Spellcrossed Read Online Free PDF

that came back to bite me in the ass.
    “The professionals are griping,” Frannie reported. “They say you don’t give them as much attention as the others.”
    “They don’t need as much attention!”
    “I’m just saying.”
    For the next few days, I gave the pros “extra attention.” End result…
    “They say you don’t trust them,” Frannie told me. “That you’re treating them like amateurs.”
    “I’d like to treat them to a swift kick in the ass.”
    Instead, I set my sights on Debra, the most experienced actor in the company. If I could win her over, the rest would fall in line.
    I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Debra was big, brassy, and ballsy—and completely set in her ways. She’d played the wicked orphanage director Miss Hannigan before and saw no reason to do anything differently this time.
    I considered it a good sign that she arrived right on time for our first one-on-one in the Smokehouse. Then she blew a hank of brown hair off her forehead, plopped onto a chair, and folded her arms across her chest. As her gaze drifted around the room, I wondered if she was studying the posters on the wall behind me, each emblazoned with the words “Directed by Rowan Mackenzie” in letters as dark and forbidding as Debra’s eyes.
    I forced a smile and praised her work in rehearsals. She nodded absently and glanced at her watch. So I cut to the chase and earnestly suggested that she consider Hannigan’s backstory and find moments to let her genuine desperation shine through—without, of course, losing the humor.
    Debra frowned. Then she burst out laughing. “Oh, God. You really had me going. For a minute, I thought you were serious.” Her smile abruptly vanished. “You’re not serious, are you?”
    “I’m not asking for
Long Day’s Journey Into Night
. Just pick a few moments—”
    “It’s
Annie
! A musical based on a comic strip! You work the laughs, try not to walk into the furniture, and accept the fact that the kids or the dog will always upstage you.” She heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Let me guess—first season directing?”
    “No! My second.”
    “You’ll learn.”
    After favoring me with a pitying smile, she waltzed out of the Smokehouse.
    Way to win her over, Graham. Now she thinks you’re an artsy-fartsy novice.
    I glowered at the posters, but I had only myself to blame. I’d been so desperate to leave my mark on the show that I’d tried to play Rowan Mackenzie.
    Stupid.
    Had I delved into Ado Annie when I’d played the role? No. I’d learned the lines, worked the comic bits, and enjoyed a vacation in the country. Which was what Debra wanted to do.
    Stupid, stupid, stupid.
    And even more stupid to waste time fine-tuning a perfectly acceptable performance when I had much bigger headaches.
    Like Paul, the earnest Mackenzie playing cheesy, breezy Bert Healy. He was about as breezy as one of Hal’s mannequins and sounded more like a soloist in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir than a radio show host. If you’re never fully dressed without a smile, Paul was half-naked.
    Then there was Bill, the community theatre actor playing Warbucks’ butler. You could drive a bus through his pauses. A simple “Everything is in order” required a glance heavenward, a considering frown, and a thoughtful nod before he delivered the line. His entrances and exits added a minute to every scene he was in.
    “Could he walk any slower?” I fumed to Reinhard after the Scene 5 work-through. “I swear to God, Lurch was livelier.”
    “Lurch?”
    “
The Addams Family
.”
    “Ah, yes,” Reinhard replied. And followed up with Lurch’s deep, shuddering groan.
    “I can’t wait until he brings Arthur in at the end of the show. Talk about the slow leading the slow.”
    “You are the director. You cannot allow him to control the pace. Or the scene.”
    “I’ve given him the same notes after every fucking rehearsal!”
    Reinhard winced a bit at my profanity. “You still want to be a helping