Hot Dogs by Janice Bennett Read Free Book Online Page A

the floors and
shedding all over the place,” Pete snapped. “And they’d damn well better be
housebroken.”
    “How dare you even suggest—” she began.
    “Lizzie,” I intervened quickly before the argument could
escalate, “we need to put up signs directing people from Lot B to this door.”
    Pete transferred his glare to me. “My guys will take care of
that.”
    “Great.” I managed to put some real enthusiasm and approval
into that word. Rule Number Three for the business, try to keep the clients and
the facility people from wanting to murder each other.
    I looked around. “They’ll be coming in by this door and we
don’t want them running amuck all over the backstage area.” Here I had the
satisfaction of Pete regarding me with a measure of approval. “Mr. Janowski?
Let’s set up three tables right here. One for handing out registration forms,
one where the people can fill them out and one to hand them in. Then the
committee can sit in the seats right in front of the stage to watch the
auditions. Pete? Where are the folding tables?” I pushed the forward momentum
before it got away from me. I’ve discovered—the hard way—there’s a fine line
between productivity and chaos.
    Pete headed toward the nether regions of the backstage area.
Janowski—typical of him—sent his assistant Theresa to help rather than go
himself. Janowski lounged against a wall flipping papers in the massive stack
he held and glaring at them.
    Fortunately it was only a short distance to the stage. It
shouldn’t be too hard to herd the acts in the right direction so we could check
them for suitability. We had agreed to hold the number of performances down to
thirty-six, which gave us an excuse for turning down the R-rated and the
painfully untalented. Of course with my luck we wouldn’t have enough show up.
You never know with this sort of event.
    In a way it felt odd carrying on as if a man’s body hadn’t
been discovered only a few dozen yards from here but his death had probably
happened a year ago and this event would be starting all too soon. Keep your
mind on your job, I reminded myself. Let Sarkisian do his.
    Just the thought of Sarkisian made me smile. Even if he was
working, at least he was here in Merit County and not hours away at school.
    The rustling of papers let me know Janowski had accompanied
me. Better get him busy before he thought up more things for me to waste time
on. “Where are the people who signed up to handle the registrations?” I asked.
    He looked up and blinked at me as if his mind had been miles
away. “Oh. They’ll be here.”
    Great. I much preferred hearing, “they’re right here”. But
as I’ve said before, I take what I can get and try to make the best of it.
    “Let’s get the committee sitting there.” I pointed to the
first row of seats. “Did you bring the clipboards?” As I’d reminded him to do
at least a dozen times over the last few days.
    He shrugged. “I told Theresa to take care of it.”
    And that, as I’d already discovered, was his usual response
to just about everything.
    Poodles erupted from the wings, yipping and bouncing,
followed by the vacuuming Roomba and lastly by Mazda. Lizzie arrived in a more
restrained manner.
    “What’s next?” she asked brightly. “Are we going to check
the lighting and sound?”
    “Who’s in charge of that?” I asked Janowski.
    The supervisor grimaced. “Edward Vanderveer. He’s done it
for a community players group before. I gather he’s pretty good at ordering
stage hands to get the right lights pointed in the right directions.”
    Theaters with decent budgets now have all that computerized.
Merit County? We’re back in the Stone Age. We do everything by hand—and with
volunteers, not professionals.
    Although I’d been to see several concerts and plays that
various groups had put on here, I’d never had reason to come backstage before
and I found it fascinating. Everything seemed a tangle of hanging ropes