I step out of the Cave and Derek gives me the come here gesture with his finger.
The finger gesture makes most people seem like a-holes, but when Derek does it, he makes you feel like you’re lucky to be beckoned.
“I’m kind of in a rush,” I say. “Ignacio called places.”
“There are no places without me,” Derek says. “I am places.”
He relaxes against the wall while techies and actors rush past.
“I know the show is still rough, but I want you to know you’ve exceeded my expectations on spot.”
“Thanks,” I say.
He looks up and down the hall to make sure we’re alone.
“Can I confide something to you? I’ve got one more year here, and I want it to be the biggest year ever. A drama in the fall, a musical in the winter, a comedy in the spring. Who knows, maybe I’ll direct.”
“What about Mr. Apple?” I say.
“He’s a lame duck. I can go over his head if I have to. I’ve got pull.”
“What kind of pull?” I say.
“Major pull. You know about my father, right?”
“I’ve heard of him.”
More than heard of him. Thomas Dunkirk. He’s the kind of guy who can call up the head of Lincoln Center and ask for a favor. Hey, I’m designing your new building. Did I mention my son is interested in theater?
“He’s coming to see the show,” Derek says.
“That’s great,” I say.
“I want to show him what I can do. What we all can do. This may not be LaGuardia Arts, but that’s no reflection on our talent. Do you know what I mean?”
“Absolutely.”
“So everything has to be perfect,” Derek says.
Summer walks by in costume, her pale thighs peeking out from under her skirt. Derek glances at her, then looks back at me.
“I want to be the first student to design and direct on the big stage. Everything. Start to finish. The theatrical equivalent of Quentin Tarantino. Write, produce, shoot, edit.”
“Impressive. If you can pull it off,” I say.
“I can pull it off. Have no doubt. But I need technical know-how behind me. I need a strong board op. Someone who can lead the crew in this area.”
“What about Benno?”
“Mutton Chops? Forget about him. We’re talking about you.”
I imagine being up in the booth, the computer board in front of me, watching dozens of lights go on and off as I press a button. I have to admit it’s exciting. There’s just one problem. The techie code is very clear about something like this.
You don’t betray a fellow techie.
But is it a betrayal if Derek decides to take the board away from Benno and give it to me? Maybe that’s just a promotion.
“You help me do what I want to do,” Derek says, “and next year you write your own ticket. You want to design lights? Design a whole production? I’ll back you.”
Derek stares at me, trying to gauge my reaction.
“I got your attention, didn’t I?” he says.
“You did.”
“I thought so.” Derek puts a hand on my shoulder, just like my father used to do.
I wonder if I was wrong about Derek. Maybe he’s looking out for me, for all of us. Sure, he’s ambitious, but that’s another way of saying he has vision. He’s an artist, like Dad was. And he wants to go places.
Maybe we can go places together.
He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “By the way, I saw you chatting with the new actor. You two aren’t—”
He makes a together gesture with his fingers.
“Not exactly,” I say.
“Let me be more precise,” he says. “Have you gone out with her?”
“No.”
“Have you even asked her out?”
“Not technically, no.”
“Then technically it’s every man for himself.”
“I guess so. Yes.”
“Good man,” he says. He throws me a two-fingered salute then heads out to the tech table.
I’m so stunned, it takes me a minute to realize what just happened.
I want to run after Derek and start the conversation all over again. When he asks me about Summer, I’ll lie and say, “She’s my girlfriend. We’ve been going out for a month. Stay away from her.”
I’ll say, “You’ve already been with every girl in the theater department. You can’t have her.”
I’ll say, “If you go near her, my brother Josh will kick your ass.”
But I don’t do any of that. I do what I always do.
I climb.