Chapter Three

Mean Mr. Mustard

Rita slowly slid the thick bristles of the brush underneath her cheekbones as she sucked in her face. Once she was done, she dipped the brush back into the compact and pulled in her cheeks once more and made her right cheekbone more prominent. She put away the dark red powder and pulled out a similar compact, only this one contained an almost translucent powder. Rita hummed one of her songs from the second act absently and slid the brush over the top of her cheekbones. Once she was done, she tilted her head and examined herself. She had imagined Lady Macbeth as a sort of colder beauty, something untouchable and foreign. She supposed she had a natural sort of cuteness that that bothered her. No, Lady Macbeth had to look completely different. She sighed, satisfied with her cheekbones and reached for the eyeliner when the makeup room door slammed open.

Rita whirled around and smiled when she saw it was only the stage manager. "Everything all right, Billy?" Normally she would have been embarrassed to be seen only in her dressing robe by a man, but Billy Shears was a different matter entirely. She couldn't be completely sure, but she figured him to be about 60 years old. He had small glasses that covered his chunky nose and wispy grey hair that reminded her of goose feather. Besides, although he had never said a word, everyone knew he was gay. Billy was simply one of thousands who fled to Greenwich Village with dreams of acceptance, and he had found it while working in the theatre.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Rita, but there's bit a slight…costume change." Billy was one of three people in New York who knew her real name. The other two being that taxi driver from two days ago and Pete, of course. He was the first person in New York to have been friendly and she was eternally grateful to him. She raised an eyebrow. "I thought we'd finally nailed the costumes down. Is there something wrong with one?" Billy shook his head and she noticed he was holding something behind his back. She tried to catch of glimpse of it, but Billy shuffled. "No, no, no! Your designs are perfect! It's just that…well, Mr. Mustard would like a bit of a change."

Rita groaned and slid in her chair. "Oh, Christ! Not again! Seriously, the banquet dress was so much better before cleavage!" She flipped her hair out of her eyes. "I feel like a hooker not a queen! What does he want to change now?" She said angrily and Billy shyly held up what he had been hiding behind his back.

"What the hell is that?" Rita blinked as she looked at all the strings and buttons that hung from apparently was a piece of clothing. "It looks like some sore of a torture device." Billy smiled awkwardly and handed it to her. "It's a corset, actually. He wants you to wear it for the dream scene. It gives you," He blushed profusely. "Well, it gives you a bit of a lift, if you get my meaning." Rita groaned and rolled her eyes. "Really now? Is that really necessary?" Billy looked apologetic. "He's the producer and the producer gets what the producer wants." She sighed and held it up in front of her, looking unconvinced. "Sorry, Rita. Oh, and we need to get Roger in here to get on the Duncan makeup. Do you think you could go into the dressing room?" "No prob." Rita awkwardly carried all of the makeup supplies in her arms and balanced the corset underneath.

She walked out and knocked two doors down. "It's Eleanor! Can I come in?" The door opened before she finished and Rita gratefully set down everything in her arms on a table. The women's dressing room was very small and only had one bathroom to be shared with the 5 women in the show. "Eleanor! We were just about to come find you!" One of the women applying makeup in the long mirror turned around. Martha was quite small and shy with mousy brown hair and thin eyebrows. She was one of the three witches and then doubled as an extra during the banquet scene. Despite Martha being a few years older than her, Rita got the distinct impression that Martha looked up to her.

Rita ran a hand through her hair and as she leaned back against the table noticed a large bouquet of roses set down. She shot them a look and glanced at the card. She groaned. "Oh Lord, did he send me more?" Martha smiled. "Mhm! You know he always sends you flowers, Eleanor! I think he fancies you!" She whispered the last part conspiratorially and Rita replied sarcastically. "Really? You think?" Martha's face fell and Rita instantly felt bad. "You should take him up on his offers some time, Rita. He's worth quite a lot of money. You've been given an opportunity most women would die for."

Rita took Martha aside and they applied their makeup out of earshot of the other women. "Martha? Is everything alright?" She asked quietly and Martha bit her lip and looked down. Rita gently turned Martha's face towards her own and asked gently. "What's wrong, love?" Tears welled up her eyes and coursed down her face. "I don't know. I've having trouble making ends meet, and," She paused. "I suppose it's just that I'm a bit jealous of you." Rita laughed. "Me? Whatever for?" Martha smiled through her tears and laughed a little as well. "You're so good, Eleanor! And besides, you've got a perfect boyfriend and Mr. Mustard would do anything for you. Well, I just wish right now that someone would…want me like they do you."

Rita's face hardened. "Martha, Pete may be a lot of things but he is not perfect. Do not envy me on that matter." Rita's tone was so deadly serious that Martha was alarmed, but Rita's face softened after a moment. "And besides, Mr. Mustard is a dirty old man who wants nothing more than to get into my pants. He's a creeper, Martha. Can we get a bit more cleavage on the queen?" She did such a good impression of the producer that Martha laughed. "Do you really want that?" Rita grinned and Martha shook her head. Rita wrapped an arm around her. "One day, Martha, you're going to become so utterly famous that you'll look back with disgust on this low-rate production. You'll be draped in pearls and every man in New York will go simply crazy at the mere mention of your name." She gushed and Martha blushed profusely. "Oh, stop it, Eleanor!"

Rita grinned and sang, "Martha, my dear, though I spend my days in conversation please remember me! Martha, my love, don't forget me! Martha, my dear!" Martha smiled shyly. "I'm never going to be famous, so don't worry that I won't remember you." Rita looked offended. "Hold your head up, you silly girl!" Rita grabbed a booklet and pointed to Martha's name in the cast list. "Look what you've done!" She draped her arm across Martha's shoulders once more and led her out of the room. Martha smiled a little, but Rita saw the tears in her eyes. She laughed, "When you find yourself in the thick of it, help yourself to a bit of what is all around you! You silly girl!" Martha giggled a little and Rita led her over to the curtain on the wings of the theatre and opened it just a tad so Martha could see the growing audience being ushered in. "Take a good look around you! Take a good look around to see that you and me were meant to be for each other!" Rita waved an arm at the crowd and Martha hugged her.

They walked back to the dressing room and Rita sang. "Martha, my dear, you have always been my inspiration!" Martha snorted. "Be good to me! Martha, my love, don't forget me! Martha, my dear!" They both laughed and she whispered as they entered the dressing room once more. "Thanks, Eleanor." "No problem, Martha."

"Eleanor! There's something with your name on it on the table!" Bertha, one of the other witches called to her. "Thanks! I've seen the flowers already!" Bertha turned around from applying the prosthetics that turned her into a hideous old woman. "No, no. Something different. The cleaning boy said it was for you and left it here while you and Martha were out." Rita was confused. What else could be there? She dug around through the clutter on the table and found a small envelope that read Ms. Eleanor Rigby.

She ripped opened the top and peered in. Rita pulled out a piece of paper on which someone had written, Break a Leg. "What the hell?" She murmured as she looked at a small piece of paper that had fallen out of the note. It was part of a ticket that read B16. She turned both the ticket and the note over to try and find some clue as who exactly sent it to her. Seeing nothing, she left the dressing room and walked over to Emma, one of the ushers who happened to be backstage. Emma turned to her and looked surprised. "Why hello, Eleanor? What can I do for you?" Rita held out the ticket and the usher took it. "Sorry to bother you, Emma! I know it sounds ridiculous, but do you know that seat?"

Much to Rita's surprise, she nodded. "Mhm, last seat in the B row of the Orchestra. It's got a bloodstain underneath the chair so it sticks out in my mind." Rita grimaced and Emma quickly explained. "It came with the theatre. The cleaning boy noticed it." "Lovely." The usher handed back the ticket. "Why do you ask?" "Do you think you could do me a really quick favor?" Emma nodded and Rita continued. "Could you just walk past that seat and tell me who's sitting there? But don't let them realize you're looking." She instantly realized how ridiculous that sounded but the usher quickly ducked out the door into the auditorium.

A few minutes later, she returned and said, "Just some guy." Rita was even more confused. "What exactly did said man look like?" "Oh, I didn't look that closely." Rita shot her a funny look. "Well, er, do you think you could? I'll be in my dressing room. I've got to get ready." "No problem!" Rita headed back to the dressing room and as she finished putting on her makeup, searched her mind as to who exactly could be sitting there? Certainly not Pete. She snorted and put on her wig, making sure there were no stray hairs of her own poking out.

"Eleanor!" Emma burst into the dressing room and for the second time that evening Rita whirled around. Except that this time, there were other people in the room, which mean everyone else whirled around as well. Rita sighed, now everyone would be interested in hearing what Emma had to say. "What did he look like?" She asked anxiously and Emma grinned. "If I was younger, I'd be all over that, let me tell you." Rita blushed; Emma was going on her early seventies. Lord knows what exactly that meant. "Go on!" By now, all the others had gathered around. "What's going on?" Martha asked and Emma replied before Rita could stop her. "Some mysterious man is watching Eleanor tonight!" All the women gasped and Rita quickly explained. "No, no, no! It's just that someone sent me an envelope with saying good luck and a ticket stub. So naturally I wanted to know who it was. There was no signature." "How romantic!" One of the older women who played Macduff's wife said giddily. All the women began talking all at once and Rita shouted. "Hey! Can I just please figure out who this is?!" The room was instantly silent. "Thank you!" She sighed and turned back to Emma. "Continue."

Emma grinned. "Well, he's got rather long dirty, blond hair, but I suppose that's the style these days. Looks a tad older than you. Great jaw and cheekbones, rather piercing gaze. Gorgeous in that rebellious, grungy sort of way. Is he your boyfriend, Eleanor?" Max, Rita thought but did not reply. Seeing her pause, all the women gasped once more and began talking over one another. Rita was lost in thought and the third witch spoke up. "No, Emma. I've met her boyfriend before and he looks nothing like that." The woman smirked and crossed her arms. "Either he's changed completely and rapidly, or Eleanor's got one on the side."

Rita shook her head back into reality and snarled. "No, actually, Myrtle. He's just a friend." She then said coldly, "Have you heard of them before? Perhaps you've maybe had one throughout the years?" Myrtle had always hated her and gone out of her way to make life as miserable for Rita as possible. She had asked Billy about it and he had said that Myrtle had been dead set on the role of Lady Macbeth. Naturally, she was infuriated when Rita "stole" the role and held it against her.

The veins in Myrtle's neck popped and she opened her mouth in reply, but was unable to think of anything. They met each other's gaze and Myrtle looked away after a few seconds and retreated back to the mirror. "Sorry to ruin the excitement everyone, but the mystery's over! And," Rita glanced at the clock, "We're on in 20 minutes!" Everyone instantly scattered to whatever they had been doing before. Rita walked over to a mirror and tried to concentrate on finishing her makeup, but was unable to. Why was that taxi driver back? Was it for her? Rita blushed profoundly and convinced herself she was being childish. He knew she had a boyfriend, so it couldn't be anything like that. Did he just really like Macbeth? Yes, that's what it was. Max whateverhisnamewas had simply come back to see the show again and had been kind enough to wish her good luck.

Still, Rita lowered the eyeliner from her lid and tried to recall his face. Had he really been that handsome? She remembered him as being attractive, but something more than that? His eyes had been lovely, for sure. Emma was right when she had said they had been piercing. Little gems of speckled green and amber, Rita's inner poet reminded her. And he had had that sneaky little grin when he leaned back, just the right corner of his mouth that moved ever so slightly. And the way he had held her and she had been able to feel his the ridge of his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Stop it!" She whispered fiercely to herself as she broke out of her daydream. Rita shook her head and continuing applying eyeliner. "You know nothing about this man!" She said under her breath, "For all you know, he could be a serial killer who takes out his victims with a….silver hammer or something! Stop being ridiculous! You just met him and you'll never see him again!" Rita sighed and blinked as she set down the eyeliner in her personal makeup bin. "Get a grip!"

"Call time!" Billy shouted and all the other women hurried out of the room to backstage to prepare themselves for curtain call. In a few seconds, the previously bustling room felt empty as everyone but Rita left. She did not need to be onstage for about twenty minutes and always this time to mentally prepare herself. She changed into her first costume, a dark green dress that she was especially proud of and waited.

The time passed quickly and the next thing she knew, Martha rushed in and whispered. "You're up, Eleanor!" Rita smoothed out her dress and wig as she silently walked out of the dressing room. She stood in the dark corners of the wings of the theatre and took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her ears. She blocked out everything, even max, from her mind and felt as though she could simply melt into the darkness. Her pulse slowly and she felt almost dreamy as focused solely on herself. All traces of quiet, cute, pathetic little Rita were gone. She was Lady Macbeth. She then heard her cue line and stepped out onto the stage.

- - - - -

"Oh my God, was I alright?" Rita shut the door behind her and whispered to Martha. Rita untied the front of her dress as quickly as she could, having only a few minutes to change before the dream scene, the most dramatic scene of the whole show. Luckily, Martha was there to help with the costume change. "Come here!" Martha whispered and Rita quietly ran across the floor and turned around. As Martha undid the strings on the back of the dress, she laughed. "Good Lord, Eleanor! You're shaking!" Rita nodded quickly as the dress slipped off of her and pooled around her ankles. She shivered as she stood in nothing more than a strapless bra and panties. Martha brushed the wig off of Rita's shoulders and smiled. "I thought I was the one who had all the problems and here you are having a seizure! Eleanor, you were fantastic tonight! When you were doing that seduction scene, I was able to catch a glimpse through the curtains and I'm convinced every man in the audience tonight will dream of you."

Rita blushed and held out the corset to Martha. "Sorry, but there's bit a change. Mr. Mustard wants this on now, too. Apparently it gives me more cleavage. Classy, I know." She snorted and Martha wrapped it around her torso, then pulled the strings. Rita gasped and cursed loudly. Martha giggled and shushed her and began to tie all the strings. This went on for a few minutes, then Rita felt her stop and she looked over her shoulder. "Is there something wrong?" Martha looked up at her with concern in her eyes. "Eleanor, are you aware you've got a nasty looking bruise on your back?" Rita laughed, "Oh, well, that's because I, well, I fell backstage yesterday." Martha was unconvinced. "You fell on your back?"

"Well, I tripped. You know how clumsy I am!" Rita smiled strangely over her shoulder. Martha looked at her intensely. "Eleanor, this almost looks like a fist. Did someone punch you?" Suddenly, Rita recoiled and said angrily. "No! I tripped, all right! For Christ' sake, I didn't expect an inquisition!" Martha stepped back, surprised at Rita's uncharacteristic aggression and Rita looked away. She silently finished adjusting the corset and slipped on her nightgown. Rita slipped out of the room and felt tears spring to her eyes. She had tried to hide the pain of the bruise as best she could; when Martha had tugged the strings she had wanted to scream. Still, she hadn't been thinking and had been careless enough to let Martha of all people see the mark from two nights ago. A mistake she would not, could not make again.