I said, carefully. I could at least make an effort to be friendly, I figured. “You know her, I take it?” I had known Jason for less than a week. He came up in advance of the cast, as per his Equity contract, to do the stage-manager’s organizational thing. He was originally from Kuskawa and a graduate of the Laingford High drama club. I’d heard that he’d been through the theatre tech program at Kingsway Theatre School in Toronto, and he took his job seriously.
He’d never mentioned a connection with any of the cast-members.
“Amber’s my fiancée,” he said.
Two
MOTHER: You’ll meet with strangers on the path, take care / Be wary, but polite, and comb your hair.
-The Glass Flute, Scene ii
Jason’s eyes started flickering around the room. He’d lost sight of Amber, and he was panicking.
“Have you been engaged for long?” I said.
Jason looked at his watch. “Three and a half hours,” he said, then grinned. “And six minutes.” The smile perked up his face, lending it a kind of basset-hound sweetness. I’d never seen him smile before. He usually looked as if a timber wolf had just bitten his butt. The smile was the first warm moment we had shared.
I grinned back. “Congratulations,” I said. “You work fast.”
His face immediately soured. “We’ve been going out for three years,” he said. “Both of us getting this contract was a fluke, and it speeded things up, that’s all.”
“I was kidding,” I said, backtracking. Golly. Touchy. “Well, congratulations, Jason. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”
“I’m working,” Jason said. “Setting up the rehearsal space for tomorrow.”
“Oh, relax. Take a minute to celebrate. You don’t get engaged every day. One drink isn’t going to hurt.” He thought about it, shrugged and followed me over to the bar.
Sam Ruttles, the theatre accountant, was in charge of the drinks. Short and bald, with a horrible taste for practical jokes, Sam was known as the Don Juan of Sikwan. Women were drawn to him like flies to a Vapona strip, for reasons which they thankfully kept to themselves. He was surrounded by his usual harem, which included Rico, who gave me the thumbs-up sign. That meant that Sam hadn’t recognized him, I supposed.
“Scotch on the rocks, please, Sam. And something for my friend Jason, here, who has just gotten engaged.”
“What would you want to get engaged for, Jase?” Sam said, grabbing a bottle of generic Liquor Control Board of Ontario mystery scotch. “Marriage takes all the fun out of it.” He handed me my drink—a quarter inch of pale yellow liquid with too much ice. Jason asked for a beer, which was wise, because Sam couldn’t be stingy with that.
“We’re engaged because we’re in love,” Jason said, simply. All Sam’s ladies said “Awww,” including Rico.
“Love’ll get you through the first month, tops,” Sam said. “I should know. Been married six times.”
“He’s the only guy I know who owns his own tux,” I said. We all looked at Sam. He was wearing it.
“What are you dressed as, Sam? The robber bridegroom?”
“No, Polly,” Sam said, “just a wicked bachelor.” He made a lunge at Rico, who swooped away, shrieking. I chuckled. Sam would just poo when he found out.
Jason took his beer and audio cables and melted away. I winked at Rico and moved off into the crowd. Listening to Jason talking about Amber had reminded me that I was very single, with no prospects on the horizon.
My last affair, back in the fall, had ended miserably. I had lived in the District of Kuskawa for almost four years, and all I had to show for it in the relationship department was a failed flirtation with one of Kuskawa’s finest, an Ontario Provincial Police officer called Mark Becker. We had been overcome by a roaring chemical attraction, which turned into one admittedly wonderful date, which turned into chaos after I offered him a post-coital joint. We hadn’t spoken much since, other than to exchange polite greetings in town.
One night of passion in the last forty-eight months. I think I had the right to be a little depressed.
“Why the long face?” It was Tobin Boone, the technical director, with whom I’d been working for the past four weeks in the shop downstairs. Nice guy. Very married.
“Oh, you know, Tobin. The kissy-face thing. Singlehood. Jason just got engaged.”
“Oh yeah, I’d heard that. Guy plays close to the chest, eh?” Tobin said. “But you, Polly? You don’t strike me as the marrying type.” He flashed his pearly-whites at me. Tobin was dressed up as a black-face minstrel, white gloves and all. He’s black to begin
