“It’s suggested in the notes that it not be included.”
He hopped up and walked around the stage, looking at the rigging and curtains. “But, we show them sealed in the tomb anyway. Why not give them hope? Why not show that they are truly in love, and while there is no hope for their lives, there is hope for their love?”
“That’s morbid,” Cesar said.
“Why? Kim, and the original Cio-Cio-san, both commit suicide at the end of the story. The Phantom disappears, purportedly sacrificing himself for Christine. Valjean dies. Fantine and Eponine die. The little kid on the barricade is killed. Grisabella dies, and that’s her friggin’ reward for her life. Tony and Maria die. Romeo and Juliet, the whole production of Chicago is based on murders. Are any of those more morbid than a song about love after life?”
Shit. This guy was shocking me. He knew all those characters?
“This story is based—”
“On an opera by Giovanni Verdi that had a lot more violence in it than we see here. No one objected to Kim’s suicide to stay close to the original story. Why would they here. Give them their hope at the end.”
“If he starts singing the opera, I’m going to come,” Yvette breathed. Jayne and I choked and looked at her. “What? It’s true. He’s hot and I’m already in love with his voice, and body. SingCeleste Aidaand it’s the triumvirate of ‘fuck me now’-ness: Voice, body and mind.”
“Placido, Luciano, or Franco?” Jayne asked.
“I’m going with Placido,” Yvette said.
“Will you two stop,” I hissed.
“Oh, please, like you wouldn’t come in your pants if he did that?”
Well. They were right, but they also didn’t know that he was more interested in my pants than theirs—and that thought wasn’t helping me. At all. “Just hush. Let him talk. I know you want to sing the song, Jayne. Just hush.”
“I made a decision to keep it out based on notes that I had from twenty-six other productions,” Bill said. “This wasn’t arbitrary.”
“How many of them performed it for the live audience?”
I gasped. He was really going for it.
And more? He’d caught Bill. I could see the man staring down at his notes and I knew he was tapping his pen like he always did when he was thinking hard.
Austin walked to the edge of the stage. “Do you have the set and props?”
“It’s just the tomb at the end.”
“Then, can I make a suggestion?”
“Well, you’re already on a tear, go ahead.”
“Let’s add the scene at the end. Rehearse it. And then on Thursday for the full dress rehearsal for the media, we can gauge the reaction and either keep it in or take it out for Friday night.”
“April?”
“They need two days to learn the music and one to rehearse,” the conductor said.
Bill stared straight at him. “If the reviews come back as shit for the last song, it comes out. No questions.”
“None, sir.”
“Block it in. Spoken word until the pit’s ready. Which gives you and Jayne two days to make sure that it’s perfect. Jayne?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You on board?”
“All the way, Bill. You know it’s my favorite concept song.”
