I Fought The Law
Adam was hard at work, doing sirens in his dressing room, when a disembodied voice interrupted him through the vent on the wall.
"Adam, you're amazing!" Alisan called from her own dressing room. She was getting into character as Miriam, while Adam was preparing to be Joshua.
"Thanks, babe!" he called back, and continued warming up.
--
They found each other in the hall, and walked together toward the stage. It wasn't show time yet, thank God. Because there was no way they were ready. Just last night, when the trap door opened in the stage, Adam had nearly fallen in.
Alisan had turned her ankle doing all the dancing, but she was fierce enough not to let it bother her.
"What's with that scrap on your foot?" Adam asked, noticing the brown fabric that matched her dress, wound around her right foot.
She elbowed him, laughing, "Shut up! It's not a scrap, okay? It's a bandage...an incognito bandage, so don't talk about it, or the director's gonna freak."
He cocked his head. "It needs glitter."
"Adam, for God's sake! We're Hebrew slaves!" She knew the director would crap a cat if he saw them with glitter on their rags.
His eyes lit up, as he adjusted a dread from his wig. "Rhinestones!" he exclaimed, undeterred.
"When are you gonna let me go shopping in your closet?" she asked, as he put an arm around her.
"Places!" their director barked. "We're running Adam's solo. ...Try to get down the ladder in one piece, will you?"
So he wouldn't be seen, Adam scowled in the other direction. He'd tripped one lousy time, after the ladder was first introduced and he would never live it down. Instead of letting it get to him, he put all his frustration into the performance.
"Cut! Adam! A word?"
He walked to the side of the stage where the director was standing, and waited. He tried not to be annoyed that he'd been cut off in the middle of what he was doing.
"I thought we had this conversation already," the director whispered. "Tone down the gay stuff. Got it?"
Adam clenched his jaw. "Any notes on the song or my acting?" he asked, trying to be patient.
The director shook his head. "Your performance is fine."
"Fine. You do your job. Let me do mine."
For the rest of rehearsal, Adam was aware of the director's stare, and tried to ignore it. It pissed him off. He had one of the strongest voices in the cast. And he wasn't bragging, his coworkers told him often. So why the hell was he being pulled aside for reasons that had nothing to do with his skill as an actor?
Before he had a chance to get back to his own dressing room and seethe, Alisan grabbed his hand and pulled him to her own.
"Come, come, come into my room!" She pulled him by the hand, got them both inside and closed the door.
"What?" he asked moodily. He and Ali had been friends for long enough that she'd seen his bitchy side come out plenty. And she knew all about the talks he got from production and direction. It sucked.
"Glue some rhinestones on my scrap! We're fighting this damn law that says the director can advise us outside our performance." She dumped rhinestones and glitter all over her dressing table, and found the glue. "Screw his vendetta against the fabulous!" Alisan crowed.
"Damn right," Adam agreed. "Now get over here, so I can find the perfect place for our decorations. We have to match."
It didn't take long. The next rehearsal, Adam had a matching scrap of fabric around his ankle, and a turquoise rhinestone Ali chose.
The next day, when Alisan sang her big song - with its most common line being "we are free" Adam felt a little liberated.
And as he saw the sparkle at the back of Alisan's heel, he felt wholly understood.