Tara s Bayou Level 1 Fresh Meat
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Relentless weeks of rehearsals followed and Peter slid into an easy routine of collecting Jennifer at her apartment, attending rehearsals and taking her back to his apartment for dinner and music.
Working, learning lines and memorizing stage movements were delightful tasks and always they had something to discuss. Even so, Peter did not attempt to hold her or kiss her. He was terrified of risking the friendship he believed they both enjoyed.
At last, the time came for the villain to sweep the heroine into his arms.
Conscious of the cast watching, Peter was tentative every time he held Jennifer and, certainly, his kisses were most demure until that fateful night when, brandishing the mortgage high above her head and growling the fatal words, ‘Come, a kiss to seal the bargain!’ he swept Jennifer into his arms.
No longer could he deny his pent up feelings. His fingertips burned and his lips tingled. Drowning in the sweetness of her mouth, he allowed his passion to sweep over her.
‘Break!’
His mind too busy absorbing the sweetness and the heat, Peter didn’t hear the director. Such a triviality did not enter his brain.
‘Break! Break!’
Only then did Peter become conscious of the words enough to allow Jennifer to stand upright.
‘Steady on, Peter. That kiss would have scorched the rafters. That’s not suitable for a melodrama. Jennifer, if he does that again, kick him.’
Peter could only nod and pray that the trembling in his body wasn’t visible to Jennifer.
She was white-faced and a determined glint shone in her eyes. ‘Don’t you ever dare kiss me like that again.’
In the car after rehearsal, turning to Peter, she looked down at her lap and quietly said, ‘I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to take me to your flat. I want to go straight home.’
At least Peter was sure that Jennifer had felt something in his kiss.
Saying nothing, he walked with her to her door. When she turned, her head lowered, to accept the usual light brushing of his lips through her hair. Peter slipped his arm around her waist and effortlessly lifted her until she was on her toes. Then, as her face lifted in surprise, softly he began to laugh.
Jennifer’s lips opened as if she were about to speak and Peter kissed her words away, again rejoicing in the sweet softness of her mouth as his tongue slid in to plunder her treasures.
Her tongue battled Peter’s as her body strained against his.
He bathed them both in the extreme depth of his feelings, which had so long lain dormant and so strongly suppressed. Beginning to tremble, he slowly released her.
Quickly Jennifer spun about and moved though her front door. Peter heard the door slam and she was gone. Inside she leant against the closed door.
Then Jennifer, inside her head, was talking again. ‘Peter, smash the door down. I want more of those delicious kisses but I’m so frightened. My body wants you so much but my mind is terrified. What’s to become of me? Would I have known what to do if my brother hadn’t arrived that night?’
She struggled off to bed weeping profusely.
The following afternoon she rang Peter. ‘Don’t worry about collecting me for rehearsals next week. I’ll get myself there and home.’
Peter’s mind exploded and his thoughts were blunt. Damn the woman. She’s behaving as if I’ve raped a Vestal Virgin. For God’s sake, why shouldn’t I take her to rehearsals and home? He was bitter and he hurt.
‘I didn’t appreciate your behavior…’ Jennifer added coldly.
By now, Peter had taken enough of the Prima Donna act. ‘What are you doing Saturday night?’
‘I’m sorry.’ Her icy tones told him she wanted nothing more of him.
‘Right! If that’s the way you want it…’ Peter’s roar into the phone reflected his white-hot rage and his anger reflected his indignant frustration. ‘Who cares? Ring the Salvos, perhaps they care. See you at bloody rehearsals!’ Peter’s voice was icy and knife-edged severe as he slammed the telephone back into its cradle.
Eventually the rehearsal night arrived.
Peter was there early , waiting in the shadows to see how Jennifer arrived at the hall.
A taxi stopped and Jennifer stepped out but that did nothing to ease his aching heart.
The director took control. ‘Let’s start at the top of Act 2.’
Peter knew he had to speak.
‘One moment everybody!’ He paused until he had the cast’s full attention. ‘The other night, as villain, I got carried away and, unfortunately, caused the heroine considerable distress so now I apologize to her in front of you all and say because of my failure to behave as a gentleman I must resign from the show.’
A cool silence seemed to echo across the stage. Jennifer was ashen.
The director broke the silence. ‘You’ll do nothing of the sort. Rubbish! Without you as villain, we may as well all go home. Jennifer, I’ll see you in the green room now.’
Turning, he marched purposefully off.
‘Sit!’ He pointed to the chair on the opposite side of the table. Still standing, he spoke again, his voice calm yet intense.
‘I don’t know what happened as a result of that kiss. It’s none of my business but I can assure you that Peter will be the villain as he has the ability to carry this play. I’m prepared to replace you but not him. If the two of you can’t work together then you’re gone. He stays.’
Unable to believe what was happening, stony faced and white with shock, Jennifer listened.
‘There’s not a woman in the society who wouldn’t change places with you. To be in his arms and to be kissed like that – well the women of the society admire him and he really is their idol. He’s such a powerful yet gentle presence and protects them all. Not once has he made a pass at any of them or dated anyone.
‘Then you arrive and it’s obvious to us all that you hold his heart in your hands and you’re too blind,’ his eyes narrowed to slits, ‘or too self-centered to notice it.’
He stared at her for a long time before proceeding.
‘Peter would be most annoyed about my revealing some of his history so please don’t mention you know.’
The director still stared at Jennifer who merely nodded.
‘Some years ago three men lay in wait for our women to leave a rehearsal. They sprang on one woman and, as they dragged her into a car, they began ripping her clothes off – making it obvious what they intended doing.’
The director’s words were enough to plunge Jennifer back to her teenage years.
As his words wafted over her, she felt herself falling and she had struggle hard to stop her body pitching to the floor.
She grasped the edge of the table tightly until her knuckles were white as her memory took her back to that dreadful night of her school ball. She shuddered uncontrollably and sobs racked her body as she relived her own terrifying ordeal. Memories struggled to the surface from deep down in her soul where they had remained hidden for so long.
Oblivious of her distress the director continued. ‘Peter flew across the car park and hurled one of the attackers against the wall where he lay still. The other two produced knives and all Peter did was laugh. ‘Put them away or you’re dead.’ were Peter’s words in a voice that really terrified me. He didn’t seem in the least worried.
‘The second attacker lunged towards Peter and then screamed as his own knife buried itself in his throat. The third man was watchful and danced around Peter searching for an opening until Peter tired of his antics and…
‘When the police arrived there were three dead men, a car full of drugs and guns and one very frightened but very grateful member of the cast. Immediately the police had finished their investigation into the incident, Peter took the woman home. She later told us all how gently he undressed her, showered her and put her to bed. He spent that night and a lot more nights
with her until she felt safe.’
Jennifer looked up and began to speak but the director interrupted her.
‘No, don’t you dare insult the man! He didn’t bed her. Yes, he undressed her that first night then sat beside the bed holding her hand and calming her nightmares. He even arranged and paid for her therapy.
‘Several rehearsals later the remainder of the gang arrived in three cars to exact revenge. Peter calmly ordered me to call for ambulances and for police backup.
‘Six men armed with clubs – no knives – were determined to beat him to death. All Peter could do was laugh – a glorious rib-tickling laugh – that seemed to echo across the parking lot. Then he spoke and his voice was enough to bring fear into my heart. ‘Why didn’t they send the men instead of the boys?’
‘We could hear the wails of the sirens as he proceeded to tear the brave gang to shreds. Not one was left standing and some were on life-support for months.’ He shuddered before adding, ‘God, Peter’s a walking, talking, killing machine.
‘The police again laid no charges and were very surprised that he hadn’t a single mark on him. Eventually only one of the gang survived and has been a paraplegic ever since.
‘Yet, you come in here with his heart in your hand and treat him like scum. Well, none of us will stand for it. Make a decision tonight about whether you can work with him and whether you want to be the heroine. Let me know before you leave. If you can’t work with him then I’ll replace you.’
‘You can leave your script as you go.’
Suddenly the director stood, walked around the table to put his hand on Jennifer’s shoulder.
‘I know Peter far too well. He has a depth to him I’ve seen in no man. He’s never dated and I’ll swear on a pile of Bibles he’ll never harm you, but heaven help anyone who does.’
Shuddering, he concluded, ‘Thank you for allowing me to be father. Come on, we have to rehearse.’
Shaken and tearful Jennifer returned to the stage.
‘Peter, we’ll do the infamous kissing scene from the top. I’ll be the heroine and if you dare kiss me, there’ll be a new fight scene.
‘Jennifer, watch the new heroine struggle.’
‘Come, a kiss to seal the bargain!’ Peter took the director as if he was a lightweight to bend him back in the classic pose and to a casual onlooker they would have been kissing. The director’s arms beat against the villain’s back and one leg shook in the air as if the heroine were struggling violently.
‘My God, it’s like being in the clutches of a Kodiak bear. No wonder you reacted the way you did, Jennifer,’ was the director’s wry comment before calling each woman to stand in as the heroine and run through the same scene.
‘Hey! You’re not supposed to wrap your arms around the villain’s neck and kiss him as though he’s a long lost lover,’ he admonished actress after actress.
Jennifer was green. Her jealousy was almost enough to rip the villain from the stand-in and scream, ‘He’s mine – that’s my Peter.’
Finally, the director pulled Jennifer to one side.
‘Be calm. Struggle as much as possible then twice as much again. Punch his back and wave your free leg in the air. Struggle! Struggle hard! However, when he kisses you, put as much passion in your kiss as you possibly can. Don’t let him escape – put twice as much passion into your kiss and then stand back to watch the result. Don’t be frightened – we’ll protect you from the big lug.’
Jennifer took to the stage and immediately the cast could hear the change in the villain. ‘A tasty morsel.’ meant so much more and she didn’t have to see his stance.
Then those words echoed. ‘Come, a kiss to seal the bargain!’
She felt Peter’s arms go around her and she felt safe. Slowly he bent her back and she remained as still as possible. Suddenly, she began struggling violently, seeming to gain strength although under the villain’s power as she held the pose. She watched as, even more slowly, his lips closed on hers. Her mouth opened, her tongue began a love dance with his and she allowed her fire to scorch him as her two fists pounded his back. He tried to make his passion dampen her apparent resistance and his eyes attempted to bore into hers but her eyelids closed and the kissing went on.
Slowly he realised her hands were pushing him away and suddenly she was standing before him, glaring. Swept away by the passion of the moment he missed his cue.
Speechless and bewildered, the villain didn’t hear the prompter’s words although five times the she repeated the phrase. He stood staring sightlessly into space before realizing where he was as he stammered the next lines.
Roaring with laughter, clapping and shouting their delight, the cast stamped their feet.
‘Come on, villain, what did the heroine do to you? You thought you were smart eh. Good for you, Jennifer, go for him. Rattle his chain again, Jennifer.’
Breathless, confused and embarrassed, still shaking his head, Peter sat down.
Slowly Jennifer approached him, ‘Drive me home tonight and pick me up for all rehearsals, please, Peter. Forgive my silliness.’
There was no further talk of resigning from the cast.
When Saturday night arrived, unable to contact Jennifer and needing some respite from work Peter accepted an invitation to meet Ted and Bob at the club. He believed that he most certainly didn’t have to rely on Jennifer Blake for company. There would be plenty of girls at the dance willing to be his partner.
Bob was not visible but Ted was leaning over a dark haired woman.
She seemed vaguely familiar and, before Peter could turn away, Ted waved, calling him across. ‘Ah, Peter, so glad you changed your mind and came. We were wondering if you would be here. Take Ruth off for a dance while I find Bob.’
Smiling, Ruth took his hand and led him off. ‘We had a fantastic time at the trots.’ Her words were to Peter but her eyes followed Ted. She was smitten. ‘Ted knows so many people. We won so much. Where did you and Jennifer go? You left early and Jennifer has been terribly evasive lately. Karen and I want to know what you two did.’
It was easy to evade her questions as she prattled on. All Peter wanted was for the music to end so he could deliver her back to Ted. Then he could prowl and tonight he was hunting and would be no gentleman.
Bob and Karen, Ted and Ruth, Peter and his hostility all made a cozy little group.
‘What’s wrong, Peter? Lost your bet?’ Bob grinned and bent to whisper in Karen’s ear.
‘There’s someone here, you know.’ Ted’s smirk told Peter nothing.
Peter turned away to watch the dancers whirling and twisting in the latest craze. The crowd thinned and he stiffened. Two dancers had taken command of the floor. The redheaded young woman’s skirt flew high above her waist as she flashed under, over and through the legs of her partner. So engrossed were the two, they were unaware the other dancers had stopped to watch their performance.
It was Jennifer. Peter stared horrified. This was the woman who reacted so badly to a mere kiss and who had fended him off on the phone.
Bob slapped Peter on the back. ‘It looks as though your friend does have fire. You were right, that’s no Ice Maiden. My God, look at her,’ and leaning closer so that neither Ruth nor Karen could hear him he continued. ‘I should have tried harder. Bet you had a good time after the trots. No wonder you left early.’
Peter didn’t have to look at Bob to know his eyes filled with more than admiration. ‘Shut your bloody mouth. Shut up.’
Peter’s snarl was short and angry, brooking no denial and Bob turned back to the others. None of them dared to intrude into his mood again. They worried that he would vent his pique on them.
‘Hello, fancy meeting you here?’ Jennifer stood at Peter’s elbow her face flushed with the exertions of the dance. Wiping perspiration from her face with a delicate lace handkerchief she con
tinued, ‘You didn’t tell me this was your scene. I thought you’d be home playing…’
The look on Peter’s face frightened her so she stopped short.
‘Your date certainly can dance,’ was Peter’s angry reply.
The music restarted and before the pimply faced, disreputable youth dragged her off, Peter stood between them.
‘If you hurt Jennifer in any way you’ll answer to me.’ Peter allowed his voice to show that he wanted to snap this youth into two.
Turning to Jennifer, he stated loudly and clearly, ‘Bet he gets invited in for coffee. Or will it be more than coffee?’
Jennifer turned white. Trembling and crying, she shrugged herself free of the young man’s hand. Her thoughts screamed in her head. What have I done? I don’t want you to leave. I need you.
Peter couldn’t hear her thoughts as his head hung in sudden shame. He put up no resistance as security escorted him from the premises.
He hurt. He hurt so much.
He couldn’t stay to see Jennifer enjoying herself with some other man. To watch her in someone else’s arms would cause a violent explosion.
‘God, what brought that on?’ was Bob’s comment. ‘I really thought he was going to take that fellow apart. What happened to our friend?’
The cool of the evening did nothing to bring him to his senses and driving the car only gave him time to brood. He seemed to be driving aimlessly until the workshop loomed into view. Zombie-like, soul-dead Peter donned his overalls and began dismantling the latest damaged car.
Jennifer could go to hell. He’d get this car ready for painting. The parts were there. Then he could do some work on the race car. His mind, overloaded with anger, love and disappointment, closed down as he worked on the car slowly turning to the job in hand.
Then slowly his mind turned to the race car. There must be a way of lightening the chassis and getting a few more revs out of that motor. Bob did enjoy the winner’s rostrum and it was up to me to give Bob the best. I need no one.
Every slam with the hammer crashed into that little man’s face as he danced with Jennifer and in the glare of the welding flame Peter could see Jennifer’s face vibrant with enjoyment. The vigorous actions of cutting, welding and hammering the torn, twisted metal began to purge his soul and the angry hurt began to drain into just a deep black void as he became more engrossed in the job.
The shrill ringing of the phone disturbed him. He tried to ignore it but it just drilled into his consciousness until finally he picked it up.
‘Peter, can you help me?’ Mrs. Williams, one of his customers, sounded relieved. ‘I’m at the club and my car won’t start. Since that episode after rehearsals, I’m frightened of going into any car park to catch a cab. I’m so sorry to have to call you, but I had no one else I could call.’
‘That’s okay. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Wait inside the main doors by the security stand and I’ll flash the lights three times. You’ll be safe. I’ll get your car running on Monday and have an apprentice drive it home for you. Now wait there and stop worrying.’
Peter groaned, his thoughts in turmoil. Oh for God’s sake, why? Why me? I’d drive to the moon for Jennifer but it’s not her calling. It’s Mrs. Williams. Why me? Just because I rescued her that infamous night doesn’t mean I’m her white knight forever.
The car lights flashed three times and Susie Williams wasted no time sliding into the passenger’s seat. Her short blonde hair reflected the latest hairstyle. Her sheer, skin-tight blouse and brief, flared skirt displayed her feminine charms to advantage.
‘I hoped you were working – you’re always working. You’re a life saver and I do appreciate your help.’ Under the illumination of the interior light, her blue eyes gleamed and she lightly drew the tip of her tongue across her lipstick as if checking its taste but Peter ignored her response as he began driving her home.
‘Come in and let me get you a drink. At least I can do that as thanks.’
Peter’s thoughts reflected his sorrow. How different to Jennifer. Why? Why doesn’t Jennifer unwind, just bend a little? I wouldn’t hurt her.
No sooner had they entered her apartment than Susie poured a long fruit juice for both of them, and Peter, standing so close, couldn’t help noticing her warmth and softness as she stared up into his eyes. Her lips slightly parted as if demanding a kiss when she proffered the glass.
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