AN: Bit of a break between the previous chapter and this one, life got a bit hectic and I apologize for the wait...and the quality of this chapter. It's not quite as solid as I hoped it would be, but really, there's only so much that can be said about the posting of a cast list. Sorry to anyone who was hoping for some BA/BFA drama (and no, to anyone who's curious, the rivalry between BAs and BFAs, in my experience is NEVER this bad), but stay tuned, for drama will be afoot anyway! I've got big plans for future chapters, big plans! And some developing romance, though I won't say between which characters...
Disclaimer: None of the characters from any incarnation of Phantom of the Opera belong to me. Nor am I affiliated with Facebook. Any musicals, books, plays, movies, people or places referenced by me are the property of their respective owners. I am making no money off the utilization of anything with a copyright.
God, I hope I get it.
I hope I get it.
How many people does he need?
God, I hope I get it.
I hope I get it.
How many boys, how many girls?
Look at all the people!
At all the people!
How many people does he need?
How many boys, how many girls?
How many people does he...?
-A Chorus Line
Anticipating that this audition would be run just like the previous one she suffered to gain admission to St. Mary's, Christine handed her sheet music over to the accompanist. This gentleman was much more polite than Erik had been, he was a thin man with a shaved head and thick eyebrows, darkish complexion pointing to a Mediterranean heritage. He smiled as he introduced himself, displaying brilliant white teeth, "Hi there, Christine, I'm Gaspard, I'll be the musical director of this little tragedy."
Christine giggled, perhaps inappropriately and enthusiastically replied, "Hi! It's nice to meet you!" Assuming that preliminary greetings were over, since, besides Gaspard, it was just her and Tim in there, along with a slightly unwashed looking stage manager who made no move to introduce himself, Christine stood on the red performance X taped onto the floor, but Tim surprised her by asking a question before she began her monologue.
"What the fuck is going on out there?"
Yeah, that threw her for a bit of a loop. "What do you mean?" Christine asked, honestly confused, since she thought her friends were doing really well. Tim sounded...really pissed, actually and she could only conclude that his BFA kids were somehow letting him down. Oh, crap, what if none of them got into the show? Oh, crap, they would be so screwed and they'd probably end up costuming those horrible people, like that girl who called Charlotte fat and -
Tim's sigh broke her doom-and-gloom reverie. "I would really like to know why I had twenty-five names on my sign-in sheet and now I'm down to, let's see, seventeen actually auditioning." Blue eyes pierced Christine's soul over the thin gold frames of the director's eyeglasses. "I'd actually love to know why I have twenty-five people auditioning at all when I only intend to cast the ten of you. This evening is turning into quite an extraordinary waste of mine and everyone else's time. I'm just wondering what possessed Erik to turn my theatre into a madhouse yet again."
"It wasn't Erik," Christine said defensively, actually she felt a little offended on Erik's behalf. Why did everyone seem to have it out for Erik? Sure, he was a little impulsive and weird, but it wasn't like he plotted people's doom or seriously sought to harm anyone. He was eccentric. There was a decided dearth of eccentric people in their generation and Christine was proud to know one. "Seriously," she added, off Tim's disbelieving look. "It wasn't, some of the other kids were at the Bistro and they were talking about auditions and they were just...mean. Okay, yeah, Erik said stuff to them, but they started it."
Ah, yes, the old 'they started it' defense. Tim mightily resisted the urge to roll his eyes and failed. Really, these kids, kids though they may be, were in college now. Just because someone said something they didn't like, did not mean that they had free reign to behave badly themselves. Whatever happened to taking the high road? Then again, he was raised at the tail end of the Atomic Age, so who was he to talk?
"I am not interested in hearing about who started what," Tim said, holding up a hand for forestall any more rambling defenses from Miss Daee. "I just want to be sure that none of you are doing anything that might get the department in trouble. The school always threatens theatrical assimilation when they feel students of your ilk have gotten too big for your britches. Please tell me Charlotte hasn't called anyone a cunt yet."
Christine blanched visibly when Tim use the C U Next Tuesday word. It was one thing for an adult college professor to say 'shit,' or even 'fuck' and quite another for them to use such strong language in front of a student. She'd actually been a little nervous when Charlotte said it earlier in the evening. Little did Christine know that this particular genital euphemism was Charlotte's favorite swear word. The next few months would lead to a great deal more blanching.
But Christine was all ignorance and innocence tonight and could scarcely bring herself to stutter, "Um, no, I mean, yes, she did say...that word. To a girl. About a girl, not to her, I mean, she said the word near a girl and about her, but not to her. But the girl called her fat first - "
And there was the hand again. "Christine, what did I just say about that?"
"Sorry. But no one's doing anything to them, like insulting people's moms or telling people to leave. Erik and everyone are just kind of...exaggerating resumes." The ghost of a smile turned the corners of Christine's mouth upward a bit as she added, "Isn't that the best way to have a successful stage career? Make most of it up?" That was what her dad always said, anyway.
Evidently, he and Tim were of one mind in that regard. "Touche, Mademoiselle Daee, touche," he replied, exchanging a significant look with Gaspard over her head. "Alright, honey, let's get this over with. Oh, wait, out of curiosity, who are you playing in Ragtime?"
Smiling in full now, Christine replied without hesitation, "Oh, I'm one of the ensemble rich people! I don't have to dance, I just have to pose. And act nervous when I see immigrants and African Americans."
"Spoken like a true WASP," Tim said approvingly. "I'll be sad to lose you. Okay, I think I'll just ask for a song from you tonight, you've monologued enough for the evening."
It was a great relief, even if removing the monologue portion of her audition made Christine feel slightly paranoid – but then, what didn't make her feel paranoid? Did Tim think she was a bad actress and didn't want to torture himself? There was a real infusion of nerves and regret as she sang, assuming that she had disappointed Tim horrifically, but apparently that served only to augment her performance since Tim was smiling in a satisfied way at the end.
"Beautiful job," he said, jotting something down on the legal pad in front of him. "Alright, Christine, you're all set for the night, tell Charlotte to come in after you."
Obediently, Christine grabbed her sheet music and bid everyone goodnight – even the sketchy stage manager who looked right over her head when she addressed him. Charlotte was up and off the floor almost before Christine finished her sentence and she made her way over to the group. "What'd I miss?" she asked eagerly, sitting down on the floor between Meg and Sorelli.
"Four more girls just got up and left!" Meg squealed triumphantly, throwing her arms around Christine. "You rock! We rock! We all rock! We are totally fighting the proletariat!"
Erik cocked his head to the side at that enthusiastically inexplicable pronouncement. "How?" he asked, evidently puzzled.
Meg blushed deeply red at the ears, as she tended to do when she proclaimed things or said words that she did not quite know the meaning of. "Uh, that's a very good question," she replied. "And I will answer it. Later. When I so choose to. Peon." She knew what that word meant. More or less.
"Did Tim give you the third degree?" Armand asked, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.
Christine confirmed that, yes, Tim did give her the third degree and related the audition incident at least three times since one person always got up to perform during a crucial part of the story. It was a way to pass the time until midnight anyway. No one had any early classes in the morning and Tim, Erik explained, was not one to dick around with the cast list. Once he sat through auditions, he usually had the entire show cast in an hour. All told, after the bravado and blustering and general douchbaggery of the BFA alliance, only about five members of the BA rabble actually wound up going in to audition. The odds being stacked ridiculously high in their favor, no one could even think of sleeping before they found out how the show had been cast.
Auditions were over and done with by eleven and soon, their little group of organized misfits were the only people left in the building. Conversation lulled a bit, then rose as various members of their troupe took great pleasure in re-enacting a few of the snarkier fights that broke out over the course of the evening. As it turned out, Raoul could do a devastating sassy black girl impression, which even had Erik commenting that he could give Wesley Snipes a run for his money in To Wong Foo.
At long last the stage manager emerged and tacked the cast list on the cork board outside the box office. His greasy hair was covered by a knit cap and he didn't say a word or look at any of them before walking swiftly out of the theatre and disappearing into the darkness beyond the door. No one paid him any mind though, within seconds there was a ten-person rush on an eight by eleven inch piece of paper.
GODSPELL CAST LIST
(Thank you all who auditioned!)
Jesus – Frederick Richard (Save the People, All For the Best, Alas for You, We Beseech Thee)
John the Baptist – Raoul Chaney (Prepare Ye)
Jean Paul Satre/Judas Iscariot – Erik Theroux (It's All for the Best, On the Willows)
L. Ron Hubbard/Female 1 – Sarah Sorelli (Turn Back, O Man)
Jonathan Edwards/Female 2 – Charlotte Mendoza (Day By Day)
Leonardo DaVinci/Female 3 – Christine Daee (O Bless the Lord, My Soul)
Socrates/Female 4 – Margaret Giry (Learn Your Lessons Well)
Thomas Aquinas/Female 5 – Jamie Jameson (By My Side)
Galileo Galilei/Male 2 – Armand Moncharmin (All Good Gifts)
Marianne Williamson/Male 3 – Ahmed Yari (Beautiful City)
Some moments of silence greeted this list. Was anyone surprised that none of the BA majors actually made it in? Perhaps, a few of them, but Erik was at least aware of the fact that this was all one giant mindfuck. He was actually amused that he'd gotten his classmates to play along so easily, usually they were a little reluctant to join him when he decided to go people-baiting (like bear-baiting without the threat of dismemberment).
There was general relief, of course. Freddy actually let out a yelp of relief and delight when he saw his name listed as the Big JC. He separated from the group to engage in a private, happy dance of joy. For a solid minute or two, all was well amongst the BFA tribe. There were sounds of merry making and supportive hugs and tousling of hair. Of course, as generally happened once all the frivolities were over and done with, there was some complaining to be done as well.
"So...I die in the first act?" Raoul said, wracking his brain as he tried to think of exactly which song John the Baptist slipped offstage on.
Jamie rolled her eyes. "Oh, please," she said, clearly not pitying Raoul at all for his early death. "At least you get a song. I get, like, half a song. Not even."
"Uh, yeah," Ahmed said, giving Jamie a slight shove into the cast list which he regarded with mild consternation. "But you get to be Thomas Aquinas. Who the hell is Marianne Williamson? I've never even heard of her. Couldn't I be...Gertrude Stein or something. She's kind of like a philosopher."
"I'm L. Ron Hubbard!" Sorelli squeed. Yes. Honestly squeed. "I'm SO stoked! I told Tim, I said before, I wanted to be L. Ron Hubbard, I didn't care if I came on and just did the L. Ron Hubbard bit and left, I just wanted to be L. Ron Hubbard!"
Charlotte contemplated for several long seconds whether she should disillusion Sorelli now or later. Given that she was stuck singing her least favorite song in the entire show, she opted for now. "You do realize that no one will know whether you are L. Ron Hubbard or not, right? Not unless we're wearing t-shirts that say what philosopher we are and I hope not. That's hella tacky, I'll protest."
And thus, the battle of the century, BA vs BFA was solved by a simple cast list, firmly establishing the sanctity of the BFA company for this semester, at least. And all their trials, all hardship and all the plotting of yesterday flew out the window so that they could get down to the thing that theatre majors did best: complaining about the size of their parts.
"Seriously?" Ahmed asked, in a sightly louder tone this time, endeavoring to be heard over Freddy's continuous whoops of joy. "Does anyone know who Marianne Williamson is? Was? Is she still alive? Or is she a dude? Like, one of those old Englishmen whose names are like girls names? Anyone? Guys?"