14

Last edited 02 Dec 2001 02:45 PM

ToC
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"On three, two, one, hit-it!"

The pianist started the number, the choreographer took a step back, and the director looked bored.

On stage, two dozen men and women launched into the specified dance number, stomping, kicking, clapping, twirling, and otherwise gyrating around the stage, all desperate to get this gig.

Offstage, several more dozen more dancers waited in the wings, watching, stretching, or praying, whatever they did before a try-out.

"And six, and seven, and eight, and one, and two --" The choreographer, an older woman, watched the proceedings with a practiced eye. She was still slender and limber, but beyond the age when anyone would actually cast her in anything. She was dressed in light blue leotards and baggy cotton pants, and her greying brown hair was drawn back in a tight ponytail. Her name was Jessica Jamesson, and with any luck, this off-Broadway production of Double Diamonds would get her back onto Broadway again.

If she'd had her way, of course, she would have done a series of try-outs, winnowing the field, until she had the best of the best available.

The producer, Henry Gaylord, of course, had different plans. The dancing part of this little gig was, to him, much less important than the other stage action -- it was just part of one scene, after all. He ran his fingers through thinning black hair, and tried to get comfortable in the too-narrow theater seats. Jamesson was pushing for a couple of other dance numbers to be put into the show. He shook his head. The audiences didn't want dance any more. A Chorus Line and Cats were old hat. Jamesson was nuts. But she was sleeping with his brother, so he couldn't just blow her off.

But all this long try-out was turning into a pain in his butt, not to mention his hips. So his message to Jamesson was short and sweet. Find the dancers -- five guys, five girls. Four on-stage, one understudy. No "winnowing down." No "auditioning in depth." Just find them.

Four guys had been chosen already. And two girls. She was going to drag this out. He just knew it. He sniffed. The guys, of course, were, at least three of them, "guys" only in the equipment sense. Made no difference to him, of course. As long as they showed up at rehearsals and didn't knock down the scenery, he didn't care who was schtupping who. You don't work in New York theater for long worrying about things like that, unless you were the one being schtupped. Or the one doing the schtupping.

"All right, that's fine," Jamesson said. This was stupid. She was choosing good talent, but she'd have all the slots filled before she'd even seen all the dancers. She hated that, not just because it meant she was going to be possibly missing out on talent, but because it was so unfair to the ones who didn't even get on stage to try out. She remembered how much she hated it when she was the one on the other side of the spotlights.

"You. You. And you." The last male dancer they needed. And two more of the females. "Thank all the rest of you for coming. Those off-stage, all the guys' roles are taken, thank you for coming.

One of the men on stage was coming over to her. Slender, like they all were, mocha complexion, close-cropped hair, he was wearing a green tank-top, black leotard bottoms, and black leg warmers. "Ms. Jamesson," he said, earnestly and quietly. She cringed inwardly, knowing what was coming. "I've been practicing for this for weeks. I'm sure I --"

She cut him off before he could go any further. "You were good. Maybe even better than one of the ones already chosen. But we only needed five, and Tony was better than you." She smiled. "If you were a girl, maybe."

"I can do drag," he said, deadpan.

She laughed. Was she ever that dedicated? Absolutely. "Get out of here," she told him, but with humor. "Leave your name. If something comes up, I'll give you a call."

He flashed her a quick smile in return, and headed off back-stage.

The next batch was a wash-out. None of the girls had what Jessica was looking for. And she didn't mind dragging it out a little, teach that Gaylord to appreciate quality.

He gave a big, heavy, audible sigh. "Can't we find one more girl?" he asked, grouchily.

"I'll find one this next group, I'm sure, Henry."

He gave another sigh.

The next group of a dozen came out, lined up, got the beat, and went into the routine.

There. That one. She's good. And strong, too. Takes those jumps well. Jessica cut off the pianist. "That's enough, Don. Thanks, girls. You, in the green. The rest of you, thanks again."

The woman the green leotard and black leg warmers bounded over. "Thank you, Ms. Jamesson. Thank you very much."

Jessica blinked. There was something about her that seemed -- "You!" Then she shook her head. "I'm sorry, you just reminded me of --"

"-- My brother. He was trying out here earlier."

Jessica tried not to stare. The resemblance was uncanny. Same mocha skin. Hair shortish and pulled back. Eyes the same green. Even the way she spoke. Even, now that she thought of it, the way they moved on stage. "I told him he'd have gotten in if he were a woman. He suggested he could do it in drag."

The woman dancer laughed, lightly. "That sounds like my brother." She smiled. "I'm sure he'll be jealous that I got the gig."

Jessica shook her head, then smiled back. "And well he should be." She paused, considering. "You know, it would be interesting to see the two of you dance together. Heck, you could probably build a show around it."

The woman laughed. "It would never work. We don't do well on stage together. You only get one or the other of us."

"Oh, well." Jessica held out her hand. "I'm glad I got you, then."

The other took her hand in a firm handshake. "Barbara Abernathy. Thanks for picking me."

"You'll regret it once you get through a few rehearsals with me, I promise."

Barbara smiled. "I don't know -- I've had a tough coach."

"Are we through here?" Henry's whining voice cut into the conversation. "'Cause if we are, I got places to be."

Barbara and Jessica looked at each other, and laughed. This might be the beginning of a beutiful friendship, even if it were only based on their mutual distaste for Henry Gaylord.

* * *