If Ever(79)

Fifteen short minutes later, I'm stage left, leaning against a set piece as the second act begins. I can't deny my exhaustion. I need a break, but there won't be one anytime soon. Finishing my run and trying to find my next job at the same time has turned out to be a colossal bad idea.

This first scene is the stunt where I free fall ten feet to the arms of the guys below. While they've never dropped me, the last week or so has been sloppy, resulting in my strained back and numerous new bruises.

The scene opens and the music of the chase scene peaks. I climb the set piece to escape my pursuers. When I reach the highest point, Max pushes me off the wall into the angry mob below.

The fall is a mix of terrifying and euphoria. It goes perfectly and I'm tossed back and forth in our tightly choreographed fight. I love the physicality of the show, it helps me stay in character and ups my energy, but as we work through the staged moves, I'm suddenly blindsided with a direct kick in the teeth.

I go down.

Hard.

Doubled over, the coppery taste of blood hits me. I move my tongue and discover I've lost a tooth. I'm about to moan fuck when I remember my mic is live and the audience might not appreciate the improvisation.

The orchestra plays on and the rest of the actors aren't sure how to keep going with me laid out on the stage. I rise to my knees, one hand pressed to my lips as I try to hold my tooth in place with my tongue so I don't swallow it along with a mouthful of blood.

When I stand and move my hand, blood gushes into my palm. I glance into the wings hoping Wes is paying attention. The orchestra stops in sudden waning of strings and horns. Wes's voice comes over the speakers, "There will be a ten minute delay of show."

I give the audience a slight wave that I'm fine as the curtain suddenly drops.

Connor is in my face. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Oliver. Are you okay?"

I grimace, not trusting myself to speak. Jordan is at my shoulder, guiding me to the wings while I concentrate on catching dripping blood so it isn't spewed all over.

"Jesus, Tom, what the hell happened?" Wes says.

I gesture to the handwringing rookie shadowing me and grab a seat next to the lines. Someone smartly sets a wastebasket below me where I finally let loose and spit blood, catching my front tooth in the process.

"Looks like I'll need new head shots," I mutter with my head hung over the trash and my hands coated in blood like a scene out of Carrie.

Wes pats my shoulder, relieved I'm coherent. Someone hands me paper towels that I press to my mouth, which throbs like a son of a bitch.

"Can we get lights back here, and someone bring towels." Wes turns to Jordon, from the ensemble, who is also my understudy. "Jordan, be ready if I need you to step in."

Based on my inability to bounce back into action, which is what I've done every other time I've received a stray punch to the gut or kick to the groin, combined with the excitement on Jordan's face, he's already figured this out.

"Tom, how you doing?" Wes asks.

I gingerly touch each of my front teeth to see if any others are loose or missing. Thank God, they aren't. "Other than a fat lip, a lithp, and a gaping hole in my mouth, I'm ready to rock and roll."

"Can I take a look?"

I lean my head back and pull away the blood-soaked paper towel. He shines his flashlight on my mouth and flinches. "Eh, yeah. Jordan, you're in." Wes clicks off the flashlight. "Your mouth looks like hell. Let's have someone get you to your dressing room and we'll call a dentist."

"I can make it on my own. It's my tooth that's broken, not my legs," I say flippantly. This is the last thing I need right now.

Tanya appears out of nowhere. "I'll help you."

She takes hold of me as if I broke my arm, not my tooth, and guides me all the way to my dressing room.

"Unfucking believable!" I toss my broken tooth on the table.

"You're not having a very good time of it are you?" She grabs a hand towel from the rack and runs it under cold water.

I drop into the chair in front of the lighted mirror. I pull away the paper towel to reveal a puffy split lip, my front tooth broke off at the gum line, and a gash in my gum. Shit. I'm supposed to have an audition tomorrow. I sure as hell won't get the part if I look like this. A trace of blood seeps from the cut. I push the paper towel back into place. My hands are covered in blood, and, despite my efforts, blood is smeared across the front of my costume.

"No, it's not been a good couple of days." I sit back while she wrings out the towel and hands it to me. The cold cloth is soothing against my swelling mouth.

Before long I hear Wes over the speaker. "Standing in for the role of Jake Hammond will be Jordan Ried." There are groans of disappointment from the audience, which gives me a slight bit of satisfaction, but Jordan's a nice chap. He'll do a good job.

In the background I hear the show continue and Jordon speaking my lines. It'll be a fun story for him to tell when asked if he's ever had to jump in at the last minute. For me, I can't imagine when tonight's debacle will be party fodder.

Tanya takes another wet towel and starts dabbing at the blood spots on my face and arms, and generally hovering over me. I take the towel from her, put my feet up on my dressing table, and close my eyes while I wait to hear the plan. A few minutes later, Wes appears with a slip of paper and Janet with an ice pack.