The Lion Tamer

Chapter III

in which Emil gets involved

Emil does get involved after that. He throws open the doors of the auditorium and marches in with a 'C'mon, fuckers, let's get down to business!', and I need to duck backstage before I burst out laughing. I still peer out from behind the curtain to see what he's getting up to.

Richard hops off the stage to meet him halfway.

'What're you doing here?'

'Getting involved. I thought you needed a hand.'

Richard glances back at us, and Sophie steps forward.

'Do you have experience with theatre?'

'There's a first time for everything, no?' He's taken up a battle stance again; he towers over Sophie with his hands on his hips, trying to seem bigger, even though he already looks like a scarecrow next to her.

'Okay, but like—What skills do you have?' Anisha asks.

''Cause beating up people isn't a skill, mate,' Jack adds.

Emil glances around, as if in thought. His eyes settle on me behind the curtain, and I suddenly realize he's looking for help. But honestly, how should I know what skills he has?

'But it proves he's strong,' I say. All heads turn to me, and it sends an uncomfortable wave of heat through my spine. What am I doing, defending Emil Basinsky?

'Yeah, that it does,' he agrees smugly. 'I'm probably stronger than all of you.'

'Are you okay with this, Remus?' Richard asks. Stepping close to me, he lowers his voice. 'It should be your call, mate, you're the one most affected.'

Honestly, how can anyone not love Richard? Basinsky should watch out because at this rate he'll have a competitor really fast. In any case, I clear my dry throat.

'We do need a hand, you know that,' I say. Maybe I can send him on the snack rounds, while I do something actually useful, like learning the steps to the dances or watching Anisha's lighting tricks. 'He'll do for now.'

'See? I'm a catch.' He grins that self-satisfied grin of his. He looks like a wolf, white canine teeth flashing, nothing genuine about it, and I suddenly remember how his face smoothed out with a smile that was actually sincere. The guy is all smokes and mirrors, he'll be perfect in a theatre.

'Alright then.' Richard says, straightening up. 'Thanks for helping out, mate.'

It's like second nature by now, the blush, the nervous flutter of his eyelashes as he tugs on his belt, and I suppress a grin. So predictable.

'What should I do?'

'I need someone to carry the props from the storage for rehearsal,' Anisha says. 'We have that armchair, you know the big one, we need at least two people for that, come on, Basinsky, chop-chop!'

'Yeah... Okay,' he mumbles. He disappears behind Anisha backstage, while Richard and Sophie go back to singing a duet. They look sickeningly sweet together, Richard tall and dashing next to such a small, fragile girl. It sort of makes me doubt whether I could be a leading man, because—muscles aside—I'm a short Black guy, and the West End doesn't favor us for some reason, but there's no place for doubts if I ever want to make it big. Instead, I help Emil load out the props, then load them back again, because Anisha seems to have been possessed by the devil, ordering us around like we're slaves. I guess she just wants to make Emil taste his own medicine, but why do I have to suffer too? I'm the good guy here!

'Okay, snack break!' Jack announces, staring at me expectantly, but I have nothing at hand.

'What if we all go out and get snacks together?' I'm sweating, trying to catch my breath, and the last thing I want is to run out to get snacks alone, while a pack of hungry thespians waits for me.