Black Cat Weekly #79

Chapter 7-1

The Barb Goffman Presents series showcases

the best in modern mystery and crime stories,

The Barb Goffman Presents series showcases

the best in modern mystery and crime stories,

personally selected by one of the most acclaimed

personally selected by one of the most acclaimedshort stories authors and editors in the mystery

short stories authors and editors in the mysteryfield, Barb Goffman, for Black Cat Weekly.

field, Barb Goffman, for .

by“I don’t get it,” Eden said, staring at the IMDb website. “Duff never comes to town to greet a visiting artist, especially not one without any major credits. He only tears himself away from Manhattan on the weekends.”

Justin rolled in his chair across the small office, away from Eden, and dumped a stack of papers into the trash can.

“Maybe he’s feeling charitable,” Justin said. “Or maybe he’s positioning himself for one of those lifetime achievement awards and wants to look like a mentor.”

“A mentor to who? It’s not like this guy’s IMDb credits are the only ones lacking.” Eden glanced his way, her blue eyes wide. “I checked the Broadway database and the Equity database. No listings, no stories, no website. Nothing. He’s a ghost.”

The floor creaked by the door, and they turned to see me filling the doorway and spying on them.

“Y’all really don’t have a lick of common sense between you,” I said.

“Hey, grandma,” Justin said. “Don’t hate on us kids.”

I smiled and pushed Justin’s chair across the room and into the wall. At age thirty-nine, I was only fifteen years older than Eden and Justin, our current acting apprentices, but that may as well have been a hundred years to them. The other apprentices in production and business tended to be a bit older, but these were the two I was in charge of and that made them see me more as a mother than a peer.

“It’s a fake name,” I said. “That’s why you can’t find anything about him.”

Justin popped up and took a couple of long strides to tower over me and Eden.

“Wow,” he said. “I guess that makes sense.”

“How do you know that?” Eden asked.

“What’s the name of this theater?” I asked.

Eden rolled her eyes and quickly said, “Shakespeare’s Basement.”

“And it’s named that because…”

Justin spun toward me, eager to answer one of the questions.

“That was the name of the first movie starring our dear founder, Duff Martin.”

“A movie directed by…”

Justin started to answer this one as well, but Eden held up her hand to stop him while keeping her eyes on me.

“You’re kidding, right? He wouldn’t do that, would he?”

“It’s a guess, but yeah, I think so. Why else would Duff insist on being here to greet our newest visiting artist, a visiting artist, I’ll note, who was not originally scheduled for this season?”

“I’m confused,” Justin said.

“The visiting artist is Theo Proper,” Eden said. “Duff feels like he owes his career to the guy even though Theo Proper is a p*****t and s****l harasser at best and a r****t at worst.”

“This is why I wanted to be here when he arrives,” Duff said, clearing his throat dramatically before entering the office. “To head off the rumors and—”

“I quit,” Eden said, launching herself out of her chair. “I will not work with that man, and I’ll have my father’s law firm shut this entire place—”

not“Please sit down and let me explain.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Duff’s charisma made it hard for anyone to say no to him.

“You could have at least let us know beforehand,” I said. “You could have let me know.”

me“I couldn’t.” Duff’s broad shoulders rose and fell. “He wanted to… They wanted to be the ones to—”

They“They?” Justin asked.

“Theo and Mary Sue. Here together to work on a piece about forgiveness and moving forward and—”

“You brought his first victim here too?” Eden screeched. “When did this turn into Jerry Springer?”

“Mary Sue is his wife now, and it was her idea,” Duff said. “They’ll be coming inside any second now. Just please keep an open mind until you hear what they have to say.”

I sighed and nodded defeatedly. Eden didn’t say anything, but she was fidgeting enough to power a small country. Duff led us into the lobby of the theater. There we fanned out into a semicircle, Duff and I in the middle with Eden on my side and Justin on Duff’s, as Theo and Mary Sue entered the theater.

Theo Proper was barely five feet tall and had wild brown hair that looked like a cross between Albert Einstein and Bob Dylan. He was wearing a burgundy corduroy suit with a paisley shirt underneath and orange-tinted ’70s-style glasses. Mary Sue Sun was taller by several inches and had bleached-blond hair worn straight.

She was wearing wide black yoga pants that came to the middle of her shins, mustard-yellow Doc Martens boots, a plain red T-shirt, and a yellow crushed-velvet vest and matching bow tie. Theo was in his late seventies and moved with the slow pace of age and money. Mary Sue was almost thirty years younger with calm, soothing movements.

Duff spread his arms wide and offered a booming welcome to the couple. We all put up a good front and welcomed them as Duff introduced us. He saved me for last.

“Peggy Knopf,” he said, “our artistic director, my right hand, and basically the woman who keeps this place up and running.”

“He’s not wrong,” I said, squashing my tendency to self-deprecate.

“We’ve got an apartment over the theater all set up for you,” Duff said, separating Theo, Mary Sue, and himself from the rest of us.

Theo nodded and whispered something in Duff’s ear. They hugged, and then Theo and Mary Sue went off to the apartment while Duff rejoined us.

“See. That wasn’t awful.”

“After what you said to the Times, I can’t believe you’re dragging the reputation of this theater and all of us through the mud for that monster,” Eden yelled.

Times“Shhhhhh,” Duff said, moving toward Eden to squeeze her arms—one of his go-to calming moves when someone was upset, despite that I’d told him umpteen times to respect personal space. I hurried to put myself between them, but Justin was already a step ahead of me and shoulder-clipped Duff to keep him from touching Eden.

“Dude,” he said. “Hands.”

Duff pulled his hands back like a chided toddler and snorted, then walked away.

“We’ve got to stop this,” Eden said.

“Let’s all go get a coffee and talk this out,” I said.

“Coffee? That’s your answer to this nightmare?”

I sighed and tried not to explode. She’d been like this a lot lately. Eden was an amazing actress because she was a raw wire. She was a former party girl and, if you believed the rumors, something of a suburban d**g maven, but I’d never seen anyone put themselves out there so completely in front of strangers. She was also young and hadn’t quite learned how to harness it. That’s what the creative team and I had been working on with her.

Because of all of that, the stress of being in the final stretch before premiering our new play was getting to her, and the stress of working with someone so young and raw for the first time in ages was getting to me. Duff couldn’t have picked a worse time to spring his little surprise on us.

And I suspected that was why he’d done it. He’d hoped we’d all be so wrapped up in getting the new play across the finish line that we wouldn’t have the energy or the mental capacity to put up much of a fight. He hadn’t counted on Eden.

“We all just need to really think about this and make sure we don’t blow this opportunity,” I said.

“Opportunity?” Eden shrieked. “We have Hollywood’s number one r****t in our theater, and all you can think of is the opportunity? I expected better from you.”

I couldn’t help myself. I reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders. My voice dropped to barely a whisper, but I’m certain people on the other side of the country could hear what I was saying.

“There is more than one kind of opportunity,” I said. “We have an opportunity for justice.”

I felt the tension in her body ease when I said that, and I took my hands off her shoulders.

“Girl or not, you don’t have the right to touch me like that,” Eden said, matching my volume, if not quite my intensity.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Let’s take five, then we can meet with all of the other staff in the black box to game-plan.”

Eden nodded but didn’t move.

“Thank you,” she finally said. “Five.”

The black box was part rehearsal space, part experimental theater, and part confessional. It’s where we worked out complicated scenes, complicated emotions, and had hard conversations. What we were about to discuss was all of that at once and was going to test even the most battle-hardened of us emotionally.

“I worked with Theo Proper at the peak of his power in Hollywood and New York,” I said to the group. “I know everything that he’s capable of.”

everything“Then why are you being such a—”

“Please, Eden, just give me the floor right now. You will be heard. I promise.”

She stopped talking, but she didn’t sit down on the floor with the rest of us. Instead she continued to pace and fidget. I wanted to give her the space to work through what she was feeling without being domineering, but she was distracting me and the others in the box with us. Luckily Justin spoke first and took the hit as the bad guy.

“For god’s sake, Eden, sit down will you. I’m getting the jitters just being around you.”

She finally calmed down enough to squat down next to him and chew on her nails instead of pacing around.

“We have to present an absolutely united front to make sure we’re heard,” I said. “No half-c****d improvised plans or emotional outbursts, okay?”

They all nodded, even Eden. I knew she wanted to do this right; I just wasn’t sure if she had the maturity or emotional fortitude to pull it off. There was no way to cut her out though, so it was just a matter of doing whatever I needed to do to keep her in check.

“You’d think murdering someone every night on stage would be more cathartic than it really is,” Eden said, smiling for the first time I’d seen all day.

“Glad to see you’re all in a better mood,” Duff said, interrupting us and sitting down next to Eden.

She stopped laughing and shifted away from him and closer to Justin.

“We were just talking through some stress relief from the burden of our current show,” I said.

“I’ll admit the timing of all of this could have been better,” he said.