General Disclaimer - This story includes: two women attempting to fall in love and failing miserably at times, bad language, uber characters, Shakespeare, Liza Minelli look-alikes, theatre myths, mentions of the Scottish Play, Jane Austen, characters with similarities to those owned by RenPic/Universal, heady seductions, big blue eyes, abdominal muscles, bad jokes, faulty locks and dirty tricks.

The uber copyright is mine, and Shakespeare is in the public domain, but essentially I'm borrowing archetypes from Xena: Warrior Princess and make no money from writing this story.

Borrowing something from one of my favourite authors, Nicola Griffith... Things expressed by my characters are their opinions, not necessarily mine. To automatically attribute anything written in a story directly back to the author is what Griffith refers to as "denial of the writer's imagination." The words might be mine, or they might belong to someone I have seen or heard in my 24 years of life. I probably just made it up. It's fiction.

Dedicated to all the people out there who believe, as I do, in the amateur nature of uber fan fiction.

Much Ado About Uber

By Poto

ACT ONE | ACT TWO | ACT THREE | ACT FOUR | ACT FIVE

Act I.i

The door opened a crack and humour filled blue eyes peeked through the gap. The sound of a loud voice arguing on the phone had drawn her, creeping up the backstage stairs to the door of her own office. Inside, a tall wiry man, growing steadily red in the face, barked at his current nemesis at the other end of the line.

"I don't need this shit, I really don't. I'm dealing with lighting guys who've obviously never seen a board before in their lives! Not to mention a casting agent who's obviously never got over Judy Garland's death because there's some goddamn Liza Minelli lookalike out there calling for bottled water every two seconds and screeching her way through every speech..."

The door squeaked and Ted whirled around in irritation, spotting his stealthy observer who was forced to give herself up and enter the room, chuckling softly to herself. He continued his wailing down the phone.

"No I know they aren't your people, that's what I'm talking about! Why isn't your lighting crew here? They'd know how to deal with this crap.... no, Karl, don't try to calm me down. I know I can handle it, but it would take a lot of stress off me to be able to deal with people I don't have to watch every five minutes. We can't afford to blow this. Richard wants this under control by tomorrow."

Jennifer scowled, all the humour suddenly draining from the situation. She waved her hand to get Ted's attention. Angrily, he shoved his hand over the receiver and glared.

"That crew isn't here yet?" She growled, motioning towards the phone. "Is that Karl?"

Ted nodded his head in affirmation. She could hear the blustering of excuses from the other end of the line from across the room.

"You want me to deal with him?"

Ted threw her a grateful look, and went back to his call.

"No, Karl, you promised me they'd be here this week, not next week! I can't do this with little leaguers, it's just not going to work. It's bad enough I have to deal with Miss 'Puttin on the Ritz' out there, I want to know that when I say lights the damn spot is going to be pointing at the stage not at the cute blonde in the third row!" He continued, stubbornly. "Look, I'm going to hand you over to Jen. You can sort out this mess with her. Yeah, that's right."

Handing over the phone, Ted sighed in relief. Taking a deep breath Jen steadied herself, and took the receiver, placing it against her ear. "Karl? Hello, It's Jennifer Hilton here. Is there a problem?"

A hail of excuses began again, and Jen rolled her eyes. "Hang on Karl. Are they going to be here or not? Not tomorrow, today, or we find another staff contractor, permanently."

Her face grew hard. "Can I do that? Sure, I can do pretty much anything I want with your contract. Including tearing it up. Richard will follow any recommendation I give him."

A small knock on the door announced a visitor. Ted turned to answer it.

"Marie. Looking glum there, what's happened now?" A small dark haired woman, dressed in a tight, short black skirt and chambray shirt, tottered on impractical heels into the small office. Her face was heavily made up, her lashes long and disciplined.

Jen noticed the look on the small woman's face and frowned even deeper. "Hang on Karl, looks like we've got more problems." She interrupted the phone conversation and placed a hand over the receiver. "What's wrong?"

"Tina just quit." Marie sighed melodramatically.

"Tina?" Jen queried.

Ted's face lit up. "The 'over the rainbow' princess? Thank Christ! That's the first good news I've heard all day."

"I thought the dreadful noise had suddenly stopped." Jen added, returning her attention to the phone conversation.

Marie rolled her eyes and glared at Ted. "Sorry to ruin your mood, but this is a bad thing. Obviously we're going to have to replace her. That means auditions, money..."

Jen's other conversation droned on. "Karl, Your excuses are for shit. No, I said it's not negotiable, just send them down here, I'll tell them where to start. Yes, OK, we'll talk terms later. I'll have to speak to Richard. Bye." The receiver was slammed down in frustration. "Goddamn Karl! He says he thought rehearsals started next week so he double booked his crew. Meanwhile we've got kiddie theatre people out there setting up the boards. Argghhh! Ted tell me why I bother?"

Jennifer stood, and ran an anxious hand through her long dark ponytail. The heat in the tiny office was stifling, sweat beads formed on her forehead. She swiped a dusty hand across her face, leaving a streak of dirt from the lighting ladder to highlight her already grimy features. Her black overalls were filthy.

Ted stared at her wryly. "Because you love it?"

"No, I used to love it, when I was ten. Then when I was a teenager I stupidly thought it was the only thing I knew how to do. Now it's a job, where I have to deal with the same stupid people day in day out. The projects change, but the assholes stay the same." She sighed, picking up her black marker and moving to a huge white board. Her things to do list was growing rapidly, the tasks shoved under each department growing longer and longer.

She looked at Ted wearily. "Hey, you looking for a promotion?"

He smiled. "Sure, what are you offering?"

"How about Stage Manager?"

"You could find us a new leading actress." Marie butted in, throwing a bunch of files down on the wooden desk. "These are the numbers for the agencies. I want you to call every one of them and tell them to have people here by 2pm tomorrow."

"Do I look like a casting agent? I thought that was your job." Ted protested, wearily.

Jen held up her hands. "Hang on a second, you can't just flounce in here and order my assistant to do your dirty work. Who do you think you are?"

"This isn't coming from me, it's from Richard. I don't have an assistant, so for the moment I'm borrowing yours." Marie stated, matter of factly. Jen struggled to keep her temper from boiling over.

Ted took the files, flicked through them briefly, and nodded. "Fine. I'll have it done in an hour."

"The sooner the better. Thanks Ted." Turning on her heels, she stalked out the door, leaving Jen still swallowing back retorts.

Only after she'd left did Jen trust herself to open her mouth. "If I last the rest of the week without throttling her, I'll be amazed."

"She's just trying to impress you. She wants you to think she's taking the whole thing as seriously as you are."

"Ted, it's Much Ado about Nothing, it's not exactly complicated Shakespeare going down out there."

"We're three days into rehearsals, Jen. Lighten up! I can deal with a few phone calls."

Jen flopped down on a rickety armchair, one of only three pieces of furniture in the room along with her desk chair and a huge wooden desk with a cast iron frame.

"So. How is your life outside of this damn job, Teddy boy?"

"Oh, just great thanks," he replied dryly. "Of course if I have to fill out one more tax return in my life I'm going to walk into the tax department building with a dagger and repeatedly stab the first clerk I see, just to shock them into recognising their own stupidity."

"Oh, how very Macbeth of you." She ignored his look of mock horror and continued. "This production has already survived Tina, I don't think anything more that I say is going to affect our luck." She played with the threads of the armchair upholstery. "I wonder why she quit?"

Ted rolled his eyes. "Why look a gift horse in the mouth?" He quipped. "She was just high maintenance. I'm glad she's gone. I don't care how much money it costs the production."

The door opened again suddenly, and Jen fixed a steely gaze on Marie, as she wandered in without knocking.

"Oh Jen, I forgot to tell you something. Richard wants to know if you wouldn't mind sitting in on the auditions tomorrow. He wants to make sure everyone is happy with the choice so that we're positive we get the right one this time." She handed her a handwritten note from the director.

"Damn it, he knows I have fifty million things to do already."

"Well, we all have to work with whoever it is, don't you want a say in who it is? Stage Manager's don't usually get such an opportunity."

"Great Ted. We're getting advice from someone who dresses like she's never set foot in a theatre."

One withering glance met another.

"Maybe he thinks you have an eye for talent?" Ted suggested unhelpfully.

Marie started backing out the door as quickly as her outfit would allow. "Just be there, Jen. What makes you think it's necessary to question every decision made around here?"

"If I didn't, who would?" Her saccharine smile earned her a disdainful glare before the casting agent left the room.

"Jen, what...?" Ted stared suspiciously at the sudden gleeful look on the stage manager's face. She pressed a finger to her lips and he fell silent. They listened to the retreating footsteps. Jen jumped up suddenly and peeked out the doorway, watching with undisguised pleasure as the woman struggled down the small staircase in her clingy skirt.

"You know Ted, it's the little things in life that give me the most pleasure."

"You're a child, you know that? Why'd you let her get to you like that? What did she do to you anyway?" He admonished. She shrugged it off with an 'I-don't-care' smile.

"You won't answer me?"

"I don't have one. She just bugs me. Maybe it's the way she fawns all over Richard."

"Isn't he gay?"

"Nope. I think if he was it'd be the men in the cast who are hopeless."

"Yeah, right. Chocolate bar?" He fished out a milky bar, displaying it proudly in his hand. "Pre-melted?"

"Ugggh."

"Suit yourself." He took a bite, chewed, and grimaced. "Good choice." Ted stretched out, succumbing to a ferocious yawn.

Jen glanced at the wall clock. "It's late Teddy, You better get onto that stuff for Marie."

"Oh, so now you're on her side? Don't start sounding like her. You know, you should really let other people make the decisions around here Jennifer." His cruel, wickedly accurate imitation earned an appreciative chuckle from the dark haired woman lounging beside him.

"GO! And then when you're finished that get home to your wife and kids."

"Funny." He scooped up a loaded backpack from the corner of the office. "You know why I don't have a girlfriend Jen? Because I'm waiting for you to grow a personality."

"Others have done that. I think they died waiting. Besides, you don't have the right equipment, boy-o."

He shrugged. "Well then, it looks like we're at an impasse. Again."

His eyes met hers, almost painfully. She shuddered, feeling the familiar borders of their friendship straining at the sides yet again. He looked down at his shoes. Jen averted her eyes, uncomfortable for both of them.

"Anyway, I meant to tell you, I'm not going to be very useful to you tomorrow. I've got those budget reports to write."

"Fuck!" Jen stared up at her overloaded whiteboard. "Between all of this crap, and that stupid audition, I'm never going to get through everything."

"So. Go find someone else to kick around for a day. Or follow in Marie's footsteps, go steal someone else's assistant."

Jen grimaced and threw up her hands in mock helplessness. "But no one else is quite so good at being kicked around as you are."

He couldn't help but laugh. "That was easily the weirdest compliment I've ever received."

"Yeah well, it is me we're talking about here."

They both grunted. Ted moved towards the door.

"I'm sure you'll deal with it. You always do." He paused, waiting, but this time she refused to meet his gaze, pretending to be fascinated with some threading upholstery on the faded chair. He sighed. "Good night Jen."

"See you Teddy."

Act I.ii

"I like the petite blonde girl, she had a lot of energy." Marie looked at Richard, who just nodded in acknowledgement.

Jen snorted derisively. "Which blonde was that? I saw eight of them." She shuffled through a pile of resumes, picking out two or three pictures.

"The one doing the speech from Midsummer." Marie replied, voice taut with forced patience.

The more flustered Marie got, the more contented Jen became. She had no idea why Marie was so much fun to torture. Maybe it was the skin-tight brown skirt, crisp white shirt and high heels. Who the fuck wore heels into a theatre? Every time the woman moved, a thin, pointed stiletto heel got stuck in the gaps in the wooden floorboards.

Richard, the director, seemed oblivious to the tension. "Bring her back on, see how she goes with an unseen passage. Jen, you wanna read with her, give her something to play off?"

"Sure, better than sitting down here all day."

Richard grabbed the pages of resume and read off the name. "Miss Lauren Newman? Could you come back out here please?" he called out, bass voice echoing around the crowded theatre. The small blonde woman strode confidently from the wings, peering out from the centre of the stage into the rows of seats.

"Yes?" Her rich voice was a surprise in comparison to her diminutive stature. Jen immediately connected the face with a resume. She looked up at Marie, admitting grudgingly with a grunt that she agreed with the choice. A victorious flash crossed the woman's features. Jen ignored her.

Richard stood, moved out into the aisle and approached the stage. "We'd like you to try a reading with Jennifer here. Ordinarily we'd take more time with our decision but we're on a schedule and we really need to get this wrapped up this afternoon. Is that all right with you?"

"Of course, I understand. From the script?" She pointed to the copies of Much Ado scattered around the front of the stage. She picked one up and thumbed through it, obviously familiar with the text.

"That's right. Take it from Act 2, Scene 1. Let's try out our wits shall we? Go from line 120, 'Will you not tell me who told you so?'"

"OK, got it." She looked up at Jen who had just leapt up onto the stage. "Ready, Jennifer?

"Jen." She corrected, giving the woman a smile. Grabbing a script, she flipped quickly through the pages. See Marie, I can be civil when I want to be! "Fire away."

The small woman scanned the page quickly, recognising the passage. She took a deep breath, turned away. When she turned back again she was wearing a different face, less businesslike, more coquettish. Inspired by the younger woman's lead, Jen puffed out her chest, determined not to hinder the woman's reading by being too casual.

"Are we set?" Richard called out from the tenth row. Both women nodded.

The young woman drew breath, a playful smile covering her features. "Will you not tell me who told you so?"

Jen put on her best look of ignorance. "No, you shall pardon me."

"Nor will you not tell me who you are?" The light voice skipped quickly over the words without a hint of hesitation. Jen realised that the woman barely needed to look at the lines on the page. a quick glance over at Richard told her he agreed with her assessment. She was suddenly glad he seemed impressed.

"Not now."

"That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit out of the 'Hundred Merry Tales'. Well, this was Signor Benedick that said so."

Lauren reached up, absentmindedly pulling strands of thick blonde hair behind her ears that were creeping across her face. The gesture distracted Jen momentarily, and she lost her place on the page. "Err...oh...what's he?"

"I am sure..." Lauren drawled merrily, looking up into Jen's eyes "that you know him well enough."

"Not I, believe me."

"Did he never make you laugh?"

"I pray you, what is he?"

Beatrice, through the bright green eyes of the young actress, thought about this with studied, yet comical, intensity. "Why, he is the Prince's jester, a very dull fool, only his gift is in devising impossible slanders. None but the libertines delight in him, and the commendation is not in his wit but in his villainy, for he both pleases men and angers them, and then they laugh at him and beat him." The actress's willowy form pranced lightly around her dark haired Benedick. "I am sure he is in the fleet - I would he had boarded me."

Chuckles of laughter emanated from the few crew in the audience watching the performance, and Jen stared in open admiration. Lauren looked up and caught the stare, smiling carefully in return. Jen came to her senses with a start and turned away, struggling not to let a blush sneak onto her stern features.

"When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say."

"Do. He'll but break a comparison or two on me, which peradventure, not marked or not laughed at, strikes him into melancholy - and then there's the partridge wing saved, for the fool will eat no supper that night."

A lascivious grin split the blonde's features, and Jen couldn't hold back her laughter. Acknowledging the skill of her reading partner with a nod of her head, she dropped out of character and turned to face the director.

"I think you need someone better up here Dick, I can't look in her eyes and keep a straight face."

"I think that's enough for now anyway. Miss Newman." He turned back to Marie. "I think she'll be perfect. Pick an understudy from the best of the remaining group and give both their names and contact details to Jen and Harry to schedule rehearsal times."

Jen glanced in Laurie's direction, noting the small woman still hopping nervously from foot to foot. "Relax," she said, offering a hand in congratulations. "That's Dick's way of saying you're hired."

A look of relief flushed the blonde woman's cheeks as she took Jen's hand and shook it.

She seems so young! Jen tried to remember what age had been written on the resume, but she couldn't. Laurie suddenly seemed much younger than just moments before, like the affected confidence had somehow melted away into giddiness.

Jen took a lingering look at the slim form, golden hair and finely chiseled features. "Well, let's get on with the paperwork shall we? Standard procedure, run down to Marie there and collect some forms to fill out. You can do that while you're sitting around to see if Richard needs you for the read-throughs."

They turned around, spotting another figure emerging through the curtains. "Clear the stage people! I want the first scene ready in five minutes! We don't have all day!" Harry, the big booming rehearsal manager, strode onto the stage. His easy grin immediately put the young woman at ease. "Welcome aboard. You don't happen to know the words to 'New York New York' do you?"

Jen doubled over, chuckling until her sides ached with laughter. Lauren stood and stared, looking confused.

Harry took pity on her. "Sorry, our recently departed Beatrice bore an uncanny resemblance to Liza Minelli."

"Sorry, no Liza, but I do an excellent 'There's no place like home' speech. Just find me a dog."

"Well, Jake's Labrador is tied up by the stage door, will he do?" Harry laughed, watching Jen's face turning pale.

"Stop...I can't breathe..." She shuddered, still convulsing with chuckles. Harry slapped her hard on the back and her chuckles degenerated into a coughing fit.

"Are you all right?' Laurie giggled, thinking she ought to at least pretend she wasn't laughing.

Throwing her hands up in disgust, Jen swiped a folder at the rehearsal manager. His eyes glittered with humour, not looking at all chastised. Lauren just blinked in amusement.

"This is going to be a very long six weeks." Jen retorted, feigning seriousness.

Harry snorted, tapping Lauren on the shoulder. "Don't mind her, her nickname around here is the 'Sullen Sexpot'."

"It's what?" Jen snapped, horrified.

Lauren collapsed into giggles again. "Her?"

Harry nodded, feigning innocence. The rest of the crew milled around, openly staring.

Jen snorted. "Oh man, you are seriously going to die for that one Harry."

The manager buffed his nails on the front of his shirt, smiling proudly.

A clamour erupted behind the curtain as Richard burst onto the stage. "I want scene one up now Harry! Jen, you don't have to stick around if you don't want to. Where's Ted? I'm not used to seeing you without him snapping at your heels."

"Actually Dick, I wanted to talk to you about Ted having to keep doing those damned budget reports. Don't we have an Accountant to do that?"

The director waved her off. "It'll have to be later Jen. Thanks for helping out. I'll catch up with you before I leave tonight."

The tall woman frowned at his back. "Yeah sure Dick, whatever." She glanced around the stage, monitoring the gaggle of people moving to and fro.

A light touch rested on her arm. "Are you OK?"

She jumped slightly, having almost forgotten Lauren was there. "Yeah sure, I'm fine. Listen, could you do me a favour? Run that paperwork up to my office when this madness is done? Just ask Marie, she'll let you know where it is."

Lauren nodded. "I can do that. I guess I'll see you later."

"Yeah. Congratulations Lauren, I'm sure you'll be great."

"Thanks. And Jen?"

"Hmm?"

"Call me Laurie."

Jen watched as the young woman moved away, jumping down off the stage and striding up the aisle. There was a slight swagger to her walk, like an athlete. Her legs and arms betrayed fitness, rather than the skinny, fleshless look she was used to seeing with actresses.

Harry peeked over her shoulder, following her eyeline down to the seats below. "She's a pretty young thing, isn't she?"

Jen snapped out of her reverie. "What? Oh, yeah I guess so, I hadn't noticed."

"Yes you did." He smiled, tapping her playfully on the shoulder.

She shrugged, caught. "Well, hey, who wouldn't notice?"

"Exactly." He replied, smile broadening.

"Don't you have work to do?" She teased. He snapped her a playful salute and wandered off, dragging one of the stage hands with him who was staring inexplicably out into the rows of seats.

Jen watched them go, laughing softly to herself. She turned back to where Marie and the young actress were conferring. They had moved away, heading towards the office.

As her eyes followed the two women out, her mind shifted back to the job at hand. She thought about Ted and a troubled frown settled over her forehead. Pushing her shoulders back and ignoring calls for her presence wafting out from behind the second curtain, she determined to find Ted and take some of the budget reports off his hands.

Act I.iii

A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in." Jen called out, eyes shifting quickly across columns of incomprehensible numbers. She lifted her head as the door creaked open, rubbing tired eyes with her fingers.

"Is it OK if I come in? Are you busy?" A soft voice asked from the doorway.

"Yeah sure, come on in." Jen waved the blonde haired actress into the office.

"I just wanted to bring this paperwork up. Marie said she thought you'd rather see me than her, whatever that meant." She sidled into the office, setting the pile of papers and manila folder on the edge of the desk. Jen snapped up the forms, took a cursory look through to make sure all the signatures were there, and placed the pile in her inbox.

"It means she's finally wising up." Jen smiled, waving a hand towards the empty seat. "Take a load off."

"Thanks. And thanks for your great job at the reading. I was pretty damned nervous."

Jen gave her a smile that said, don't mention it.

The small woman sat, resting one hand in her lap, and idly scratching her nose with the other. "I should probably thank you for the warm welcome I've been getting around here today too."

Jen looked up. "What do you mean?"

"I've been getting 'Well, Jen likes you, you must be all right' comments all over the place! It's been really funny actually."

Shit! Jen kicked herself inwardly. I haven't really been talking about her that much have I?

"I have no idea what that's about, but you're welcome!" She faked ignorance.

"So... what's my routine, boss?"

Jen was lost in her own thoughts. "Routine?"

"Yeah, you know, when do I show up? When can I sleep in? That kind of thing." Her eyes stared straight at the stage manager.

"8.30am read throughs for the next week." She watched Laurie stifle a groan. "Not a morning person huh?"

Laurie shook her head. "I suffer pretty heavily from hibernating bear syndrome."

"So waking you up in the morning is a dangerous sport huh?"

Laurie smiled. "Something like that."

"Well, coffee is supplied, but wear lots of heavy clothes, this place feels a lot like a fridge that early in the morning." she rambled, searching in her pile of papers for the rehearsal schedule she and Harry had completed not two hours before. Finally the papers appeared and she handed a copy over.

Laurie stared at them, a glum look spreading over her features. "Can you tell me something upbeat? To get me excited?" She asked hopefully, trying not to think of the early mornings, late nights, and hours of waiting around doing nothing in between that she had ahead.

Jen scratched her chin, a sardonic grin stretching across her face. "Well, Ted tells really bad jokes, and Richard sometimes develops crushes on his leading ladies..."

"You have a really twisted definition of the word 'positive', you know that?"

Jen cackled. "OK OK, here's one that will cheer you up. The last three of Richard's productions have been sell out phenomenons and people lined up to give the casts more work." She watched as Laurie's frown lifted into a hopeful glance. "And the coffee really is quite good in the mornings."

Smiling, Laurie stood up, clutching the rehearsal schedule to her breast. "Well, I shall take this home and commit it to memory so that I may never be late." She declared melodramatically.

Jen stood up too, walking around to the other side of the desk. "I've always found that sticking it on the fridge with a magnet works too."

Laurie poked her tongue out. "Philistine."

"Try memorising your lines instead."

"Oh I already did that. In high school we did this as the school play, only I was too young to score any of the major parts. But I had this stupid fantasy that one of the leads would get sick at the last minute and I'd be there as the only person who knew the lines, so I could fill in. I memorised the whole damned thing, even the male parts."

"And did they ever get sick?"

Laurie's face sank in mock desolation. "No, inconsiderate bastards. Well, actually one did. He was playing one of the servants at the masquerade party. I think I got two lines. It was my crowning achievement." She sighed, and her serious face collapsed into mirth.

"I bet you would have been fabulous. You were great out there today. Fantastic timing, even with me screwing you up."

"Oh you didn't do too badly."

Silence overtook them, and Laurie turned around to leave. "Well, thanks again, it'll be fun working with you, I'm sure."

"Likewise. If you have any problems, let me or Ted know, we'll take care of it."

"Thanks, I'll do that." She smiled, opening the office door. Jen followed her out.

"See you tomorrow."

A quick wave, and Laurie disappeared down the stairs and out through the inner curtain.

When she was safe in the wings out of sight, Laurie stood, cocking her head confusedly to one side. Indulging herself a curious smile, she pondered the conversation. She wandered through the theatre, staring at the poster covered walls, screaming out colourful marketing ploys for every half-assed production ever mounted in that playhouse.

She started to whistle, earning a smile from the night watchman as she exited through the double front doors of the theatre onto the empty city street.

Half skipping, she headed home, her head full of details, body racing with adrenaline and happiness.

Act I.iv

Jen scanned the theatre from her place high up in the wings, perched precariously on the ladder that led to the lighting catwalk above. Karl's lighting team had finally showed up, taken one look at the lighting switchboards and insisted everything be done from scratch, which had suited her fine. She could still hear the screaming in the back of her mind that had come from Richard's office when she'd finally informed him about the crew holdup. Funnily enough, Karl's crew had appeared within the hour. least, she told herself, she had someone she could supervise now, no matter how much bullshit it had taken to get them there. She gave directions, they were followed. Now she could go back to the business of setting up the different designers to do their thing, and Richard could get on with rehearsals, only five days behind schedule.

Two days after the last of the cast had been hired, Laurie included, the first read through was finally in progress. Looking around her, Jen was still amazed at how interesting it was to see the different elements of the theatre come together. There was an eerie synchronicity about things. Chain reactions blossomed everywhere, and lapses in one part of the system meant consequences somewhere else. She glanced down at her notepad, gloriously filled with jobs already completed. She knew her role, to oil the machinery that was the crew until it gleamed and ran perfectly over the cogwheels set up by the designers. Richard's job was to use what he had, his own talent and the talent of his cast and crew, to make it all flow smoothly together.

She took a deep stress-free breath. My first in over a week, she thought grimly.

"Jen!" A harsh whisper from above interrupted her thoughts. She spotted Ted on another ladder, just a little higher up. Scrambling quietly upwards she joined him at his sitting level.

"Ted? What on Earth are you doing up here?"

"I was wondering how much shit I'd get into if I did a Tarzan swing across the stage using the lights extension cord!" He hissed back.

"Apart from me tearing you limb from limb, I think the cast might take exception to the interruption. Not to mention the g-string."

Ted shuddered in horror at the thought, but gave her his big lop-sided grin. "But they're all so quiet! What the hell is going on down there? This is supposed to be a comedy!" The lanky man crawled across an adjoining ladder until he was face to face with Jen, peering through the same little gap in the curtain she had just discovered.

"That's right, you've never worked with Richard before, have you?" Jen asked.

Ted shook his head. She blew strands of hair out of her face that had escaped from her ponytail. Staring down through curtain, she caught sight of the now familiar red-gold hair.

Continuing as if she hadn't seen anything, she turned around again. "He takes them through a whole series of trust exercises first, you know, the basic standing around in a circle and falling to see if everyone will catch you stuff. Then they do voice coaching, throwing your voice to the back of the theatre, studying each other's movements, group singing - off key more often that not - and weird meditation postures where they massage each other's shoulders..."

"I'm in the wrong part of this profession." Teddy quipped, peering down with envy as the cast indulged in group backrubbing.

"I think Dick just does this part to calm his own nerves." Jen replied. "The ritual makes him really feel that the organisational part is under control, and that he can start concentrating on the creative side of everything."

Ted settled into a comfortable spot on his ladder, and leant his head against a railing. "Have you ever thought about performing?"

Jen grunted in disgust. "Not since a disastrous turn as Liesel in The Sound of Music. I think I was sixteen. Amateur theatre. We all had to take turns doing everything. I just wanted to work the lights and stuff, but somebody found out I could sing, and they made me do that bloody scene where she dances around with Rolf singing 'I am sixteen, going on seventeen...' pouncing and being thrown about the stage by some huge klutz with a fake moustache." She grimaced at the memory, watching the amusement grow on Ted's face. "I don't care what that sick little mind of yours is thinking Ted, it was not a pretty sight. And no, there are no pictures!" Ted gaped at her, chuckling.

She returned her gaze through the curtains, looking down once more upon the group gathered at the front of the stage. Dick stood in front of them, waving his arms wildly and gesturing to his script. From where she was she could only vaguely make out what he was saying. Something about a spiritual awareness of space...

"But there's a pretty sight down there, that's for sure." Ted whistled appreciatively.

Jen snapped out of her thoughts, slapping him hard on the shoulder. "I don't even have to look and I know you're talking about Laurie."

"Oh, so it's Laurie now is it? I thought her name was Lauren."

"Lauren Sharon Newman. Aged twenty-six. Specialises in classical Greek theatre and mime, but from her reading the other day it seems she's no stranger to Shakespeare." She got a brief flashback of Laurie telling her about her high school play, and smiled. "Anything more than that and you'll have to steal her resume." She turned and looked at Ted, who was staring, semi-transfixed, through the curtain.

A stab of emotion hit her suspiciously in the chest. Confused, she looked away, concentrating her view on the group of players all lining up, ready to start shouting and proving to Dick that they could convince an audience at the back of the theatre just as well as those sitting at the front of the house.

Jen found herself needing to chat to fill in the void of suddenly thick silence, to talk to cover her own confusion. "I think I actually saw her last year, she played some Greek tragedy, the sister in Antigone I think, down at the Theatre Royal, but I didn't recognise her at first without all the glycerin induced tears rolling down her face."

"She's certainly beautiful, don't you think?"

"I won't argue with that. But you know it's not polite for stage crew to ogle the actresses?"

"I'm not ogling!" He protested sharply, bemused. "I'm admiring, and it's just this once. Besides, knowing my luck she's probably just like you."

"What do you mean, just like me?"

"You know, ipso facto, runs on the other side of the tracks, Ellen-watcher, owns way too many Melissa Etheridge CD's for her own good..."

"You can stop now!" Jen laughed in spite of herself. "I could fill in the word you're looking for, but I don't want to insult your intelligence."

Ted shrugged, and began to climb his way back down the ladder, his shoulders set, oozing tension. Without looking at her, she noticed.

Partway down the ladder, however, he did look up. A carefully measured expression sat so uneasily on his features that Jen could barely stand to look at him.

"Hey, you want some coffee?" He offered.

She took his peace offering gratefully. "Yeah Ted, that'd be great."

They nodded to each other, a kind of silent recognition.

Act I.v

"Feel the sound as it comes out from the back of your throat. I want even the little whispered conversations and innuendo to ring out in the ears of the people in the back row without any loss to their meaning because people feel the need to yell."

Laurie felt a tingle in the back of her throat as her voice began to strain. She felt she should probably stop, but one glance at Dick told her that the fact that she didn't want to damage her voice by doing his little projection exercises was not what the director wanted to hear right at that moment. She compromised by excusing herself to grab a glass of water.

As she reached for the bottle, her eyes focussed on Dick and the remainder of his coaching session. The man was fascinating, if a little exuberant in his teaching methods. She hadn't realised though that when she signed up for the play that she signed for drama classes as well.

"He does tend to go overboard a little, doesn't he?" A light voice came from behind, startling her. She spun around into black overalls. Tilting her head up she spotted their owner.

"I was just thinking that. He's different. I'd be mad if I didn't try to learn a lot from him." Laurie replied, going for the same light tone that Jen had chosen.

"Are you feeling 'a pure sense of trust' for your fellow cast members yet?" Jen delivered a devastatingly accurate mimicry of Richard.

Laurie grimaced. "I've never been a huge fan of that one." She admitted.

Jen nodded. "I'm surprised he doesn't have the crew out doing that exercise as well. After all, it takes quite a bit of trust to know that someone with you is going to rig a rope steady enough for you to swing around on and not worry about being splattered to the floor when the damn thing comes crashing down."

Laurie looked up suspiciously. "When the thing comes crashing down? Not if?" Jen shrugged mischievously. "Fabulous. Did I forget to mention I suffer from mild paranoia? I'm going to be thinking about that all the time now."

"Don't worry. It's my job to make sure all the lights don't fall on you. I'll be extra careful." Her luminous blue eyes stared down into Laurie's own green ones, and the small woman responded, throwing Jen an intrigued glance.

Behind them Richard cleared his throat noisily. "Will you be joining us again, Miss Newman?"

"Of course, sorry." Laurie fumbled, throwing Jen an apologetic look and setting the bottle back down on the trestle table. "Duty calls."

Jen walked off quickly behind the curtain. She looked back and saw Laurie turn behind and glance at the space they'd just vacated. it was difficult to read her expression.

Ted walked up to where she stood and handed her a mug of steaming coffee. She took a distracted sip, cursing as the scalding sensation hit the roof of her mouth, the liquid burning her tongue.

"Too hot?" Teddy asked, innocently.

Jen managed a weak nod in return. She had a sneaking feeling that Ted wasn't just talking about the coffee.

With an apologetic nod her assistant went about his chores, picking up a list off a nearby desk of the tasks he'd been assigned by the various designers and crew. As she watched him go she recalled the feeling that had cut her so much just before, as Ted had stared at the new arrival. She felt it again, almost painfully, as she caught Ted throwing a last, covetous glance through the curtains down at her. She watched him glaring in annoyance at the golden haired figure gesturing on the stage.

I know you were just kidding Teddy boy, and I know you had plans for you and me that I can never go along with, but I damn well hope you're right about her.

Jen knew she had to concentrate, get back to work. Struggling desperately against the impulse, she gave in and took a long final look at the blonde woman herself. Ted's words, ringing with an undercurrent of bitterness, echoed in her ears.

Maybe she could be just like me.

Act I.vi

Two days later, the full walk through had begun. Laurie cocked her ears and listened for the cues, thinking out her own movements for the lines to come. Her voice travelled out and filled the theatre. She watched Dick as he nodded in approval at the carriage of her voice.

Hey, I might be small, but I've never been accused of being quiet. She giggled softly to herself.

A small audience had gathered at the side of the stage, and Laurie recognised a few of the people, mostly crew. A pair of dark blue overalls stood out from the rest as Jen stood, arms folded, appraising the actors.

Lauren looked over for a while, then panicked a little before launching into her next speech, only just catching the cue.

He set up his bills here in Messina and challenged Cupid at the flight, and my uncle's fool reading the challenge subscribed for Cupid...

"Laurie! Earth to Laurie! You sound like you're sleepwalking there woman! You were fine a second ago. Lets perk it up a bit, Beatrice is supposed to be feisty, remember?"

Laurie grinned naughtily, throwing a hand on her hip. "You want feisty? I can do that."

Richard groaned, throwing her a look of mock horror. "Oh no, what have I done?"

Laurie glanced over at the stage crew again. Most of them were watching, grins on their faces. She caught Jen's eye and gave her a small, shaky smile. The tall woman returned the gesture with a wink.

The cast launched into the scene again. Dick nodded in enthusiasm at the second reading and gestured to the others to continue. She shook her head irritably when her part had finished and tried to discipline her thoughts.

An electrical crack, then a low hum as the lights slowly faded out, brought the reading to a screeching halt.

"Jen? What the fuck is going on here??" Richard wailed to a darkened theatre.

Jen came to life immediately, rushing up the aisle to check on the lighting box upstairs. When she made it to the top she conferred quickly with the technicians, and the loudspeaker crackled to life. "Sorry Dick, sorry everyone, we had to check the surge protection switches, they're popping all the time."

Dick took a deep, patient breath. "How long?"

"Ten minutes, max. Keep your shirt on Dick, they're doing the best they can."

Laurie listened to the voice that swept down from the speaker. It washed down into the space, strangely disembodied, like you couldn't really connect that sound to the presence that was Jen. It was an interesting feeling. She thought, as she listened to the voice, that she could hear barely concealed stress in the tone.

"Well, we can go on without." Dick muttered, staring up at the dead stage-lights. His eyes lit up as an idea struck him. "If it's too dark to read from scripts, it'll test how people are going with learning their lines!"

An audible groan crept up from the assembled cast. Laurie snorted wryly, not in the least worried about knowing the play.

They ran through the scenes again and again. Each time Laurie was able to get the line perfect, but was constantly missing cues.

"You're just not with us today, are you Ms Newman?" Richard chided, rapidly losing what was left of his patience.

The voice snapped her roughly out of her reverie, as she missed yet another entrance. She flushed. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me..."she managed, feeling stupid.

"Just, see if you can follow along will you?" The snide tone was enough. Kicking her thoughts into submission Laurie looked around, realising in embarrassment that she hadn't a clue where they were up to. A nudge from a sympathetic cast-mate had her caught up in seconds, and she shifted herself into a higher gear. Richard watched the change with satisfaction, and turned away, within seconds lamenting the accent of his Don Pedro, the faults of his Beatrice momentarily forgotten.

Up in the lighting box, a pair of bright blue eyes settled themselves on the figures jumping around on the stage and stayed there, with no insistent director to interrupt her thoughts.

Act I.vii

"Hey, I'm home!" Laurie stomped into the lounge room of her apartment, exhausted, flinging her backpack onto the chair and rushing straight to the fridge. She could hear taps whining in the background and assumed her flatmate Karen was taking a shower.

Twenty seconds and a huge glass of coke later, she was settled at the table, nibbling cheese biscuits and reading the two day old newspaper.

A tall, lanky, dark haired figure emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a white fluffy towel.

"Hey, how was work?"

Laurie pulled a face. "I just couldn't keep my head on straight, concentration kept wandering off everywhere."

"That's not like you." Karen mused, stealing a biscuit from the pile on the plate.

"I know, that's what bugs me."

"Something on your mind?" Karen settled herself on the couch, hair dripping water down her shoulder blades.

"Not that I can put my finger on."

Her flatmate nodded, stuffing the remainder of the biscuit into her mouth and rising off the overstuffed sofa. "Well, I'm going to dive into some comfy PJ's and watch The Practice. Nothing like trashy law shows to make your life feel more significant. You going to join me?"

She shook her head. "I should probably run over some lines."

Karen's eyebrows shot up. "Oh please, you've known that damn play since high school..."

"I know, I know!" She laughed, remembering her conversation with Jen in her office. "You know, I told that old story to someone on the production."

"Who?"

"Our Stage Manager, Jen."

"That's not a story you delve into too often, is she cute?"

Laurie smiled, and threw a pillow at Karen. She hid behind an impish grin. "Not that I've looked that much, but I guess so! That's your department, remember?." She cried, throwing more pillows. When she ran out she sat back, forehead furrowing. "But she's kind of stand-offish, like it wouldn't take much to piss her off."

"Highly strung?" Karen clucked, shaking her head. "Over stressed?"

"Probably. I don't really know what to say to her."

"Is she a dyke?" Karen asked, hopefully.

"You are amazing! I have no idea, I never asked her."

"You'll never know if you don't ask." Karen insisted, the smile growing wider.

"I kissed one woman at a stupid party and already you're trying to set me up! I told you, I don't know if I like women." She got up off the chair and crossed the room, plonking herself down next to her flatmate. Karen took her hand companionably, stroking it.

"So what does this woman look like? Why does she interest you?"

'She doesn't...OK, she does, but I don't know why." Laurie slumped into the softness of the couch. Karen made a gesture for her to continue, a teasing smile threatening to break through from underneath the studied, comforting look plastered on her face. "She's tall. Very tall. She towers, it's amazing. Long dark hair, these incredible eyes..." She realised she was rambling and blushed slightly, drawing away from Karen's touch. She folded her arms and attempted to gather her thoughts. "And like I said she's completely unreachable."

"Does she never laugh or something?" Karen asked, confused.

"No, it's not that. She seems to have this really dry humour actually. No, it's more that she's..."

They both jumped as the phone