Free Tender Deception by Heather Graham Page B

right!” Monte agreed. “And as a favor to me, I’d like you to act a little more decently. I was lucky to get him. He only came here as a personal favor. You know I couldn’t possibly pay the salary he could be receiving elsewhere.”
    “Well,” Vickie said curtly, “he should have come as a personal favor to you. There wouldn’t have been a Brant Wicker if it weren’t for you.”
    Monte waved a thin hand in the air dismissively. “That’s where you’re wrong, Vick, and I think you know it. Brant would have gotten a break somewhere else. He never needed much luck; he had talent.”
    Vickie said nothing in reply. She was being churlish, and she knew it. She couldn’t deny Brant’s acting ability, and she winced at herself as she argued against him. Had they never met, she would have been thrilled with the prospect of sharing the stage with him. She deplored her own attitude and made a mental note to keep her personal feelings entirely to herself. It was sad to pride oneself on professional ethics and sophisticated work habits and then turn around and sound like a spiteful ingénue.
    “Onstage. Scene three!” Jim called.
    “You heard my main man,” Monte said, smiling at her wryly. There were times when Jim even told Monte what to do.
    “Yes, and I’m rushing to obey!” Vickie chuckled. Springing to her feet with script and pencil in hand, she started for the stage.
    “Victoria.” Monte stopped her quietly.
    She stopped at once and glanced back at him curiously.
    “I meant what I said. Please be decent to Brant.” Seeing the stubborn set to her chin, he added softly, “Please. I’m not threatening you, you know that. Just be nice and decent for me.”
    “Monte!” Vickie chuckled, a mischievous twinkle flickering in her eyes. “When am I ever indecent?” Sobering, she added, “I’m sorry, Monte. You’re right, Brant is exceptional; we’re lucky to have him. And I shall be charming and entirely decent!”
    She spun gracefully around and bound for the stage, accepting a hand from Bobby to leap up to the planking.
    Monte’s voice took on its professional “directorial” tone. “Duke, senators, upstage right at the table. Messenger, Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderigo, and Desdemona, offstage left. Go!”
    Blocking was slow and tedious. It was a time when the actors were free to speak, make suggestions, voice complaints, and clarify misunderstandings of any lines. Vickie, who didn’t enter until halfway through the scene, when she was called upon to declare her love for her new husband before her father and the duke, sat on the planked floor for thirty minutes before she heard her own cue, the final line of a speech by her father.
    Her part of the scene went well. Only moments later, the duke, the senator, and others made their exits. Then came Othello’s final line entreating her to come with him: “Come Desdemona, I have but an hour of love, of worldly matters and direction, to spend with thee. We must obey the time.”
    “Put your arm around her waist,” Monte directed Brant. “Vickie, you do the same, but slowly as you watch him, having the action last while you walk offstage.”
    Brant did not move his arm as they reached the wing. “You can let go now,” Vickie said dryly.
    He complied with a grin. “Pity. Although who knows? By the time we reach act five, I may be happy to smother you.”
    “I guess I’m lucky this is just a play,” she replied sweetly. Damn! So much for decency, but there was something about his look and touch that goaded her, no matter how earnest her intentions were to be pleasant.
    “I guess you are,” Brant smiled, his voice subdued, belying his true thoughts. His blue gaze swept her briefly. “Excuse me, I promised to watch the end of the scene for Bobby.”
    He turned on his heels and left her with the silent agility of a cat to take a seat near Monte and focus on the speeches of Iago and Roderigo that ended the act. Vickie remained behind the drawn