Exit Stage Left

By Chris James

Chapter Thirteen

Bob Gillette was a skinny guy, his hair spiked in the latest fashion, one that might fit a young man half his age. He was sitting behind the desk Tony used to occupy when Dennis knocked on the open door. Arthur Pierce was sitting on the couch across the room.

"Yeah... come in," Gillette said.

"Hello, Dennis," Pierce said. "Bob, this is Dennis King the crew chief."

"Hi," Gillette said. "Have a seat, where is this union guy?"

"He'll be here," Pierce said. "Dennis was instrumental in rebuilding the dressing rooms last summer, something we should have done a long time ago. Bob has some other decorating ideas to spruce up the place."

Dennis looked at the man, wondering if he was going to share the ideas. Gillette smiled and then seemed to realize he was supposed to say something.

"Yeah... the ideas. We need some new colors in the lobby; the green and gold have to go. That might have been good years ago. Some paint here and there ought to solve that. I'm going to look at the budget very hard this year, see if we can save up some money to have the seats in the house re-covered... and some new carpeting, I hate that brown stuff."

Dennis smiled. None of that would affect him, it didn't matter what Gillette spent if Pierce was paying the bills.

"How much of a crew can you muster?" Gillette asked.

"Last year we had six for the larger shows. I was waiting to see the schedule before lining up people," Dennis said.

"I'd like to have three or four in here by tomorrow to begin the painting," Gillette said.

"Oh... OK, I'll start calling around. What are we painting?"

"Bathrooms first, then the lobby. I have some color swatches here; do we have an account at the paint store?"

"Mike would know that, or Brian," Dennis said.

Pierce shook his head. "Brian won't be back this year; I've got a contractor coming in."

Dennis nodded and looked at his watch. "Let me go make those calls."

He went into the outer office and sat behind the secretary's desk. If he could get some people in after school during the rest of the week they might get the bathrooms done, the lobby was a much larger chore. He could tell Pierce was allowing Gillette some room to develop his own image of the theatre, but it remained to be seen what that meant.

John and Gina were anxious to return, they would drive over after school tomorrow. Matt was out this summer, there were other names left on Kenny's list, but instead Dennis called Brandon. It seemed only logical to introduce more Cabot students into the mix. He knew them and they could be trusted to show up on time. By the time the union crew arrived he had Brandon hooked up as well.

Dennis was on the phone and nodded as Mike and Pat walked in, Mike smiled back and then walked in to see Gillette. Dennis knew better than to go back in there because it didn't concern him. Besides, Pat had shut the door. They would be at it awhile so he would wait it out. He looked across the room at the mailboxes, and there was something in his.

Each department had a pigeon hole and there were several sheets of paper in the one for the crew. Dennis pulled them out and walked back into the lobby. The first page was the summer schedule of events. It was unusual in that nothing started until late May, there was no comedy tour in the lineup this summer.

The first three shows were aging Las Vegas crooners, a few pop singers and some jazz band Dennis never heard of before Paradise on Plastic. That would take care of May into June, the lineup after that didn't look much better. Some musical called A Little Night Music which sounded vaguely familiar followed by Jesus Christ Superstar. An unknown and a relic, what the hell was Arthur Pierce doing?

If Spring Grove was going to survive they needed shows that would attract an audience. The theatre sat south of Sacramento, just about where the farm and cattle country began. A country music show would pack the house. By the same criteria, there was an African American audience living around the city that would love to see a musical revival of Dreamgirls or Ain't Misbehavin'.

Pierce worked with booking agents in New York, and if he didn't know what to tell them about Sacramento audiences they certainly didn't know themselves. It just seemed cheap; maybe Pierce was trying to save money. Dennis walked out into the lobby and over to the bathrooms. Maybe he could figure out how much paint they needed.

Brian had always kept the Men's room clean. Dennis had never been in the Women's room. He pushed that door open, feeling a little silly but knowing no one was in there. The Men's room had six urinals and six toilets, the Women's room had an even dozen toilet stalls. It all looked very clean and that brought up the question. Who gave a damn about the colors of the restrooms? Wasn't clean more important?

Gillette seemed to be an odd one, and Dennis wasn't just thinking about the hair. There was something under the surface, something he had to figure out. Painting walls didn't make money; Gillette wanted it done because he could get it done. That made him sound like a control freak.

Re-covering two thousand eight hundred seats seemed irrational. They were gold colored now and maybe after all these years they did look a little threadbare. How the hell would so many seats be covered at one time? Dennis knew they had spares, and those came in three different sizes. A round theatre didn't have everything the same size, the curve wouldn't allow that. Did Gillette understand the equation?

The meeting between Mike and Pierce went on for over an hour. Dennis wasn't stupid enough to believe that Gillette would have any say in the final results. Mike would want the status quo, everything the same. But when he walked back out to the lobby it didn't seem like he was happy at all.

Mike nodded at Dennis as he and Pat made for the door, the only thing he did was hold his hand up to his cheek, call me was the clear signal. Pierce walked out of the office a few seconds later and Dennis stood waiting for orders.

Pierce reached in his pocket, took out his wallet and then counted out a few bills. "Buy the paint with this; if you need more call me... Bob knows the colors he wants."

That was it, and Pierce was gone. Dennis waited a few moments and then walked back in the office.

"Mr. Gillette?" Dennis called.

"Oh yeah... come on in here," Gillette yelled back.

"Mr. Pierce gave me some money for paint, what colors do you want?" Dennis asked.

"Oh... good." Gillette looked through some papers on his desk and pulled out a color chart. Dennis couldn't help but see the union logo on several sheets of paper. Mike had left with no contract for the summer; this was not a good thing.

Gillette looked at the chart and circled two of the colors. "This one is for the walls and stalls in the Women's, that one for the Men's. You figure out how much you need and get it done."

"I'll take care of it," Dennis said. "I have three people coming in tomorrow afternoon."

"Fine, I want this done fast," Gillette said. "We have a lot of things to do before the season starts. OK, see you tomorrow."

Dennis nodded as Gillette turned back to his phone and picked it up. Dennis kept the color chart in his hand as he walked through the lobby and out the front doors. He looked down at the circled colors and shook his head. The color for the Women's restroom was a plum; the Men's room would become a strange electric blue. What the hell?

Dennis couldn't wait to find out what had happened with Mike so he called on his cell phone.

"Hi," Dennis said. "You wanted me to call?"

"Yeah, we're over at the iHop, come on over," Mike said.

It would take Dennis five minutes to get there. "I'll be right there."

Mike and Pat were at a corner table when Dennis arrived. He slid into a chair beside Pat and nodded.

"Hey, kiddo... how have you been?" Pat asked.

"Good, one more year to go before I get that piece of paper," Dennis said.

"Excellent."

Dennis looked back and forth between the two guys, something was up.

"What?" Dennis asked.

"What has Gillette asked you to do?" Mike asked.

"Uh, so far it's painting, lobby and restrooms. He has all these weird design ideas... " But Dennis stopped, Mike was after something else.

"Has he asked you to do any carpentry?"

Dennis shook his head. "Pierce told him I did the dressing rooms, but that's about it."

Mike sighed. "The Paradise show carries a forty by forty foot plastic rink. I think you know a square rig like that won't fit on a round stage. The specs call for us to build the extensions... Gillette seems to think you can do that."

"Me? He never mentioned a thing. That's a stage alteration, it's in your contract," Dennis said.

"See, I told you they didn't tell him," Pat said.

"I'm sorry, Dennis," Mike said. "I should have known you'd say something to me about it if they had told you to build on stage. That fucking Pierce is using his new boy toy manager to break the contract."

"You think they'll ask me to do the construction? I'll refuse," Dennis said.

"It will mean your job, buddy," Pat said.

"What happens when he asks?" Dennis said.

"We pull out and the union pickets the theatre. It will be a big news story in the papers and television for a few days and then nothing. You'll be fired and probably the rest of your crew as well. Gillette will bring in some replacements and try to carry on."

Mike smiled. "Pat and I could make sure the equipment malfunctions but then that gives us a black eye. Whoever they bring in better know their shit or they'll screw it up all by themselves. But as for you... it might be the best thing that could happen."

Dennis laughed. "Shit, I'll be out of a job."

Mike shook his head. "You stand with us on this issue and Mark will take care of you, I promise you that. What the outsiders don't know is that we're having elections in the union next month, I'm up for vice-president. You stand with us and I'll get you a union card."

Dennis felt a shock run through his mind. Damn, it was an opportunity... a really good one. It was all happening so fast, he was still in school.

"I can't work with you guys yet, I still have school," Dennis said. "I still have to go to college."

"None of that will affect anything. We want you to graduate; you ought to go to college. But you'll be able to walk into any union office across the country and apply for work any time you want," Pat said.

"You really think this is going to happen, don't you?" Dennis asked.

Mike and Pat both nodded and Dennis' face lit up. "Well damn, screw Arthur Pierce."

The rest of the week just fed the absurdity that seemed to swirl around Gillette. Dennis' commitment at Cabot waned as the directing scenes filled the studio theatre. He said goodbye to those on the way out the door and made sure the returning students knew he would be back. Alliances had been formed and Dennis' crew would run the school come fall.

The small painting crew took on the restrooms every afternoon. It wasn't difficult just time consuming, and the results... no one thought the colors appropriate. Gillette was in and out, obviously pleased that his vision was being carried out. Only Dennis knew what lay ahead and it didn't seem fair.

Gina and John thought the schedule of shows was absurd, Brandon was just happy to be there. The only one who knew this summer could soon fall apart was Ted. Dennis had to tell someone.

"So no crew, huh?" Ted said.

"I'm keeping you out of this for now. If Gillette fires everyone then at least you can get your usher's job back."

"So what is this Gillette guy all about?" Ted wanted to know.

Dennis shook his head. "I don't know. One day he's quiet and stays out of the way, the next he's off the wall. The union still doesn't have a contract and next week is the opener, I don't know what will happen."

They finished painting the restrooms and performed a detailed cleanup. Gillette breezed through the rooms, gave everything a cursory glance and walked out. It didn't seem the project was important to him at all when last week it had been vital. Gillette's reputation as a screwball was made.

The lobby painting was to be different. The green walls they could handle except for the gold foil paper that had been applied at least ten years before. Gillette just said to rip it down and then paint, but that wasn't possible.

"I tried to peal a corner of the foil paper," Dennis said. "The glue pulls the plaster off as well. The guy at the paint store said... "

"Oh crap, then just forget it. Repaint the green walls for now, we'll fix the plaster later on," Gillette said. "And do we have to keep that blue stage? That color is obnoxious, I think it ought to be a tan color... think sandy beach."

Dennis shrugged. "It's only paint; we can make it any color you want."

"Do the lobby first, and then spend a day or two on the house and stage. I'll be in LA this weekend; you ought to be done by the time I get back. Arthur left an envelope for you out in the mailbox, there ought to be enough money for all the paint."

Gillette had a seat back propped against the wall in his office, one of the spares. He carried it out when he left and was gone before Dennis even opened the envelope. Inside was a note from Pierce and fifteen one hundred dollar bills.

"Dennis, get the damn paint for the lobby that Bob wants. I know you guys have been working hard so split the rest of the money with your crew. I've spoken with Mike and he'll be here on Tuesday afternoon for the technical rehearsal.

"Just so you know we are at odds over some of the provisions in the union contract, but that shouldn't affect you or your people. Denise LaRue will be here Tuesday at four, she's a classy lady and I remember her music fondly from my youth. Get some flowers for the dressing room if you will, let's have a good opening week." And it was signed Arthur.

So it was to be Arthur now, Dennis thought. Paint and flowers couldn't cost more than two or three hundred. He could divide up the rest with the crew and make them happy. The really good news was that Mike would be there; maybe they had settled their differences.

Gillette's choice for the lobby walls was a light purplish color, Gina called it lavender.

"Talk about a contrast with the furniture and the carpeting," She said as they spread drop cloths on the lobby floor. "I hope it covers in one coat, but I doubt it."

John and Gina mounted ladders to hand paint the trim along the ceiling grid, Brandon and Dennis rolled out the major portion of the walls. They had to let it dry for about two or three hours before a second coat, long enough to stand back and decide the color looked out of place.

Dennis shrugged. "Gillette has bad taste; I guess we should just be glad he doesn't get to pick the shows."

He took them up into the control booth to turn up the house lights and of course Brandon became fascinated with the light board.

"Jeez, this is all plug and run stuff, no computer assist whatsoever."

"You've been spoiled at Cabot; this board is about twenty years old. Mike said it was all manual dimmers before that, piano boards he called them," Dennis said.

"I've seen pictures of those things, museum pieces," Brandon laughed.

Gina smiled. "Here the only museum pieces are on stage performing. That's what this summer is going to be like."

"Yeah, what a strange bunch of shows," John said.

"OK, so who wants to paint the stage?" Dennis asked.

They stood on the turntable and Dennis rolled out the first stripe of sandy beige. This was a mistake; Gillette had no sense of what this would do to the lighting. Gina didn't even want to help with this and she sat with Brandon in the last row of seats as John and Dennis completed the job.

"You know it takes away the audience's focus, the whole place is too bland now," Gina yelled out.

"Can we turn on the stage lights and get a look at it?" Brandon asked.

"Probably not supposed to... but I want to know what it looks like too," Dennis said.

He'd seen Mike set up before a show. They had to engage two large disconnect switches, power on a whole row of breakers and turn on the board. Dennis brought the house lights down and pushed up on the master control. The lighting setup was left over from the Michelle Kennedy show, lots of color and spots.

Of course now the beige colored stage reflected the lights differently, everything looked harsh.

"Oh that sucks," Gina said. "Mike is not going to like it."

Dennis shook his head. "Somehow I think that's what Gillette wants. Everything he's doing seems counter-productive to the image here."

Monday was dark and so Dennis was waiting in the driveway when Ted got home from school. This was finals week for the regular public schools and Dennis was concerned that Ted would need the opportunity to study for his exams, but at least he could get a kiss before the boy kicked him out.

"Kick you out? Oh hell no," Ted laughed. "I wrote my English final last week, all I have are my algebra and history exams... piece of cake."

"But you have to study, I'll help if you want," Dennis said.

Ted nodded. "Algebra is easy, but you can ask me some of the history questions at the end of each chapter."

"What kind of test, essay questions?"

"No, then the teacher would actually have to read all that stuff, it'll be multiple choice," Ted said.

They sat beside the pool under the awning and Dennis looked at the questions listed at the back of the book. He always thought of American history as a soap opera, nothing had changed in two hundred years. Lots of yelling and posturing, very little positive action.

"In what battle did Theodore Roosevelt make a name for himself?" Dennis asked.

"Roosevelt, twenty-sixth President, Republican. Appointed Assistant Secretary of the Navy in 1897, resigned the following year and joined the Army. Led the charge up San Juan Hill in Cuba, 1898, Spanish and American War."

Dennis smiled. "Did you memorize the book?"

"No, those are all pertinent facts... ask me another one."

"Um, ok... here's a winner. If Andrew Johnson was the vice-president during Abraham Lincoln's second term, who was the vice president during the first term?"

"Hmm, I love the tough ones. Hannibal Hamlin, former Governor of Maine," Ted said.

Dennis laughed. "Jeez, you ought to be teaching this class."

"Unlike most of my classmates I don't sleep in class. I don't know how Mr. Reed puts up with it."

"He's probably satisfied teaching students like you," Dennis said.

"I hope... next question?"

Dennis had dinner with the Cavanaugh's and went home around ten. Ted would be out of school by the end of the week and then their quality time would resume. The Grove opened the following night with Dennis in charge of himself and Gina, the only two needed for the week.

Brandon had asked if he could come in and watch and Dennis had agreed. The boy's relationship with Jimmy had petered out over the semester; they were both flying solo once again. But Brandon would learn something this summer if Dennis could work him enough. It remained to be seen what any of them could accomplish under Gillette.

Dennis walked through the backstage door at The Grove on Tuesday, it was early, almost four hours before the talent was due to arrive. The house was dark except for the exit signs above the outside doors. He walked around the circle and out into the lobby.

"Dennis, there you are," Gillette called out. "Come look at this."

All the photos from past seasons were down off the wall and piled up on one of the couches, but Gillette went back through the office door and Dennis followed. Propped up on the secretary's desk was the seat back covered in blue material.

"What do you think?" Gillette asked.

Dennis walked over and ran a hand down the fabric. "It's blue denim like they use in jeans."

"Yes, I want to do the whole house in the fabric, and the lobby too," Gillette said.

"You mean on the walls or just the furniture?" Dennis asked.

"Hmm, didn't think of the walls... it would cover that gold foil nicely. But I'm looking at carpet first; we have to get rid of that brown crud Tony put in. You guys ready for Miss LaRue? The stage looks fine, what I can see of it in the dark. I don't even know how to turn on the house lights."

Gillette was rambling and his eyes were dilated. What the hell? Dennis knew the man was on something.

"Let me show you where the house light control is downstairs," Dennis said.

The override switch for the house lights relay was in the usher's closet. Dennis showed Gillette how to turn the key switch and press the relay button. The house lights immediately popped on full with a clunk. Gillette looked down at the stage and smiled.

"Yes, that looks much nicer than that old blue. Just imagine the seats all covered in denim, maybe a dark beige carpet, and then we could repaint the walls something else."

"The walls aren't painted, that's the original color of the sound absorbent material, and it keeps the theatre from sounding like an echo chamber. I don't think it's supposed to be painted," Dennis said.

"I'll have to ask, the color is horrible. Well fine, we have enough to do this week... why are you here so early?"

"I wanted to see if this new cleaning service was on site and check out the star's dressing room. Arthur gave me money for flowers so I was planning to go out and get something."

"Yeah, the cleaning guy called this morning, they'll have a crew on at ten tonight for after the show. This all looks fine; you go do your thing. I have some calls to make." And Gillette was off and running.

It was like he was on pep pills, amphetamines... something. Dennis had seen a few Cabot students use the drugs, if caught they would be kicked out or arrested. Theatre was dangerous enough without altering your mind, it was just plain stupid.

The star dressing room looked good, LaRue would be happy. She had two back up singers, they would go to the co-star rooms, and the musicians could have the rest. Dennis drove over to the shopping center to get the flowers. Casewell Florist was where he bought flowers for his mother.

He looked at the displays and then asked the lady at the counter what he ought to do. He wanted flowers that would last the week and so he told her what they were for. The woman's eyes lit up.

"Denise LaRue? My husband just loves her music," She said.

"I'd be happy to get you some tickets for a performance," Dennis said.

"I'm Mrs. Casewell. You get me tickets and I'll give you fresh flowers every day this week, on the house."

Dennis smiled. "I'm Dennis King, the crew chief. If you have a business card I'll give it to Charlie our box office manager. You just call and ask for him, he'll give you tickets any night you want."

"My husband will be excited, you got yourself a deal."

Dennis drove back to the theatre with a dozen yellow roses in a vase with assorted ferns, a beautiful arrangement that would sit on the coffee table in the dressing room. Kenny had said they could get freebies with tickets, now Dennis knew how it was done. Mike and Pat were there when he got back.

The flowers went in the dressing room and Dennis walked into the house to see the ladder set up on stage. Mike had the stage lights up and was standing there looking.

"What the hell is this... Gillette?" Mike asked, pointing at the floor.

"Yeah... sandy beach, he told me to paint it."

"Throws the color of the lights all off, but he's the boss... for now. I wonder what the talent is going to think?"

Denise LaRue arrived at the theatre just before the four o'clock rehearsal. Her stage requirements were three stools and the same number of microphones. She had a small band, eight musicians who would fit comfortably in the orchestra pit, and she had a manager, her husband.

Jack LaRue was a tall gaunt man, and he was dressed in the shiniest suit Dennis had ever seen. The fabric seemed to glow as the man strode into the theatre to look at the stage. He stood at the top of the aisle and smiled as Dennis approached. Gillette should have been here to make the first contact, but he was out to dinner.

"Jack LaRue," The man said, holding out a hand.

"Dennis King, Mr. LaRue. I'm the crew chief here if you need anything. Have the musicians arrived?"

"They're on the way over... I've heard good things about this place. Looks like a good performance space, Denise will like it."

Just then Denise walked through the door and into the house.

"Baby, this is Dennis," LaRue said.

"Hello there," Denise said. She was a big woman, a body that matched the power of her voice. "Someone left me flowers, that's so sweet," She said.

"That would be from Mr. Pierce, our owner... he's a big fan," Dennis said.

She smiled. "I'll be sure to thank him."

Mike had seen them arrive and made his way over from the control booth. Dennis introduced Jack LaRue and let them walk down to the stage to talk requirements, Denise remained up top.

"My friend Betty Kline was here last summer, she told me this was a nice place to sing," Denise said.

"Yes, ma'am, the acoustics are wonderful," Dennis said. "We had a great time last year."

"That aisle looks so steep, is it safe?"

"Yes it is, but I'll be here to escort you up and down every time."

"Oh good, let's try it," Denise said.

She put her left hand on Dennis' arm and he guided her down the aisle to the onstage ramp. This would be a classy entrance to make every night, so much for invisibility.

"That was easy; you'll do that every night for me?"

"I certainly will," Dennis replied.

Denise walked across the stage and gazed out at the seats. Dennis could hear her start to hum and then she broke into a song just to hear her voice. Yeah, this would be great. He turned and ran back up the aisle, pulling his cell phone out in the process.

"Ted... do me a favor on your way in to work. Stop by my house and bring my black sport coat with you, I have to make an appearance during the show."

They spoke for a few moments and then Dennis saw Mike motioning him down to the stage. He said goodbye and ran back down the aisle. Mike had a grin on his face.

"Mr. LaRue would like to know if we can paint the stage another color, he thinks the beige doesn't work for this show."

Dennis nodded. "We have a nice powder blue that works well with the lighting, will that be all right?"

LaRue nodded. "Yes, that sounds fine. Denise has a white sequined dress. I think that will look so much better."

"I'll be sure to change it right after you rehearse," Dennis said.

"I'll tell Bob," Mike said with an evil leer. He would enjoy doing that.

The musicians arrived as did Brandon, so Dennis put him to work helping carry the cases down to the orchestra pit. Gina would be along and she was supposed to work this show. It was only fair; she had the seniority, even more so than Dennis. Tony had chosen him as the crew chief and she was all right with that, but it made him feel the need to work her whenever he could.

Mike had gone out to the office and walked back into the house with Gillette. Dennis finished his business and walked up to see what the verdict would be.

Gillette was not happy but the talent always got what it wanted, the stage would go back to blue. A half hour to paint, and two and a half for it to dry, that was cutting it close. Dennis had Brandon pull out the rollers and the paint bucket. They would go at it the minute Denise was done with her rehearsal.

At five Mr. LaRue could see them getting ready to paint and pulled Denise off the stage, he would take her out for dinner and return before show time. Dennis and Brandon began to spread paint. Mike came down the aisle and chuckled.

"Place is gonna stink when the house opens, we generally don't paint on the day of a show," He said.

Dennis nodded. "Hey, I just work here... can't we open the doors or something?"

"I'll turn on the overhead fans, that way we'll keep the bugs out," Mike said.

Dennis looked up at the ceiling. The four large fan units were hooked up to heating coils. In winter if the theatre was used they could be turned on for a quick heat of the massive air volume in the house. That way they didn't have to run the regular heat for eight hours to heat the place, the fans could do it in half an hour.

Mike was watching them paint when Dennis realized he ought to introduce Brandon.

"Mike, this is Brandon, he goes to Cabot."

"I kinda figured that, he knows how to paint. Hi, Brandon."

"Hello," Brandon said in return and kept on painting.

They finished the job and Mike walked up to the booth and kicked in the fans. It was like standing under a jet engine, the roar filled the theatre and Dennis could feel the warm air flowing down across the stage. The draft was so strong Dennis could almost see the paint drying; at least it started to look set up.

Mike went around and propped open a few outside doors and by the time the rollers were washed out the paint was dry.

"Damn, we should do this every time," Dennis said. "Look how fast that paint dried."

Mike laughed. "Those fans eat electricity; this will probably cost Gillette a few hundred dollars."

They let the fans run for almost an hour and shut it all down. The smell still lingered, but it was much better now. Dennis took Brandon out for a sandwich.

"So this is Mike, the union guy who runs ARCO?" Brandon said.

"Yeah, he's a wealth of knowledge. Pat is usually here too, I don't know where he was this afternoon. They didn't even do a microphone check and that's unusual."

"That LaRue lady can sure belt out a song; she may not even need a sound system."

Dennis laughed. "This is still a union house; there will always be a man for lights and another for sound."

"Thanks for letting me work," Brandon said.

"I explained about Gina, I have to work her ahead of you. But next week you can be here every night... which reminds me," Dennis said. He took out his wallet and handed Brandon forty dollars.

"What's this?"

"You worked four hours, that's payment," Dennis said. "I can't put your name on the payroll just yet, Gillette would hassle me. Kenny and I decided last year that if the union rules say that a crew call is four hours then we should follow the same rules. Of course they make a zillion dollars more than we do, but we can control the time."

Brandon smiled. "Cool... do you think Mike would let me watch?"

Dennis nodded. "I'll take you up to the booth myself."

Denise and her girls put on quite a show that night, even if there was only a half an audience. Pat had arrived at seven, but Mike had already placed the microphones on stage and tested them. The reason for Pat's late arrival was obvious, his left foot was all bandaged up which made it difficult for him to mount the stairs to the booth.

"I dropped a monitor speaker on my foot when the handle broke, stupid accident," Pat said.

Dennis waited to see if there would be any further explanation but there wasn't. Pat could do his job, but Dennis would be on the hook if a microphone went dead. Fortunately Denise and the girls didn't pace in circles and they were very aware of the cables.

Dennis finally remembered to take the Casewell business card out to Charlie who nodded and stuck it up on the bulletin board in his office.

"Yeah trade as much as you want, Dennis. They can come any night they want, sales are slow."

Charlie Bloom was a nice guy in his mid-sixties. He was the oldest employee in Pierce's company and had been at The Grove longer than anyone. But from the few comments Dennis had overheard the man was also disappointed at the season that lay ahead. Neither of them could do anything about it.

The show spanned several decades of music, and to Dennis' amazement included dialogue. Marge and Tina were Denise's two sidekicks, and the three of them gave a little presentation on the history of music in skit form, it was very clever.

But that voice, Dennis was amazed at the power in that woman's voice. Much of her program was either jazz or Broadway favorites. But on that blue stage in a white sequined gown she looked wonderful. Somehow they had overcome the stupidity of the front office to do something grand.

It was good to stand at the top of the aisle and look across at Ted once again. The ushers still wore the green and gold, Gillette was silent on that point. But once Denise was on stage Dennis could walk around the circle and stand under the booth with Ted until it was time to return.

Jack LaRue had been perfectly willing to let Dennis make the announcements prior to the show, but Dennis deferred to the man, after all his wife was the star. It could only be imagined how hard it was to follow her all across the country and have nothing to do every night except watch the show. LaRue seemed to enjoy introducing the act; Dennis would get his announcing job back next week.

The week ran on and the shows went well even if the audience was small, and by the weekend there was larger attendance. Dennis kept a close eye on Gillette, who seemed to appear out of nowhere from time to time. Fortunately there was no way he could sneak up into the control booth without them knowing.

Mike was less than happy about the state of their contract but said Mark was working on it with Pierce. Brandon seemed to be the only happy camper in the theatre. Mike welcomed him into the booth and was glad to show the boy how it all worked.

By Friday they were talking about the following week and the jazz group led by Benton Little. Popular jazz was a rarity; unknowns would mean that ticket sales would be nonexistent. Mr. Little and his band were on the way up Charlie told them. He got to see all the advance publicity and the ads all said they were young and aspiring musicians.

Dennis finally picked up a copy of the Sacramento Bee and saw a photo of the group, none of them were over the age of twenty... it looked like a band filled with kids. Ted had heard of them since he had begun following the music scene several months before.

"I thought they were hip hop, who says they're a jazz band?" Ted asked.

"Um... the theatre did. I wonder if Pierce is trying to pull something after that Milner mess last summer," Dennis said.

"You think the county would freak out at a hip hop concert?"

"I don't know what they would think. It's not my favorite form of music, but it's got a big following," Dennis said.

Denise gave them a bang up ending to their first week and then in rolled Benton Little. Technically they didn't want much and they brought their own wireless microphone system. Pat was happy; all he had to do was plug them into his system.

By mid-week Mike was showing signs of aggravation. Dennis knew it was more than the show; it had to be Arthur Pierce and the contract. The band was not just a bunch of hip hop; Benton Little had a family background in music. His mother was a gospel singer and his grandfather had played with Duke Ellington. The music they presented was as eclectic as their appearance, and Ted was already writing a story about the boys.

Dennis knew that Ted was covered for the summer even if his job was teetering on the brink of extinction. No matter what Gillette decided, Dennis was not going to cross a union picket line to work at The Grove.

Friday evening Dennis and Ted arrived for work after a nice dinner at the country club. The house was dark and Dennis turned on the lights before crossing the lobby to check his mailbox. Brandon was sitting at the secretary's desk looking glum.

"Hey... what's up?" Dennis asked.

"Dennis, is that you?" Gillette called from his office.

Brandon nodded towards the office door. Dennis walked in to see Arthur and Gillette drinking coffee with a pile of paper on the desk.

"Dennis, sit down a moment," Arthur said.

Dennis sat down and Arthur came right to the point. "We don't have a union contract anymore. I'm not stupid, I'm sure Mike has talked to you about this before. The ice show needs those stage extensions and they look pretty simple. It shouldn't take a union crew eight hours and four thousand dollars to build them, Mike disagrees.

"So when I told him you were going to build the extensions they walked, said it violated the contract. I imagine they'll start picketing the theatre this weekend. So as of now we have no union crew for the show tonight, but I have that covered. I want to know what you think."

Dennis nodded. He'd been thinking about what to say when either Arthur or Gillette brought this up. There was no way he was going to work the show without the union.

"I can't build the extensions, that's a huge responsibility... and a liability for you if I do it wrong. Mike and I have talked, I won't deny that. I have to say no to building the extensions, and we can't run this show without a union crew."

Arthur shook his head. "I'm sorry to hear that, but you're wrong. The margins around here this summer are going to be small; I can't afford to have the union taking a bite out of that anymore."

Gillette had a silly smile on his face and Dennis knew the man enjoyed watching Arthur struggle. Who the fuck was this guy, and why didn't Arthur see what was happening?

"You'll have to leave, Dennis... you're fired," Gillette said.

Dennis nodded. "Your loss." He got up and stood before Arthur. "Thanks for all you've done for me. Maybe some day you'll realize where the real problem lies."

"Get the fuck out," Gillette said.

Dennis laid his key ring in Arthur's hand and ignored Gillette. Then he walked out of the office and closed the door. Brandon was still sitting at the desk; he must have heard every word. But something was going on, he wouldn't look up. And right then Dennis knew what had happened.

"Arthur has you running lights for the theatre now, doesn't he?" Dennis asked.

Brandon slowly nodded. "He called me at home last night. I can do it."

Dennis nodded. "I'm sure you can, but this is a matter of should you do it. Be careful, this is a lot more than you've handled before."

"I'm sorry they fired you."

"I'm not," Dennis said. "I'm on the right side of this argument, you aren't. Bye, Brandon, see ya in the fall."

Dennis stopped at the lobby door and looked back. "Remember when you told me to tell you if you ever fucked up? You just fucked up." And with that Dennis left the office. He would be back, he was sure of that. Only next time he would be carrying a picket sign.

Gillette had done this; he had manipulated the whole thing. Arthur Pierce was a fool and he was risking his entire company in the process. Dennis walked across the lobby and into the theatre, spotting Ted stacking programs by the door.

"I have to leave... I just got fired," Dennis said.

"What? How can they do that... there's a show in two hours?" Ted said.

"Arthur now has Brandon running things," Dennis said.

"Brandon? That little shit... "

Dennis looked back at the doors. "Walk with me around the circle."

Ted put down the programs and followed. "I'm sorry, D."

Dennis had to share his thoughts before he left, it was all so complicated.

"I don't blame Brandon. He thinks it's a great opportunity, but he's wrong. The key to all this is Gillette, he's running Arthur's company into the ground by wasting money that could have been used to hold that union contract together. Hell, by next month I bet they won't be able to afford toilet paper... that's his agenda.

"No, firing me was the best thing that could happen. If the union starts to picket the theatre tomorrow I'll be out there with them, but I need you in here to keep an eye on things."

"What things?" Ted asked.

"Gillette... I don't trust him. In fact I'm going home and make a phone call to see if I can find out a little more about him," Dennis said, and then he smiled. "It will be very interesting to see if Jim knows anything about him, you remember Jim don't you?"

"From Tahoe? Oh hell yeah, he must know everybody."

"I'll soon find out. Call me when you get up in the morning... "

They stood in the darkness on the far side of the circle as Brandon came through the doors from the lobby and walked slowly towards backstage. He didn't even look up and Dennis felt sorry for him. He'd made a big decision without thinking of the consequences.

Working against the union was the wrong thing to do. They had a long memory and someday Brandon might need them, but he'd blown that all to hell. It wouldn't affect the boy's standing at Cabot, but when he left the school to go work... well his options had just been narrowed down dramatically.

Brandon pushed through the backstage door and disappeared. Dennis gave Ted a hug and a kiss and then pushed open the exit door. He took one look back at the small round stage; he might never see it again.

"I love you," Ted said.

"Love you too, have a good night," Dennis said. Then he was gone and the door clunked shut behind him.

"Fuck," Ted said, and then he went back to sorting programs.