Another Success for Herbie Wright

Herbie Wright stood before the tiny, toothpaste-spattered mirror in the small bathroom connected to his small office, staring into his own eyes, repeating his positive reinforcement phrases the requisite ten times each to make sure he got his morning off to a good start.

“I am a superstar. I can make miracles. My play is a success.”

Proper mental preparation was, he knew, the key to his success in a very, very difficult line of work.

Herding cats was much too easy a description for Herbie’s job. It was more like trying to catch, contain, and direct a million jelly beans as they spilled across the floor, rolling and flopping and twisting in odd and unpredictable ways and never quite going where one expected them to go. In short, it was nigh on impossible.

Herbie never had been one to shy from the supposed impossible.

His second and fourth Best Play of the Year awards – from the prestigious local mag The Harrowent Crusade, no less! – had been decried as impossible when he’d initially proposed them. He’d managed to not only pull off those productions, but to make something great from them.

And Jakob and Evie was going to be his greatest play yet. He could feel it in his bones.

The last day before the Opening Night was here. He’d already survived a week of hectic days that had had him mainlining coffee and caffeine tablets and living sleeping a cot tucked amidst the clutter of his office. More often than not he woke holding his master script, dotted with notes about what each actor needed to work on before the big night in order to ensure a perfect performance.

The real work was about to start, and Herbie couldn’t wait.

Finishing his morning ritual, he turned and took a deep breath, ready to face the challenges of the day. Ready to bring his newest, most exciting and innovative play yet, to raging, award-winning life.

When he walked onto the stage at nine a.m., the cast was already assembled and waiting for him.

“I need to leave early,” Amanda threw at him, eyes locking on his with focused intensity. As Evie, she brought all that smoldering heat to bear flawlessly, locking the audience in and wringing every emotion as she walked through the journey of a strong young German woman falling helplessly in love with her equally strong and equally young Jewish hero, Jakob.

Right now, he needed her intensity on the stage for a full run-through, though, and they both knew it. “I’m sure that Polly would love it if you left early,” he said carefully.

Jelly beans. They were all wibbly-wobbly, production-threatening jelly beans.

He turned away, moving on, though he noted the flicker of rage that she quickly controlled.

Gotta keep them on their toes, he thought to himself. Another key of a perfect production. Bored actors were boring actors.

The all fell in line after that, those needing to heading meekly to dress for the full rehearsal while his stage crew busied themselves with their assigned tasks – checking the stage set, checking the blocking marks, checking the lighting and sound systems.

While they were occupied, Herbie meandered to the front of the theater to check on the next crucial aspect of the play’s success.

He stepped out the staff entrance door onto the front sidewalk, and found Marco waiting for him. Dependable Marco! The sight of him buoyed his spirits even more and he greeted the man with a huge smile and a hearty handshake.

They’d worked together for three productions now, and they’d worked the kinks out of their system.

“They’ll be here in an hour or so. Still twenty-five a head?” Marco was all business, and Herbie could appreciate his dedication.

He nodded. “Right. Twenty-five. How many did you get?”

“Fifteen will be here for a couple of hours tomorrow morning, then another fifteen will show up right around seven. Thought that would be the best schedule for them. You get two hours,” he reminded Herbie.

“Right.”

“And I’ll need two hundred for the signs and such, and another hundred for transport fees.”

           Herbie took a breath and reminded himself that advertising was a deductible expense and that having a healthy protest in front of your play on Opening Night was the best way to get full coverage online. Nothing sold tickets better than controversy. Plus, these fifteen twice a day for a couple of days would be all that was needed for things to grow organically, if everything proceeded properly. Last play he’d had to sneak the actors in the back doors before performances, the protestors had gotten so riled up, and it had been glorious!

           “I’ll send you it all before curtain up,” Herbie assured Marco.

           The other man nodded, left, and Herbie headed back to the stage and his gaggle of jelly beans.

           When five p.m. hit everyone was exhausted and tetchy, and Herbie pulled his usual card of a ‘party’ – pizzas and sodas – to let them relax for a bit before the last check-in meeting. He had taken copious notes, but most everyone was up to speed on their performances. There was a laggard who’d need a lecture with the curtains – they were new this year, brilliant scarlet and horribly expensive, but Herbie had already told Sam three times to work them so they were smooth, and apparently he hadn’t been.

           Jelly beans, he thought. Pretty jelly beans.

           He watched them pick at their pizzas and drink their soda, and manfully ignored the bottle of something stronger than soda he saw passing not-so-surreptitiously from hand to hand.

           Amanda had left right before the pizza arrived. Herbie wasn’t sure how he was going to handle that yet, whether he was going to allow it and let her back the next day, or just let Polly take the role. Polly, he noticed, was laughing uproariously and holding her single piece of pizza uneaten, but she kept looking at him, and he knew what she was thinking. He just wasn’t sure if that abrasiveness that she gave off in waves would work for Evie’s character as well as Amanda’s intense smoulder and that full-lipped pout she had.

           And, he thought, the fact that he was even considering having her back proved that he wasn’t a hard-ass after all!

           The party wrapped up and he met with them each to discuss their performances. It didn’t take long.

           “Mary, I need more threat out of you. You’re a nazi for God’s sake, be a ballbuster!”

           “Sam, you need to put another hour into the curtains. Yes. Now. Go!”

           “Kath, you’re doing good, but we still need more adoration from you. Complete adoration. You love Evie with all your heart and soul!”

           Finally he got up and reminded everyone of the most important element of the play. “Remember, people, we’re leaning into this. They’re not supposed to be together. It doesn’t work. It doesn’t make sense. We’re humanizing the shit out of these people, and the audience is going to love it!”

           Love it, hate it, feel it offensive to various beliefs, cultures, facets of history, all the same, right? It didn’t matter, Jakob and Evie had been designed to hit all those buttons in the human psyche that made people hurt, and his couple’s angst and inability to be together had so much more depth than Shakespeare’s little family feud. It was going to make him buckets of moolah.

           “Now get out of her and get sleep, we’ve got a big day tomorrow!”

           “I’m a superstar. My play is a success.”

           After starting his day right, Herbie verified that the protestors had arrived on time, and shepherded his little jelly beans through the gauntlet they had make with their signs and shouting. Everyone had checked costumes and sets and various mechanical apparatuses and it was almost time.

           Excitement was shooting through every inch of Herbie’s body as he looked over the faces gathered before him. Amanda was there, ready to go, and Polly was sulking visibly on the fringe of the gathering, having had her hopes dashed when he’d decided he wanted seductive Evie more than crazily magnetic Evie.

           Maybe later in the run he’d talk Amanda into letting her do a few matinee showings of the play.

           For now, he raised a hand.

           “Folks, this is it, and we’re gonna be great. We’re all gonna be great!”

           He turned, peeked his head out of the brilliant scarlet curtains and looked over the half-full house. Not quite what he wanted, but it was a good start.

           “No one, absolutely no one, is doing what we’re doing now, and no one is ever going to forget that we’re doing it!”

           With a final smile of benediction, he turned, stepped from the curtains, and waited until the light was on him.

           “Welcome, everyone, to our first showing of our World War II-set version of Romeo and Juliet. Welcome to…Jakob and Evie!”

           And the curtain went up, and the play began, and Herbie once more breathed in his success.