“And Aphrodite came and laid her hand upon the face of the child queen. O cruel diadem! So tenuously placed on this small head. O heavy mantle, do you not think you are yet too grave to be draped on the shoulders of a child? The king, her father, had gone to be with his queen world without end, and where once there was a man now stood a woman-to-be. Whence came her coronation came also her greatest sorrow. Matters of war, of diplomacy, of statesmanship were none of Aphrodite’s demesne. In this black hour she had no jurisdiction except in the child queen’s heart.”
In the communal dressing room, Peca carefully wrapped the swaths of crimson fabric that comprised her costume and packed it into her trunk. She resisted the urge to take it out again and touch it. She’d spent more than a little time in tactile exploration of its many layers and fabrics. In the box it looked like just a pile of various luscious red textiles but once she was clad in it she felt incredible. She would see if she could purchase it after the final performance. Her castmate Rohanna, the epitome of the child queen she played, was naked next to her and reaching across her to grab a hanger from the rack. Peca envied Ro her body. She was lithe, with slender hips and her breasts seemed perfectly sculpted. She was the perfect schoolgirl or cheerleader, and after a production last year she had become quite popular as a pixie. Maybe, Peca thought, she could achieve similar success with her costume.
“So, Pec” Ro giggled, dragging out each syllable “is that Mark out there in the theater? He’s a cutie.”
“Yep, that’s him.”
“Mind sharing?” Rohanna tittered, her elfin face drawn into an impossibly cute grin. Ordinarily Peca adored Ro’s face but it suddenly got on her nerves. For all the acting she’d just done, she was unable to hide her sudden tension.
“He’s not into that, Rohanna. Sorry.” Her thin smile was as arid as her tone of voice.
“He would be if you told him to.” The smaller woman seemed unaware of the sudden change in temperature.
Peca started toward the door. “I would never ask him to change. And put some clothes on. You know the Lady hates it when you wander around naked.”
At home Mark enthusiastically sang her praises. Curled up next to him on the couch, she ran a hand through her coarse hair. She kept it short and straight and liked to experiment with it. Today it was flipped. Mark planted a kiss on the tip of her nose, smiling widely.
“Oh honey, you were spectacular! You looked amazing and you were so fiery. So passionate!” Bathing in this stream of compliments, Peca forgot all about Rohanna and her request. Her head rested itself, it seemed, on Mark’s shoulder. She was so tired. As he continued to gush about her performance, Peca sleepily reminded herself to do a reconciliation before opening night.
As she walked into the Red Monarchy the following afternoon, Peca encountered even more new clients than there had been the day before. They were mingling, lurking, hanging about in the hopes of scoring a pass for opening night. The pass guaranteed a reserved balcony seat for the play and admission to the subsequent House gathering, known as the Court. This was the real prize, for while a ticket for opening night could be purchased, even the most well-heeled client was not guaranteed entry to the Court. Passes were granted, on occasion, to the favored few of the Lady of the House, or to the lovers or loved ones of performers. For everyone else dreaming of entering the Court there was the lottery, where all chances were equal and a down-on-his-luck college student had as good a shot as a wealthy celebrity at getting beyond the enormous gilded pocket doors.
So caught up was Peca in her thoughts that she walked right into someone at the foot of the grand staircase. She mumbled a hasty apology and looked up with a terse smile. So surprised was she to see the face of Lady Murano that she stumbled back involuntarily.
“Lady, I apologize” she bent at the waist and blushed profusely. Her cheeks took on the tone of pink chocolate. A cool hand touched her bare shoulder.
“Peca, darling, it’s absolutely alright. We’ve got quite the crowd in here today. I expect it will even busier the closer we get to opening.” Her eyes were dark and intense. Peca’s eyes were taken by the contrast between Lady Murano’s dark skin and her diaphanous ivory dress. Encircling the swanlike neck was a choker made of the same fabric as the dress and ornamented with some kind of crystal flower. It was a striking image that she cut, and her hair, dyed red at the ends and fanned out at the back of her head, completed the image by giving her something akin to a halo.
“I’ve seen you at rehearsal, you’re perfectly suited for your role as Aphrodite. Marie made an excellent choice in casting you. Opening night should be a debut for you, of sorts.” Peca was still being stunned at this unexpected compliment from the Lady as she continued. “Was that your Mark I saw watching rehearsal today?”
“Yes.” Peca grinned.
“Are things well between you?” The subtext was “Is he showing any signs of jealousy?” and Peca shook her head slightly before catching herself and nodding. She had yet to fully acclimate herself to the habit of easily holding two conversations at once.
“Everything’s great. He enjoyed the show and said he can’t wait for opening night-” She was about to say more but something in the Lady’s eyes stopped her.
“Are you bringing Mark to opening night?” Peca wasn’t sure how she was going to explain this to him. She shook her head and replied with a soft “no”.
“That’s a wise choice, Peca.” Her expression hadn’t changed, but her eyes softened and she leaned forward to place a kiss on Peca’s forehead. “I’d like to see more of your work. Marie told me what a help you have been with this production, and I think perhaps it’s time you proposed a production. After this is all over,” she waved her hand “we will talk. I’d better let you get to work. I may be at the rehearsal tonight.” With a warm smile and a swish of her skirts she was walking away.