Alex's POV
Yeah, it was my mistake for trusting him again. Should've never done that.
Brushing off the mini cyclone of rage within me by puffing it out, I walked back to the main stage area, since it was THE big day today and these things could wait.
Remember all talk about string theory and my job? Yeah, today it would come to fruition, if things go smooth with my dear colleague, Ben.
Standing near the stage, re-checking the equipment and scripts for final touches, I let out a loud sigh, enough to catch stray stares from the people around me.
It was because saw the reason of my messed up life walking towards me, with a cheerful hopping stride. He stoppped right in front of my face, looking down with his deadpan eyes at me. I naturally looked up, seeing mischief float around in those dead orbs of his, ugh.
Any attention could invite trouble, so I just ignored him, drifting my eyes at the other people scrambling around me.
"Kathy! The spotlights and side-lights are in the wrong direction!" I screamed at the light crew lead, gesturing her to fix them. She obliged and ran towards the balcony, fixing the light, somehow casting it onto the human statue next to me.
My eyes followed the light and fell upon him. He was still facing me, but his sight drifting around. His eyebrows were raised, as if surprised.
"Maybe I am a main character after all," He smiled wryly, casting pompous a glance at me.
Alex, it's okay, we can do this. We will deal with him later.
I assured myself and looked back at him, stretching my lips as wide into a corporate smile, with eyes squinted.
"What.. do.. you.. want now?" I spoke through my gritted teeth, not letting go of the smile.
"I... want to be backstage or monitor the play," he said, rather nervous, rubbing the back of his head.
"And... What... Makes... You... Think... I'll allow this?"
"Margie asked me," he shrugged.
As if this wasn't enough already.
My smile dropped and I hid my face with the script bundle, pinching my eyebrows.
"Alex are you okay?" He held my shoulders and threw a concerned expression, with lines forming on his rather smooth forehead.
Ever seen the reason of your torment ask you the reason?
This is exactly what I felt.
"Cool with me." I threw my hands in the air and started walking back to the backstage area. I gestured him to tag along. He complied.
We walked into the dingy small hallway, with doors on both sides for the actors to prepare. The light was dim and there was a general scent of old clothes. We walked to the props and costumes section, browsing through racks of general costumes of choice for this play.
A waft of fragrance passed by, covering everything in its sharp but sweet scent.
"Mmm... Pineapples," I said, sniffing at the air.
"AHCHOO!" Ben let out a loud sneeze, startling me out of the pineapple trance.
"Dude!"
"Sorry, I have allergy of pineapples and this room smells like a pineapple farm."
His button nose was now red, making him look like a distant cousin of Rudolph.
I let out a short chuckle, unable to hold back.
"Okay, whatever, just know you'll have to deal with worse things backstage. Just pineapple was enough to defeat you?" I scoffed at him, reprimanding him for the earlier comment.
Backstage, like for other play managers was an integral part of the play but for me was more of an operational center for the Rendezvous. It is where I could see the setting, props and sounds would match the scenario to be created and whether it can be materialised using the equipment. I saw some bath towels on the racks, a scuba diving gear and a one-piece pink swimsuit, a surf-board, coconut Pina colada on the side.
Guess we'll be on the beach today.
That kind of made me happy. Atleast something good is happening I guess.
Crash!
I guess not.
A sudden sound hit my ears.
I rushed to the source of the sound at the back, pushing away the rack of clothes aside and cutting through the props. I reached the corner of the room, which was covered with a run-down velvet curtain with holes.
Oh no, don't tell me-
Ben walked out of the curtains, unable to make any eye contact with me. His forehead had beads of sweat harbouring at bay, head dropping, perhaps in guilt?
"WHAT IS IT NOW?!" I yelled at him, causing him to flinch.
He didn't say a word. He simply pulled away the curtain, revealing the pedestal which housed a very crucial element for the show, encased in a glass box, which was well, now on floor at my mercy, shattered into a million pieces.
I threw a glare at him, wanting to say a few good words but nothing could come out of my mouth. It was agape, wide open and left me blank.
When senses came rushing to me in the next moment, I quickly jumped onto the wooden floor, to check whether it was still working. There was a faint aqua light still peeking through, showing signs of survival. I looked up at him again, with eyes that screamed, "F*CK off!"
I guess he got the cue, because he immediately ran off to somewhere.
I carefully picked the object and examined it, making sure no cracks had formed. After all, this was the most expensive equipment, the Vision Cube. It was nearly the size of a football, glowed a soft peach in its linear crevices when dormant and cerulean blue at times when active. This cube was how we created scenarios for people to meet. If this was gone, I was done for.
Right then, a message beeped on my phone, interrupting me.
"The play is about to begin, audience is seated, head to the projection room at once."
This was my cue.
I picked up the cube, wrapped it in a few rags of clothes I could find and immediately headed upstairs to the projection room, right behind the stage.