‘He did come over and ask for the number of my dentist, which seemed very odd,’ Jackson said.
Olivia rolled her eyes. She wasn’t going to explain it to Jackson, but vampires had to get their teeth filed regularly, and Garrick was always trying to find a dentist who would make him a set of false fangs.
Ivy took a closer look at the brown paper bag in her hand. There was a doodle in black felt tip. ‘And it doesn’t take a secret agent to figure out what that means.’ She held the bag out so the others could look.
Olivia saw a tiny B with devil horns scrawled in black pen on the corner of the bag.
‘The Beast left his calling card,’ said Sophia.
‘Garrick is so dead,’ Ivy said. ‘I don’t know how yet, but I will have my revenge.’
Sophia grinned and tapped her headphones. ‘If you need help, just call.’
‘Alack, there lies more peril in mine eye than twenty swords!’ Ivy declared.
Olivia’s jaw dropped. ‘How come you’re spouting Shakespeare?’
‘I’m the stage manager, which means I know the whole script back to front.’ Ivy turned back to the auditionees. ‘It also means I have less than sixty seconds to get you all out into the auditorium. Move it!’
Ivy had to abandon her socks and shoes, because they were covered in the powder, so she slipped into a pair of bright red clown shoes, with a look on her face that dared anyone to comment.
Everyone, including Olivia and Jackson, scurried to do her bidding. Olivia nearly sprinted through the wings, stage right, and down the side steps to plop into a seat in the third row. Jackson had gone straight through the gap in the main curtain and ended up on the opposite side of the auditorium. There was no way she could talk to him again before the auditions started.
Probably just as well, Olivia thought. She was nervous enough as it was, and having him nearby might completely distract her.
The back doors to the auditorium burst open and in strode Camilla, dressed in a black beret, dark sunglasses and red braces holding up her camouflage trousers. She looked half French director, half army sergeant. She marched down the centre aisle to the edge of the stage. ‘OK, people,’ Camilla said to the crowd. ‘Thank you for coming. Good luck to you all. You have one chance. There will not be callbacks.’
One of the guys behind Olivia muttered, ‘She looks tough.’ Olivia was proud of her friend. Usually Camilla had her nose buried in a science-fiction novel, but today she was taking charge.
‘I am not your average director and this is not your average production of Romeo and Juliet,’ she went on. ‘We only have three weeks to pull it together, so I want passion; I want originality – I want that something special.’ Camilla turned to the stage, settled in the front row, middle seat, took out a clipboard and barked, ‘Who’s first?’
Ivy was stage left and motioned for the first auditionee to come up on stage. It was Charlotte, smiling demurely, and looking every inch a Juliet in her period dress. It had a frilly-sleeved white top under an embroidered blue dress that flared out at the waist. Charlotte flashed Jackson a huge eyelash-fluttering smile.
Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, willing the spirit of Shakespeare to write a happy scene and not the tragedy of Charlotte getting to play Jackson’s Juliet.
Chapter Three
Ivy looked down at her clipboard. The first three auditions were complete and the next one, Toby Decker, wearing a full tuxedo, was taking his place to read a monologue for Mercutio, the second most important male part.
Her eye fell on a name near the bottom of her list: Garrick Stevens.
Her leg twitched and she had to scratch it, even though the irritation from half an hour ago had pretty much faded. She wondered if her legs would ever forget.
She had secured the little brown bag of evidence under the metal clip of her clipboard and was planning to show it to Camilla to get Garrick disqualified.
Unless … Ivy thought, there’s a better way to punish him …
An idea started forming in her mind.
Olivia was in the wings, stage right, waiting for her turn and watching Camilla as she scribbled notes on the current auditionee. Her face was like a halfway line – dead straight. Olivia didn’t have any clue what she was thinking.
‘Next!’ called out Ivy and Olivia knew that meant her.
She stood up, adjusted her light-blue maxi dress and strode up on to the stage. She winked at her sister, who gave a little thumbs up back, and went to stand on her mark.
The stage lights were bright, so she couldn’t see much of the auditorium. But that only helped her imagine the scene: standing on a balcony above an orchard filled with apple trees and sunshine, longing for the person she loved.
‘I’m performing Juliet’s monologue from Act Three, Scene Two,’ she said, peering out into the spotlights. Then she forced her mind to clear and began:
‘Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, towards Phoebus’ lodging …’
Olivia had been determined not to let the old-sounding English intimidate her, and she spoke each line carefully and clearly.
‘… Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night.’
She’d studied the passage carefully to figure out what each line was trying to say and, now, all she had to do was think of Jackson to feel the romance of Shakespeare’s poetry. It felt so natural that she could get lost in the words.
‘Give me my Jackson; and, when he shall die …’
She heard a couple of giggles and at least one snort from the audience.
Oh no! Olivia thought. I just said ‘Jackson’ instead of ‘Romeo’!