The scene was like something out of an apocalyptic film with tens of Ambulances, squad cars, a screaming Diva, a frightened husband, vomiting dancers and of course one very worried looking Tea lady, who was being led away to a squad car in handcuffs for trying to poison the cast of Chicago. Yes, it was the kind of scene that had ALL the news channels and paparazzi salivating.
“Trent…Trent…I love you, please, you have to tell them, I didn’t do it!” Sally wailed, as the police officer was ‘assisting’ her into the squad car. Little did the cast of Chicago or the stage hands know that Sally had a wall of pictures of Trent in her own little back room of the Theater house and there were pictures of all the leading ladies, with big red crosses through them. A serial stalking tea lady? Can you believe it? Simone could. She always thought there was something odd about that woman. Spending all her free time either in Trent’s dressing room, or watching him from the wings.
Meanwhile, the director was trying to calm down a distraught and irate Mariah Carey, who was on a stretcher and about to be loaded into an ambulance. “I’LL SUE!!!” She screamed as her husband kept patting her hand, only to have it swatted away by the Prima dona. “Dooooon’t you touch me…you…you…ADULTERER!” She waved the red thong at him as proof of his infidelity, and this was when another cast member sang out. “Hey…they’re mine!” At this, Mariah blew her gasket, and bellowed for her ‘heavies”, who happened to also work as bouncers at the Poison tongue on Saturday nights, to go and give the unsuspecting dancer…a talking too. They dragged the girl who made the claim about the red thong around the corner, where you could hear more shrieks and protests of innocence.
The director was sitting on a trash can, sobbing into his hands, as his multi million dollar production was going up in flames before his very eyes. “I’m ruined….Waaaaaah.” Simone patted his shoulder gently, showing a sincere side to her dark nature.“Don’t worry, Bertie, I am sure that you will find another leading lady, and the dancers should be…okay once their stomachs are pumped at the hospital.” Bertie the director took Simone’s hand and kissed it. She seemed to be the only one that cared about his production. “What would I do without you, Simone?’ He implored, his eyes brimming with tears.
“Oh I don’t know, but…can I ask, since Mariah is now out…can I have my dressing room back?’
“Anything you say, Doll.”
“Heh…Well, I guess I’ll see you when rehearsals kick off again. I have to go to the offices of Vogue magazine about some fashion shoot. Toodles.”
And with that, Simone swanned through the throng of despair and disaster heading to the main street to get a cab to go and catch up with her bestie Erica. Her friend was not going to believe all this.
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