The Outlaw Theatre was a converted old barn. Naturally, it had been added on to and changed, but in the end what it was, was a rustic theatre experience. It was a place where the audience sat on plastic seats, with their feet in the sawdust, and watched people sing and dance on a stage, that was everything from a saloon, to a high street at noon, to the inside of a bank.
The cast and crew of the theatre were a solid bunch, who had worked together for a great many years. Vanessa was in charge of everything, but instead of being a megalomaniac about it, she welcomed input from everyone.
Willow and Rosemary had grown up in this place, with the lights of the dressing room mirrors in their eyes. They had worn stage makeup before they had ever put eye shadow and lipstick on to go out. And they had done it all together. They still shared the same dressing room trailer out back.
Willow regarded herself in the mirror. The matinee had been a good crowd. A whole bus load of Japanese tourists had disgorged its photo-taking cargo, and the theatre had twinkled like a starry night sky with all the cameras clicking away. Usually Aunt Vanessa didn’t allow such things, but she was feeling generous today, and anyway the tour guide said they might have a revolt on their hands if they said no to photos. So it was photos during the show and then more after, where Willow, Rosemary and the rest of the cast, posed for a shot with each tourist.
Now as the crew reset the stage, Willow sighed and held a facial wipe up to her face.
“Should I even bother?” she asked. “I mean we’re on again in two hours.”
Rosemary was industriously wiping her face clean. “And what else are we going to do for two hours? I’m not going to go home to wash the dishes that’s for sure.” And she sat back and placed her stockinged feet on the counter top.
“Good point,” Willow said and began to wipe the heavy makeup off. She gingerly peeled her false eyelashes off and placed them in their plastic container. “Do you ever get tired of this?”
“Of the show, or performing?” Rosemary asked. She had picked up a magazine and was leafing through it.
“Both I guess,” Willow said watching her sister in the mirror.
Rosemary shook her head, “I get sick of the show sometimes. But show biz? Never! I want to go all the way to Hollywood. What about you?”
Willow smiled. One half of her lips still had red lipstick on, and the other was now clean. It was a strange effect. “Nope, I love this place. I just don’t know if I want to still be squeezed into a corset, and pretending to be Big Nose Kate, when I’m forty. You know what I mean?”
“Totally,” Rosemary said. “Maybe we could branch out a bit. Take a Shakespeare play and turn it into a Western or something? What? It could be fun!”
Willow laughed, “Oh sure. But which one to choose? Not A Midsummer Night’s Dream, that would be too weird. The Tempest? Twelfth Night?”
“Hell no! King Lear! But we have to speak in old English accents,” Rosemary laughed putting on a rather bad accent herself. “Do you think Aunt Vanessa would go for it?”
“No,” Willow said and shook her head. Her face was clean now and she reached up and undid the clips fastening her hair on top of her head. The strawberry blonde curls tumbled around her to below her shoulders.
“You are so pretty,” Rosemary said cocking her head on one side. “I hope that Tyler comes tonight so he can ask you out on a date.”
“Rose!” Willow protested, “He wants the Sawyer’s land too. He’s the enemy.”
“No he’s not,” Rosemary laughed. “He’s just a guy who wants to buy a farm. And he’s got the most perfect ass, ever! Did you see it, so perky in his jeans?” She growled making clawing motions with her hands. “Makes you just want to squeeze it!”
Willow threw her eyeliner at her. It bounced off Rosemary’s arm and she picked it up.
“You can’t say you didn’t notice how hot he is,” Rosemary said handing it back.
“I noticed, but we need the farm more than he does,” Willow said.
“Whatever,” Rosemary said and picked up her magazine again.
Willow sighed. She had noticed Tyler, but she wasn’t going to let that get in her way.
“So who was the guy I saw you talking to after the show?” she asked Rosemary.
“Oh him?”
“Yeah, so spill the beans,” Willow said.
“None to spill sister dear,” Rosemary said casually. “He saw the show and asked me out for coffee tomorrow. His name is Dave and he has the most intense greyish eyes, it’s weird but in a good way.”
“Good. So are you going?” Willow asked.
“Maybe,” Rosemary said. “I said I’d call him tomorrow.”
Seven p.m. rolled around and Willow and Rosemary were backstage again waiting to go on. The opening number was quite a complex musical number with a lot of dance moves and characters running on and off stage. Willow and Rosemary and the rest of the female cast, were dressed as prostitutes in corsets, pantaloons and petticoats with their hair in ribboned pigtails.
Willow’s cue came and she ran onto stage and stopped in the middle to deliver her line.
“Oh Uncle Alfie, please say it ain’t so,” she said and as she did her eyes alighted on someone in the audience. He had very fair hair and a goatee. Willow stood a moment longer than she was supposed to, feeling her heart jump in her chest. Oh God he was here! She ran off on the opposite side.
“Oh, he’s here,” she whispered to herself.
“What?” Randall asked. He was dressed as a lawman and sporting the most luxuriant, black moustache that he had waxed to up-turned perfection.
“Nothing, sorry I was talking to myself,” Willow said.
Randal patted her hand, “You need to get out in the fresh air more, dear.”
“Something like that,” Willow said.
And she was on again, this time running up steps on stage to a raised platform.
“Who will save us?” she crooned in her prostitute voice. There was a railing since this was supposed to be a balcony overlooking the street below. She waved out to the audience and smiled brightly, trying not to look at Tyler. But he drew her eye every time.
The song started. Rosemary and Joan, a large actress with jet black hair who always played the Madam, began to sing together. Their voices always worked so well with Rosemary taking the high notes, while Joan took the low ones. It was lovely.
Willow moved along the platform, her mind only half on her performance. Tyler was sitting with a whole big group of people. They were all together, passing a popcorn bucket and some other snacks along their row.
Suddenly, the spotlight was on her. Shit she had almost missed her cue. Willow began to sing her verse of the song. While she was busy, she climbed over the railing and grabbed onto the fireman’s pole in front of her. She had done this a million times. And each time she remembered that there was a little nail sticking out of the railing at just the wrong angle. Each time she did this she remembered to lift her petticoat.
This time, with her head full of Tyler, she totally forgot.
And as Willow slid down the pole for the end of her verse, she was accompanied by a horrible ripping sound. When she reached the bottom of the pole and stepped away from it to continue the dance routine with her partner, she realized that her petticoat had ripped all the way down the side and was lying on the floor in a heap.
Willow pulled her face in fake embarrassment, crossed her hands over her crotch in a coy gesture, and then carried on dancing in her white pantaloons. The audience went nuts and clapped like mad for her.
After that Willow relaxed and enjoyed the performance. Whenever she looked at Tyler, he was smiling. He seemed to be enjoying the show a lot. And as they took their final bow at the end, Tyler and his whole row stood up, clapping and cheering loudly.
Willow couldn’t help but beam.