A/N: You know the problem with having a prologue with your story? You mess up the chapters until you remember to label them appropriately. Anyway, the scene of the play being rehearsed is entirely my imagination. It is not plagiarized from any other known script.
Chapter Four
Rehearsal
"You asshole!" Alyson shouted. "I let you spend all my money and sit on your ass all day in my apartment. And I find you've been cheating on me with that slut?"
"I'm not cheating on you!" James replied, flatly. "Alyson, you're closer to me than anyone. I need you."
"Is that what you told her too? How many other girls have you slept with while I've been at work?"
"Uh…hang on." James flipped the page over and read the line. "I didn't sleep with Bethany…you see Carol I'm gay."
"No, no, no." Professor Murphy said, stepping up onto the stage. "James this is a very emotional part of the play. You need to read this line with more feeling, you want Carol, the girl you've been dating for a year to be shocked by your response."
"Well I could read the line better if it were all on one page."
Bad move, I thought, slouching in the theater seat.
"Could you now?" The professor said in a cutting voice. "Perhaps you'd also read the line better if you actually studied it."
"I had a lot of homework."
The professor paced around the stage, gesturing to each student present as she spoke. "Alyson has homework every night. She also corrects papers and directs rehearsals when I'm not here. Maxwell manages to juggle a 4.0 grade point average while playing the trombone in the school band, and he's devoting his time to this production I might add. Theodore has a part time job he must focus on while he goes to school here. Tell me James, what do you do with your time that these people don't? Because you're the only one who's not studied that script and it's costing us valuable production time."
What amazed me was how calmly the professor was saying all of this, and yet James jaw dropped as if she were yelling it at the top of her lungs. Alyson looked up at me and rolled her eyes. I nodded to show agreement.
"I'll study all night tonight," James said, pleading. "Just please, don't take the part from me, this is my big chance."
Professor Murphy crossed her arms and paced along the stage. She stopped and turned to regard him, as though she were seriously considering dropping him. I knew better though. She gave me that same act when I left high school ten years ago, only then I wasn't rehearsing a part in the play. Back then she wanted to gage my passion and find out whether or not I was worthy of the gift of eternal life.
James looked like he would die if he didn't get the part. I could feel the passion burning inside of him, and I knew if he was given the chance he'd prove himself. This wasn't the same passion I'd seen in other freshman. Most students come to college like Lyndon State and they think it's a four year party on their parent's dollar. James was an actor, and he knew he needed these four years to strengthen his skills and master the craft. His only problem was juggling his priorities and we could help him with that.
"Take the rest of the day to study your lines." Professor Murphy said finally. "Practice, rehearse, read every line forward and backward. When you are on this stage you are no longer James Phelps, you are Marcus Sattler, a man in his early thirties who has denied his sexual orientation and will do whatever he can to convince himself and others that he is straight. Marcus Sattler is desperate for Carol's understanding and friendship."
"I will," James promised.
"In the meantime, I want to show you how it is done. Simon!"
I sat up and gestured to myself, as if I were surprised she would call me. The professor motioned me down and I swaggered down the steps, grinning playfully as I climbed up onto the stage.
"Stop showing off," the professor snapped. "Simon, you've been reading my play for a while. Do you have all the lines down?'
"Naturally."
"James, watch his every move. Simon, you will do this scene with Alyson and then, I want you to work with James. Help him get better, understand?"
I bowed and the professor went back to her seat. The set wasn't complete, but that was fine since this scene was on my feet most of the time. Alyson took her position and I took mine just outside the "door" of the apartment.
"Begin."
I placed an imaginary key in an imaginary keyhole and opened the door. Alyson stood there with her arms crossed.
"Where were you last night?" She demanded.
"I…I was at my mother's."
"That's not what she said. You want to try another one?"
I ran my hand through my hair.
"Oh that's right," Alyson said, getting into my face. "You've just got so many secrets don't you? You sit on your ass all day, you can never hold down a job, you eat constantly and when you're not eating your asleep on the couch. Now you think you can just walk off and not tell me where you're going to be?"
I collapsed in a plastic chair that was meant to be the sofa. The set wasn't complete yet so we improvised.
"I was out with a friend." I said, wringing my hands and looking at everything accept her.
"What friend?"
"Bethany."
Alyson exploded.
"You asshole! I let you spend all my money and sit on your ass all day in my apartment. And I find you've been cheating on me with that slut?"
""I'm not cheating on you!" I snapped, jumping to my feet. "Alyson, you're closer to me than anyone. I need you."
"Is that what you told her too? How many other girls have you slept with while I've been at work?"
I turned away letting my hands fall to my side and looking down at the floor. I held the bridge of my nose for emphasis. Then I turned to Alyson and said very calmly, "I didn't sleep with Bethany. Carol…I'm gay."
Alyson's jaw dropped. She seemed to be angry and shocked at the same time.
"You…you're what?"
"I'm gay."
Alyson sank into the chair, looking up at me incredulously. Then her tone mellowed and her expression became sad.
"When did you…?"
"High school," I said. "Freshman year in the locker room, I caught a glimpse of a few of the guys in the shower and well...I knew if anyone ever found out I'd be dead."
"Perfect!" Professor Murphy said. "That is how you must act James."
I jumped down from the stage and went to where James was sitting.
"I'd be very happy to help you out," I said, holding out my hand. "What do you say we look at our schedules and find a good time to rehearse?"
"That'd be great," James said. I could tell as he shook my hand that he was truly impressed with my performance. "I'm surprised you didn't try for this part."
"Nah. I'm not into controlled performances. I like improv better, when you have to make it up as you go along. Anyway, meet me at dinner tonight and we'll talk turkey."
Professor Murphy gave a few last minute instructions to the other students. She gently admonished them to study their lines and prepare to read their lines off book by Monday. Alyson practiced her lines while I spoke to the professor.
"I didn't catch her name," I explained. "But the girl was definitely a Toreador."
"Yes, I made the same discovery," She said. "Alyson was searching for a poet named Chez. The reason she didn't find him is that none of Martin Chez's work has ever been published."
"Who's Martin Chez?"
"Exactly. No one ever knew who he was because he was killed in the blood hunt."
Alyson stopped what she was doing and turned her attention to the professor. I have to admit, I was interested too.
The professor sighed. "Well, someone had to tell you about this sooner or later. Martin Chez grew up in London during the late seventeen sixties. On his twenty-fourth birthday he inherited an enormous fortune from his father, a wealthy man who bred falcons for hunting.
"Immediately after getting a hold of the money Martin sold the family business and poured his finances into buying a studio, paint, oils, and canvases. He set out to be the next Botticelli and he soon proved to be worthy of the comparison. In addition to his paintings he was also an accomplished poet, and was called on occasion to read his work before students of Oxford and Cambridge. In 1773 Martin was embraced by the Toreador.
"Over the next century his paintings became more involved and his poetry was taking a drastic change. He did portraits of the Kindred princes of the era, which wasn't wrong in any sense, but the Elders began to worry that his work would draw unwanted attention. Fears of a new Inquisition arose as Martin did portrait after portrait of Kindred feeding, embracing, and battling one another. His sire approached him with these concerns, and Martin refused to hear them.
"The blood hunt was declared when he wrote a poem that all intents and purposes, told everyone how the embrace was performed." Professor Murphy paused for a second. "If I can recall, the stanzas that really stood out were, Give of your soul to me, and I shall give of my soul to you. Like a wave against the sea the pain will come, as the blood flies through your veins, you and I will be one."
"But who would have guessed it meant embrace?" I asked.
"Could you take the chance that someone might discover the truth?" The professor countered. "Hunters know what to look for."
Alyson stepped down off the stage.
"So when was this guy actually killed?"
"Very recently," Professor Murphy answered. "In the time since the blood hunt was declared Martin was able to escape the London Camarilla and hide here in the States. He became professor of art in Keene State in New Hampshire, and in that time I wouldn't be surprised if he had embraced several of the students he taught by the time he was put to Final Death."
"And this girl has been wandering around for God knows how long," Alyson summed up. "Well it doesn't make our job any easier. Do we kill her?"
"It's either that or the Prince will." I reminded her.
"I don't want either of you attempting to kill her," Professor Murphy said, firmly. "Eric wants us to deal with this as quietly as possible. Keep the other Kindred students from talking about this and spreading rumors, and try to keep the campus newspaper from writing articles about this incident. When the time comes I will kill the girl."