My Shadow in the Sun, Part Two

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fiction
Rating: Mature Content

LINK TO PART ONE: http://jrosemary.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-shadow-in-sun.html

~

I took Sheila's advice. As soon as I was home, I uncorked an old bottle of port and poured myself a glass. Then I strode into my living room and collapsed into a recliner.

I loosened my tie and kicked off my shoes as my body sank into the cushions. The next thing I knew, sixteen pounds of cat sprang up from the floor and landed on my lap with a thud.

"Good evening, Jack Falstaff," I said, grinning as I began to stroke the animal with my free hand.

He was a handsome fellow: he had a black coat with liberal white markings on his face, neck, belly, paws and tail. He looked as if he was wearing a tuxedo. I liked to think that we were similar in appearance. His black fur matched my hair and his pale blue eyes were the same color as my own. But that's where the resemblance ended. Falstaff, like his namesake, was a plump fellow. I had more of a lean and hungry look.

I took another sip of port as my eyes strayed over my bookshelves. My Shakespeare collection was front and center, but there was also a shelf devoted to the War of the Roses and a few books on Richard III himself.

I sighed and raised my glass to the last Plantagenet king. "I'm sorry, my friend," I said. "I don't think you were the villain that Shakespeare portrays. That's just Tudor slander. But no sense blaming Will--he had to live under a Tudor queen, after all."

I took a long swallow of port this time before setting the glass down. Then I put my hands behind my head and started thinking about the play. Should we edit it? Not to question Shakespeare's brilliance, but did he have to give Margaret so many lines? We could cut a few...

My cell phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. Falstaff shifted his weight as I pulled the phone out of my pocket and peered at the number. It was Sheila.

I flipped the phone open. "What's up?" I asked, bringing it to my ear."

Did you know that Sean is dating again?" she demanded.

I rolled my eyes. "Sean was dating again the night we broke up."

"That bastard!"

I raised my eyebrows at the passion in her voice. "Ah, not really," I assured her. "I didn't mind--it was an amicable parting."

"Damn," she said. "I was hoping you'd be furious."

I furrowed my brow at that. "Why?" I asked. "Did you want me to be heart-broken?"

"Ah, no," she answered cautiously. "But if you were furious with him, it would make it easier to reject him for the part of Richard."

"Why would I want to reject him?" I asked. "I won't make up my mind till the auditions, but I think he'll be a good match for the part. Besides, he's the best actor we have."

"I know," Sheila said. "But--well, here's the thing. I just spoke with my sister. She knows Mrs. David pretty well: they're on the same committees at our synagogue. And she says that Mrs. David has a son--a son that she thinks will be perfect for the part."

I clenched the phone as I took that in. "Mrs. David wants her son to play Richard III?"

"That's what my sister says."

"God damn it," I said. "Is that the price of her donation?"

"Well, no," Sheila said. "We already have the money, after all. And we already agreed to mount the play--that fills our end of the deal. But if she donated once, she might donate again..."

"If her son gets the lead," I said.

"Just so," she agreed.

Sheila fell silent, giving me time to fume. I already had my arm twisted over mounting this damned production. I didn't appreciate being handed a Richard I had never even met.

"Who is her son?" I asked abruptly. "Does anyone know him?"

"No," Sheila owned. "And that's odd, isn't it? He's thirty-two: our age. And he grew up in town. He should have been in school with us."

"He must have gone to a private school," I said. "Do you know him from your synagogue?"

"God no--I hardly know anyone there," she confessed. "I only go on the High Holy Days."

"Does he have any acting experience?"

"I don't know, Rob. But look, we are a community theatre," she reminded me. "Anyone can audition. Let's just see how he does."

I groaned. "You think that as long as he's half-way decent I should give him the part, don't you?"

"I do," she said. "Rob, you know the state of our finances. You know how hard it is to stay in the black--"

"And what if Sean can act circles around him?"

There was a long pause before she answered. "Sean is committed to our theatre," she said at last. "He knows we need the money."

I didn't answer that--I just hung up the phone in disgust. Sheila didn't bother calling me back. She had enough sense to give me some space.

She was right, of course. We did need any future donations Mrs. David might choose to bestow upon us. And Sean would understand. But I was loathe to let Mrs. David or anyone else run our productions. And I already despised her son.

I glared up at the ceiling. In deference to his mother's generosity, I'd find some bit part for this guy. But now I was determined to see Sean play Richard.

LINK TO PART THREE: http://jrosemary.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-shadow-in-sun-part-three.html