The Hamlet Trap Read Online Free PDF Page A

there’s nothing worth producing, nothing gets produced.”
    â€œMeanwhile the horse is long gone.”
    â€œWho wrote the goddamn thing? Maybe we could send him a mail bomb or something.”
    â€œHer. Sunshine. That’s all, just Sunshine.”
    â€œYeah, it would be. Boy, what a mess! Think we can talk him out of it?”
    â€œWe’ll let it ride over the weekend and meet Monday. You, Eric, William, Juanita, Gray, and me. Ten Monday morning. “I’ll hand out copies tonight or tomorrow. Don’t let on that you’ve read it until then, Ginnie. I don’t want any trouble over the weekend. God, I wish I could ask Kirby to come Monday.”
    She agreed that he could not do that. Kirby was out as of Sunday; this was not his fight. She went to the door. “He must see something in it that we missed. I’ll give it another good read over the weekend.”
    â€œAs I will, I assure you. Thanks, Ginnie. Just thanks.”
    She grinned at him. “Wonder Boy just might shake things up around here more than you counted on, Uncle Ro.” When he had decided on Gray as Kirby’s replacement, he had said the group needed new blood, needed a good shake-up. She thought that probably that was exactly what they were going to get.

FOUR

    All the rest of Saturday Ginnie worked in the shop, a large Quonset hut where the sets were constructed and stored. It always smelled of paint and newly sawed wood. She was making decisions with William, labeling items to be stored, making notes in her notebook to go in her file. Keep the bay window intact; break down the soda fountain from Bus Stop ; return the jukebox to the collector who had donated it for the season… . The Quonset-hut shop was a jumble of scenery, removed from the stage, brought out from backstage as each show finished now, each piece demanding a separate decision. Keep this flat, it can be painted a couple more times. That sofa has had it. Tear it down, keep the frame. It was hard work, and dirty work. The wonderful fireplace from Dracula —it worked on a revolve. When the secret panel opened, the whole thing turned to reveal the loathsome crypt of the monster… . Tear it down.
    She made notes. William made notes; Gary Boynton, the shop foreman, made notes, all different, not interchangeable. On Monday the actual work would begin; hoists would lift pieces to the overhead storage areas, the crew would attack other pieces with hammers, crowbars… .
    The crew began to bring in scenery from Pal Joey and Ginnie moved out of the way. Her hands were grimy, her face was dirty, her hair gritty.
    â€œHi,” Gray Wilmot called at the door. “William around?”
    William appeared from the rear of the shop. “Afternoon, Mr. Wilmot.”
    â€œPlease,” he said. “Gray. Just wanted to tell you that was a terrific set for Pal Joey . Really effective.”
    â€œThanks, but you should be telling Ginnie, not me.”
    â€œI thought Ro said you did them.”
    â€œNope. He said I build. Ginnie designs. I just do what I’m told.”
    Gary Boynton’s voice bellowed nearby. “Dammit, Mikey, don’t drop it!”
    â€œBetter move a bit,” William said, and stepped out of the way; Gray followed. Now he could see Ginnie.
    â€œI didn’t realize that was your work,” he said with a touch of stiffness. “They’re both really good. I’m looking forward to working with you. See you later.”
    He left, and William turned to look at Ginnie when she chuckled. “You baiting him, girl?”
    â€œNow, William, don’t be a nag. I’ve about had it for the day. How about you?” He nodded and she patted his arm. “Give Shannon a kiss for me. See you tomorrow.” Shannon was his semi-invalid wife whose heart condition grew steadily worse.
    The rain had almost stopped; now it was a patter of isolated showers from stranded clouds that looked