write out a list, I’ll get the groceries next time we need them,” Maggie volunteered.
But Matt shook his head. “No, that’s okay. I like to do it.”
She took her mug of tea and headed for the door. “Aliens have definitely invaded your body.”
* * *
The Yankee Potato Chip factory was a huge brick building on the other side of town, surrounded by a parking area that was almost entirely filled with the employees’ cars.
Maggie flipped through her file as Matt pulled up in front of a parking spot marked President near the main door.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” he said.
“Of course you can.” She glanced up from the papers. “You own this company. You’re perfectly within your rights to inspect—”
“No, I mean, I don’t know if I can park here.”
Maggie looked at the parking spot, then at Matt.
“I mean, that word president,” he said. “It implies a certain dignity, a certain knowledge. Maybe I should have them paint over it with Ignorant Son.”
Maggie laughed. “I can think of better ways to use the money.”
“So can I.”
Inside the plant, the manager gave them a complete tour, explaining as they went what he saw as the strengths and weaknesses of the operation. Matt grasped each issue quickly, asking probing and intelligent questions. He stopped frequently as they walked, speaking to the employees, listening intently as they talked. By the time they were through, five hours later, Maggie was exhausted.
And Matt was silent in the car on the way home. It wasn’t until an hour later that he turned from staring out the office window to say, “Have you come across blueprints and specs for the construction of the plant?”
“I just saw them.” Maggie dug through the piles of papers and files, and found the thick three-ringed binder. She hefted the blueprints onto the table. “What do we need these for?”
“Hmm,” Matt said. He punched the speaker phone and dialed. “Hey, Steve, it’s Matthew Stone.”
Steve? As in Stevie? As in her brother? She hadn’t thought Matt was serious about…
“Yo, Matthew Stone.” It was indeed Stevie. “’Sup, my man?”
“How are you at Internet research?”
“I think I once surfed around looking for historical information on the Ramones,” Stevie said. “Why?”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “He got 1520 on his SATs.”
“Hush there, Mags,” Stevie said. “If you say that too loudly, you’ll ruin my rep. Chicks don’t dig the brainiacs.”
“You want to bet?” Maggie countered.
“Steve, you want to earn twenty bucks an hour?” Matt asked.
“Tell me who to kill,” her brother said. “I’ll ask no questions.”
“Consider yourself hired,” Matt said.
“When do I start?”
“Now. I need you to get me all the information you can find about… got a pencil?”
“No,” Stevie said, “but for twenty bucks an hour, I’ll open a vein and write with my own blood.”
“Get a pencil,” Matt said. He looked up at Maggie and smiled. “I think I can improve this company.”
“Okay, boys and girls.” Dan Fowler raised his voice and the actors immediately fell silent. “Break’s over. We’ve got mucho work to do tonight, so don’t turn off your brains yet. Let’s walk through the blocking for the opening number. Places on stage!”
The cast scrambled for their spots.
Maggie moved center stage. So far Dan’s storm-trooper attitude was working. He was among the most efficient directors she’d ever worked with.
“Okay,” Dan called. “Lucy is center. Spot comes up on her. The stage is dark and misty. Creepy crawly things start moving behind her….”
As he spoke, the cast walked through their on-stage movements.
“Lucy says, Stop, and the creepy things scramble away. Lights come up. Out from the wings come my men in top hats and tails. They pick her up and carry her around….”
Maggie looked nervously at the eight men who would be hoisting her onto their shoulders in this part of the opening number. They didn’t lift her now, since it was only a walkthrough, but they were going to spend a great deal of time rehearsing this particular move, to make it look effortless.
“On comes the full chorus, including all four secondary leads. We talk, talk, talk, sing, sing, sing. The stage is packed but the crowd parts as Cody enters upstage center.”
This was as far as they’d got before the break.
“Okay, Cody,” Dan ordered Matt. “You come directly downstage to Lucy. You sing your bit of the song and then you talk. Lucy, don’t back away, I want you directly center stage for the kiss that’s coming.”
Maggie nodded, glancing up at Matt, who was making notes on his script.
“This kiss has to be very 1940s Hollywood,” Dan continued. “Very big screen passionate. The music underneath swells, so you’ve got to time it just right. I think you’ve got eight bars of music to fill. Rhonda, dear, play it for them, would you?”
The accompanist played as Maggie and Matt listened. God, eight bars was an awfully long time.
“Try it with the music,” Dan ordered. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Matt tossed down his script and positioned himself next to Maggie. “Your last line is what? So go away,” he remembered. “You should turn your back to me, as if you’re going to walk away, stage left. I’m going to grab you by the arm and swing you back around toward me, okay?”
Maggie nodded, suddenly frightfully nervous.
“Give us about four measures before the kiss,” Matt called to Rhonda, who began to play.
Maggie listened for the musical cue, then turned away from Matt. He pulled her hard toward him, and she slammed into his chest. As Matt’s lips met hers, she couldn’t keep from giggling.
“Wrong!” Dan’s nasal voice interrupted. “Stanton, you’re as stiff as a board. Get into character! Think about your motivation! This is one of Lucy’s fantasies, and she’s as hot as hell for Cody, even though she won’t admit it. Come on, people, what happened to that chemistry I saw at your audition? I want steam! I want pheromones! Try it again.”
Once again the music started.
