Stage Fright
PART TWO: DRESS REHEARSAL
Joanne DeSoto awoke that Sunday morning, fitful over the lack of sleep she should had enjoyed. Roy was home for two days, and normally slept or played with Christopher and Jennifer whenever he had the chance. But that week was anything but normal.
Those banes of Joanne's existence, the Gages, had to come to the DeSoto home each day. Sally was practicing her tap dancing routine on Joanne's kitchen table (once toppling Joanne's spaghetti dinner - complete with the meat balls, tomato sauce, and garlic bread with mozarella topping!), then sang with Christopher and Jennifer under the direction of Joanne's Brownie troop assistant Vera McGregor, who was also a fourth grade teacher at Mullholland Elementary School. At least, that took Sally and the kids out of the house for an hour, so Roy and Joanne would not have to suffer through their Thursday night Welcome Back, Kotter and Friday night Donny and Marie rituals. But that didn't take Johnny and Roy out of Joanne's way - Mrs. McGregor's speciality was not two grown men whose day jobs were firefighting and saving lives.
From the garage, the two men were singing their version of Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. As predicted by Station 51's almost comical showing at the Firemen's Picnic, their singing voices sounded wobbly and almost drunken. Even a fourth-rate disco act, Joanne thought, was a huge improvement over this!!!
"JOHN! ROY!! WOULD YOU KNOCK IT OFF, ALREADY!!!" That was Joanne DeSoto's shrill, half-tired voice that boomed from the opened bedroom window. A man's black dress shoe was thrown roughly into the garage, barely missing Johnny's head.
"Watch it, lady!" That was John Gage, who suddenly stopped singing. His partner also stopped singing, and turned on the radio instead. Nat King Cole's original version of The Christmas Song was being aired. John raced out of the garage and faced Joanne, who was leading out of the window: "You could kill me with this thing!"
"Then, you two clowns should think before waking me up at six o'clock in the morning," cried Joanne, before slamming the window shut and going back to bed.
Roy stared intensely into John's face. What was Joanne's big problem, he thought, before turning the radio off. After all, he had listened to that Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire nonsense every year since he was a toddler: "Joanne's never been like this - at least, not since we got married."
"Have you guys considered divorce," inquired Johnny Gage. "Those chicks over at the Roxbury - I'd tell you, they were something else. Have you spoken to Irene, Karen and Katy lately?"
"Johnny," hissed Roy, "if Joanne finds out about what really happened at that disco party, we'll have to share the doghouse with Henry and his pals! She hasn't gone to her mother's since then."
"Then, don't tell her."
"I told her everything she needed to know. We've been married for 10 years, and I believe our marriage has always been based on honesty and trust. And," Roy sipped into his can of Mountain Dew, "I want to keep it that way - for my sake, for the kids' sake, and for Joanne's sake." He walked back into the garage: "Let's take it from the top, Junior!"
And the off-duty paramedics began rehearsing Grandma Got Run Over by the Reindeer once more.
*****
It was a good thing that John and Roy spent the weekend rehearsing all the songs they would sing during the Station 51 Christmas Variety Show - in the garage.
Over at the Stanley household, Hank was lying in his bed. A wet towel hanging limply over his forehead and a bottle of Tylenol capsules on the night table were reminders that he was having a headache. From the attic, he and Emily heard nothing but loud, tuneless electric rock music.
"I swear to God, I'm going to kill that kid," moaned Hank Stanley, as he buried his throbbing head underneath his pillow. The Stanleys' orange tabby cat, O. J., jumped on his back: "Get off my back, you stupid cat, or I'll literally make O. J. out of you." He pushed the cat off his back, causing her to land on the floor with her plaintive "meow."
O. J.'s four legs landed on the bed again - this time, on Emily's side. She stroked the cat's smooth, silky fur, trying to comfort her. "Don't mind that mean man, O. J.," cooed Emily. "He's just having a bad day. He really loves you, kitty."
"Emily, the day you brought that four-legged flea circus home was the worst day in my entire life," complained her husband. "You know I like cats like I like this musical earthquake." So, despite his headache, Hank Stanley threw the bedsheets off his tall, lanky body and sat up: "I'm going to break that noisemaker to pieces that not even that big fire chief in the sky would be able to put together."
"Devon's paid $250 for that electric guitar. It means so much to him."
"I don't care if it cost him my entire life savings," his father cried, now standing up, "that kid either practices Do Re Mi when everyone else's awake or I'll burn that thing up, smash it up, whatever!" And Captain Stanley stormed out of the bedroom, his feet thumping loudly up the steps leading to the attic.
But after he reached the final rung, Stanley was stunned by the sight of his daughters Angela and Lindsay, both wide awake and seated cross-legged on Devon's bed. Both girls were dressed in their pajamas and bedroom slippers, and Angela was holding her boudoir doll, a realistic-looking little girl in dark curls and heavily lashed brown eyes. Neither was draped in a bedsheet fashioned out of the American flag - Devon bought the patriotic comforter at a bazaar held during last year's Bicentennial. They were too busy watching their brothers play some obscure rock song on the wooden floor in front of them.
Hank Stanley walked to the bed quickly. He cried, "Devon! Eric! What are you doing waking half of Los Angeles up at this hour? You know we have to be at church in a few hours."
Devon Stanley stopped playing his guitar. His heavily browed eyes looked intently at his father as he cried, "Pop, Mass sucks! Mom's not even Catholic. And, I'm not, either."
"Well, the girls have to sing for the church choir today," his father said. "Mrs. DiGenoa's expecting them at 8:30. Now, get dressed, and we're going to hear some real music."
"REAL MUSIC," protested Eric, Devon's older brother. "Maybe to old guys like you, pop."
"I don't consider 38 old, Eric. I just remember when rock music meant songs that had real lyrics."
Devon interjected, "Yeah, the crap the girls hear on Happy Days and Laverne and Shirley."
"I'm sure that your kids will someday listen to the stuff you guys listen to now and think the same way," smiled the weary Hank Stanley. "Now, mosey to your rooms, girls." Angela and Lindsay hurried out of the attic without protest. Their father followed, announcing that it was their big day.
"I thought the big day is going to be next week," cried Lindsay. Her father knew what it meant: The day the big variety show was going to be shown to the public - with or without Chet Kelly's fire-eating spectacle.
"It will be next week, honey," he said wearily. "Now, put on that pretty red dress we bought for you at J. C. Penney."
"Daddy, it itches."
"But it looks pretty on you. Now, put it on and show it off to the world." Captain Stanley knew that Lindsay's life goal was to become the next Lauren Hutton or Cheryl Tiggs.
After the girls were safely enclosed in their shared bedroom, Stanley walked wearily into the kitchen on the floor below. There, Emily and O. J. were joined by, of all people, Chief McConnikee.
"The Chief's here to see you," Mrs. Stanley announced, as her husband nervously took a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker that rested between the blender and the microwave oven. After all, Chief McConnikee hadn't forgotten the night that Stanley melted his firehat back in the mid-1960s, when Eric and Devon were little and long before Lindsay and Angela were born.
"Hello, Hank," McConnikee greeted cheerfully.
"What are you doing here, Chief," asked his subordinate.
The Chief sipped into his cup of coffee. Then, he said, "I heard your girls are going to have their big debut at church this morning. Good luck to them."
"Thanks, Chief."
"But there is this one problem. Would you sit down?"
Shaking almost as uncontrollably as a lone leaf blowing against the cold New England wind in November, Captain Stanley sat across from his boss. McConnikee spoke up after looking carefully at the nervous man.
"What is this thing about one of your men, may I say this, eating fire," he asked.
Stanley cleared his throat before replying, "Well, it's for the Fire Department's annual variety show. It's Station 51's turn this year, remember?"
"I know that already," said Chief McConnikee, drinking more coffee and biting into a bit of Emily's homemade waffles. "But I can't believe that one of your men is intent on performing this dangerous stunt in front of an audience that'll likely have kids in it."
"It's not like Kelly hasn't done it before. He successfully pulled that stunt while Hamner was still the 51 captain, and nobody complained about it."
"Well, times have changed, Stanley." McConnikee swallowed more coffee. "We're in the business of fighting fires, right?"
"And saving lives as well. Gage and DeSoto do a great job at it."
"So, we shouldn't be putting on spectacles that would give kids the wrong idea of what the Los Angeles County Fire Department's all about. Having Kelly eat fire in front of an audience will only tell kids that it's okay to swallow fire - in fact, it's the exact opposite, as Gage and DeSoto will tell you right off the bat."
"That's what I've tried to tell Kelly over the last week, Chief. But nothing seems to be getting through to that man." Stanley shook his head. "Kelly was a magician in high school. I'm surprised that he's not serving time at San Quentin for all the things he's capable of when he wears that magic hat and waves that magic wand."
Emily Stanley had to join in the conversation. "So, when did the changes to the entertainment policy take place," she asked.
"Last Friday night."
"Well, the show'll be on next Thursday and everybody's doing rehearsals," she protested. "We can't just change the show's lineup like that."
"Can't you at least try?"
"I'm afraid not," sighed Emily. "The show took at least a year's worth of planning on mine, Joanne's and Hannah's part. We can't just change things because of a last-minute policy change. Couldn't you just phase the new rules in for next year?"
"We could try. But wouldn't that be a bad influence on the rest of the department?"
Angela and Lindsay, who were now wearing matching red dresses, hung around the bannisters that decorated the staircase. "Isn't Chet going to eat fire anymore," whimpered Angela.
"He will, honey," said her father. Then, he turned back to Chief McConnikee and said, "Look, most kids aren't stupid. It's not like they'll go home, light up a match and swallow it after they see a grown man eat fire on stage -"
"But there are always those who will think it's okay to do it."
Emily interjected, "Well, either Johnny or Roy could remind the audience that they shouldn't try that at home. They do this on TV all the time."
"Well, that changes things a little bit," said Chief McConnikee, sounding resigned. Then, he stood up and said, "I'd better run now. The Missus and my girls are waiting for me in the car. We'll meet you at the church."
"So, your girls are home from college this weekend?"
"One of them's already finished her exams, and the other girl's going back tomorrow to hand in her take-home exam, then staying over at her friend's place for the holidays." McConnikee headed towards the door. "Well, see you later, Hank, Emily, the girls." Then, he reminded the long-haired Devon and Eric to have their hair cut before leaving the house.
"What was that all about, pop," asked Eric.
"It's a very, very long story," answered his father, who slowly passed him at the stairs. He needed more Tylenol before going to church.
*****
Captain Stanley had to report back to work at 8 a.m. the next morning. So did the rest of the A-shift, which looked weary from their weekend of practicing for the show.
"If that's what Jack Nicholson and those guys have to go through each day, then I'm glad that I'm a fireman," complained Marco Lopez as he sat on the black leather sofa, next to Henry. Only Henry seemed to be paying attention to Tom Brokaw and Jane Pauley, who were on TV announcing the lineup for the next half-hour of the Today show.
"I second that," added Roy DeSoto, who poured the stove's ever-present coffee into his cup. "Why couldn't Joanne and the girls bring in real actors and real singers - then, the entire county would pay to see the show." He took his seat next to John Gage who, in his usual crooked grin and all, was humming The Strip. Chet Kelly kicked him underneath the table: "What's the big idea, Chet!"
"The Cap says no more blondes, brunettes and redheads in scanty elf clothes," Chet reminded his fellow firefighter. "And this time, he means it!"
Gage shot Chet Kelly a dirty look. "Oh, Chet! Will you just shut up," he said.
"Well, it will be a family show." Roy agreed with Chet for once in his life. "We can't mix wholesome family entertainment with a few hoochie-koochie girls."
Captain Stanley stepped into the kitchen, wearily. "Guys, we have a major problem," he began.
"What's the big problem?" Chet stood up, holding a shishkebab stick above his shoulder.
"Chet, I wouldn't do this if I were you," reminded Roy.
"You must be out of your mind," said Captain Stanley.
With a borrowed cigarette lighter, Chet lit the top of the wooden shishkebab stick. "Drumroll, please," he proclaimed. "Men, Chester the Magician is about to show you his most dangerous stunt yet. Don't attempt this at home."
John clapped both his hands on the table continuously. As he and the other firefighters watched, Chet lifted the stick above his head. Tilting his head back and opening his mouth, he soon lowered the burning shishkebab stick into his mouth and closed it. His face expressed delight in completing another successful stunt. But again, he said that the fire needed tabasco sauce. Captain Stanley shook his head in disbelief.
"Well, I'll be -", he said, before the klaxon was heard.
The dispatcher's voice reminded the firefighters about an "unknown-type emergency" at Mullholland Elementary School - Chris and Jenny's school, thought the worried Roy DeSoto.
Once the squad truck and the Ward LaFrance arrived at the school, the firefighters were greeted by the frantic Mrs. McGregor. "A bunch of fourth-graders are fighting in the gym. Please hurry," she cried, before leading the public servants into the gym. There, Johnny and Roy couldn't believe their eyes when they saw Chris DeSoto engaged in a fistfight with a girl - Sally Gage. Jeremy Kelly, Scott Brice and Ricky Lopez were also involved in the brawl. So were Lindsay Stanley and Lisa Stoker. It probably made the Jerry Springer show of 20-odd years later look like My Three Sons in comparison. The other children stood around the unruly fourth graders, looking on.
Chris shouted, "You stole my musical number, you four-eyed freak!" He lounged at Sally, aiming at her glasses.
"You wouldn't hit a girl with glasses, you retard," cried Sally.
"You don't look like a girl! You look like the Creature from the Black Lagoon!"
Sally ran towards Chris. "I'll make you wish that you were never born," she cried, kicking him in the shins. Chris DeSoto began crying loudly.
"You hurt me, bitch," he screamed.
Roy pulled his son and Sally apart, dangling them by the backs of their t-shirts. "I'll make you kids eat soap tonight for dinner," he said, in an uncharacteristically insensitive fashion.
"At least, it's better than eating your mother's spaghetti," continued Sally Gage. "It gave me food poisoning!"
John Gage snatched his niece from Roy DeSoto's hand, still dangling her from the back of her t-shirt. He made her look at his angry face: "Sally Gage! This is the fourth time that somebody's called me to your school to deal with you."
"Chris DeSoto's started it," cried his niece. "He knows I hate I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus!"
"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" That was Christopher DeSoto's rebuttal. He was now hanging in Roy's arms, his legs danging in the air, and his father carrying him out of the gym. "You just love getting everyone in trouble - even yourself."
Vera McGregor faced John Gage. "Can't you discipline that little brat," she asked.
"I do my best. Now, will you excuse me?"
Lowering Sally onto the floor, John took her hand and roughly pulled her out of the gym as well. "Don't think that you'll spend the rest of the day watching soaps on TV," he cried. "We're going to the station for a very long talk."
"I'm going to work with you," proclaimed Sally. "Neat-do!"
"Not neat-do, young lady! By the time you go to Aunt Linda's, you're going to bed without TV or supper for the night."
Disgusted by what he had seen in that gymnasium, Captain Stanley took out his walkie-talkie. "Engine 51, available. Squad 51, out of service for the next two hours," he said. "Or, as long as it takes before it can solve this very real emergency."
"Ten-four," responded the dispatcher.
After Stanley and three other firefighters left the scene, it was Jeremy Kelly and Scott Brice against Lindsay and Lisa. They began arguing loudly in front of other children.
"Well, you and Scott want to be stars of that stupid show," cried Lindsay Stanley.
"Somebody has to run it properly," argued Scott Brice. "Your and Chris' mothers don't know how to do it right."
Lisa Stoker gave Scott, then Lindsay, an inquisitive look. Instead of raising her voice, she suggested, "If you know so much about producing a Christmas show, why don't you show mom, Mrs. DeSoto and Mrs. Stanley how it's done?"
"Why not," agreed Jeremy Kelly. "Chris and Sally are in trouble with their dad and uncle because of this stupid play. I'm not going on." He walked away from his gang.
Ricky ran after him. "Look, Rampart General Hospital's put in a lot of money for this play," he said. "We can't back out now."
"I have a feeling that something's going to go wrong," Jeremy said. Then, he turned towards the gym door. The Ward LaFrance was slowly driving away from the school: "I don't want to be there when it happens."
to be continued in Part Three: What Could Go Wrong?
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