wasn’t interrupting something important,” Mac said, with no attempt at feigning
actual sincerity. I could tell he didn’t care that he had interrupted, or that
he had been rude.
I responded. I don’t think he expected my answer to be truthful, and he looked
taken aback. He had probably expected me to say “Oh, no worries! Nothing
important.” He made no comment, but backed off a little. When he continued
talking, he had a bit less snap in his voice.
schedule a crew call for you once your contract has been signed. You, me, and
all of our techs, so we can go over your trick and map out how it will be
safely implemented into the show.” He knew that calling what I had done a
“trick” instead of an illusion I would take as a slight. It’s sort of like
telling someone who had just won an Olympic gold medal and was proudly wearing
it around their neck, that their necklace was cute. Mac kept incessantly
tapping his Sharpie on the side of his clipboard and shifting his weight
between his feet.
slowly and calculated, looking him square in the eye, which probably surprised
him a bit, since he was at least six feet tall. I’ve always enjoyed the luxury
of being a tall girl. I’m five foot nine inches and so while I don’t usually
tower above any guys I know, I can definitely look them directly in the eye.
Most girls who at five feet five inches (which, I believe, is an average height
for a woman) have to look up. My height was an advantage that I never took for
granted and here, again, I was happy that I didn’t have to look up to
him—figuratively or literally. In heels I could even be as tall or taller than
him and I’ve always loved that part about being the height I am. I half smiled
and slowly spoke, “Maybe you misunderstood. I don’t show anyone how it’s done.
That wasn’t just for the audition. I handle this illusion on my own.”
for a moment, and then glanced up from his clipboard, looking irritated. He
pursed his lips and flared his nostrils. The tapping stopped. He dropped the
clipboard from his stomach and held it in his hand while pointing his finger
directly in my face. “Listen, lady, I don’t know who else you worked for, but
we don’t do that Lone Ranger stuff around here. I’m the technical director and
in charge of everyone’s safety, no matter how stupid you want to be. You do
what I say, and I keep your pretty self from getting hurt. Got it?” I’m fairly
certain he growled at me as he spoke.
ran through my head and I’m pretty sure several seconds passed in silence as we
stared each other down. I could feel my hands tightening into fists. I really
did want to punch him. I could see it happening. I’m not strong by any means
but I’m also not a wimp. I wouldn’t have broken anything, but he would have
been bruised and sore. I quickly ran through the possible outcomes of punching
the technical director on my first day of work. It didn’t really seem to be the
him so closely that it might have looked like to an outsider that I was about
to kiss him. I huffed a little and my words were slow and deliberate. “I
understand this is your job and all, but I don’t think you’re listening to me,”
I hissed. I tapped his chest with my finger and he jolted a bit at my touch. He
looked at me like I was speaking some kind of foreign language.
listening? Lady, you need your ears cleaned,” he snarled back. He turned around
to walk away, as if that was the end of our conversation. If he was trying to
piss me off more, it was working.
the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and swinging him around to face me. My
face had flushed and I’d raised my voice to a full yell. “And you need to get
some manners. I’m not showing you how it’s done, okay? If we have a problem I
can go to another show where the technical director doesn’t have a God complex.
I’m not a girl who needs a knight in shining armor.” I was practically snarling
teeth and looked like he might hit me, but I knew that wasn’t really an option
for him. Guys like him didn’t hit women, no matter how mad we made them. He
laughed loudly. “Ha! Good luck finding a Technical Director who will treat you
like the princess you clearly think you are. If I found you locked in a tower,
I promise I’d leave you there.” Mac whipped around again and this time saw
Riley, who had been standing just a few feet away from us the whole time. Riley
was pretending not to be paying too much attention, but you could tell that was
all he had been doing. I couldn’t blame him. Mac glowered at Riley and barked,
“Where’s C.S.? Riley, go find Charles. Now!”
Riley replied with a nervous, almost panicked look on his face as he ran off to
the side and disappeared.