Drama Queens with Love Scenes by Klehr Kevin

Author:Klehr, Kevin [Klehr, Kevin]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Cambridge Press US
Published: 2012-12-19T06:00:00+00:00

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After another uninspired afternoon under Samantha’s direction, Guy escorted me home so we could lick our wounds. Warwick went to Pedro’s, but promised to visit later and run lines. I was desperate for a shower to rinse my clammy self, after sweating all day inside that ludicrous moon suit.

Cassandra Wilson’s slick vocals played on the stereo. The soft patter of bongos and the rich throb of the bass cushioned my stress, making me yearn to share my soul. In time the transition would be complete. Calm would rein after the play’s chaos, and my love and I would stand together, serene in each other’s arms.

I cleansed myself back to normality with each drop from the shower head, reflecting on how water, whether observed or experienced, never failed to console. The silky bath towel massaged my scalp as I inhaled an alluring scent coming from the living room. Guy was enjoying his gift from this morning’s visit, spread out on the sofa like a rag doll.

“I couldn’t wait,” he said. “It’s hot in that tunic and I need to forget about today.”

“There’s a fresh towel in the bathroom. Take a shower, you’ll feel better.”

“Anything to wash away today’s melodrama.”

He took another puff and handed me his joint.

“Don’t forget, tonight is about me and Warwick. I don’t need you hanging around too long after he gets here.”

My friend headed for salvation as I clouded my senses in front of my wardrobe. Should I wear a red tee-shirt or a black short-sleeved top? It was such a dilemma.

As I felt the smoothness of a well-worn pair of jeans swallow my thighs, the music filtered through my thought patterns. I wished that my winged music student would be seduced by this type of jazz, as it normally appealed only to diehard fans. If not, there were Vince Jones and Kurt Elling CD’s on hand to make the transition smoother, or Marlena Shaw to ease him with a camp aesthetic.

I took another puff, aware I was overanalyzing. I considered how Ipan could’ve been such a beautifully vulnerable character, instead of his portrayal was being marred by a confused director. Perhaps I was being paranoid but whenever anyone was hitting their stride, Samantha would direct them off course. Pedro seemed to do whatever he wanted with minimal direction. His portrayal of the open-minded love interest was as believable as a naive pool cleaner in a porn flick.

The shower was running, and I knew Guy was rebooting his soul. As I drifted in front of my mirror, I stood upright as Ipan should, as suggested by the text. He was meant to be a proud man, full of wisdom and old-fashioned values. A kind-hearted chap, out to do the right thing. Not a pantomime fool.

Guy peeked into the bedroom. He mouthed the words “he’s here” and ruffled his wings in slow motion. I passed the joint back to my friend so it could be offered to my visitor. I was already dressed, so all I needed to do was make my way to the living room.

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