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[right][sup][i]Off-Broadway Rehearsal Studio — Bookstore [/i][/sup][/right]
[right][sup][i]Interactions: Bookstore Owner (NPC)[/i][/sup][/right]


Applause! A thunderous cheer, a pulsing excitement for the next act, a mass of playgoers all overjoyed by his performance—West McAllister could remember it so clearly. Watching from the sidelines, smiling from ear to ear, on one of the biggest stages in the world… And for a moment, he wants to live only in this part of the memory. The happy part. The part after just isn’t right. Everything had been going so right, why did it turn out wrong?

The leads… two incredible actors, and people he’d grown to consider his friends… murdered. During an intermission, when they were meant to be getting dressed, but had disappeared. The final acts of the play were about to begin, and they were nowhere in sight after that glorious performance. Instead, they were found dead. Feet chopped off, it was sick, it was all so sick—

“West? Hello? Lights?”

West snapped back into the present moment. He was standing on the side of the rehearsal stage as his new director stared at him with a death glare. The actors onstage all looked at him with traces of concern. 

[color=39b54a]“Oh, right—sorry! I’m on it!”[/color] West said cheerily, and even in his mistake, all worries about the past slipped quickly behind a smile. He got to work, quickly coordinating with lighting and cueing them for this moment in the play. The director shook his head muttering something West couldn’t hear, and rehearsal continued smoothly.

After that incident on opening night, the play was canceled under controversy and paranoia. [i]The Cobbler[/i] was on the loose in New York City, and some folks shared rumors that West was involved in the serial killings, people saying he was some psycho director from a cult coming to NYC to kill. Most people didn’t believe those lies, but superstition was superstition. West’s reputation was tarnished as he went from a Broadway director to an Off-Broadway stage manager… But at least he was still in theater, working his heart out!

These early morning rehearsals had been intense, but thankfully West was a morning person. Besides that one slip-up, he was fully awake, moving quickly behind stage, coordinating with lighting, set, props, and costumes, greeting everyone he saw with a smile and twinkle in his eyes. He moved with grace. Commanding yet always sweet, leading the crew yet still being part of the machine. 

[color=39b54a]“Let’s keep it moving folks!”
“Keep it up Todd, excellent delivery so far on that last scene!”
“That was a hilarious ad-lib, they should [i]really[/i] re-write that into the script.”
“Ruth, don’t forget the cue to move the back section of that set piece! … Yes, that one! Perfect.”[/color]

It was hard to juggle the role of a stage manager, but he had help. And as he exchanged conversation, a flash of green invisible to the average person’s eye was reaching behind him, pulling things in place. The tentacles of Hierophant Green, his beloved Stand, a helper who let him multitask to the max.

Around brunch time, they had time to take a break. While many of the crew went to grab a meal together at a diner next door, West told him he’d join them next time, and headed down the street. He still couldn’t get his mind off the past and needed to clear his head. He dodged cabs, smiled at cute dogs being walked, and tossed a couple of coins in the hat of a terrible guitarist busking on the side of the road.

[color=39b54a]“You’re doing amazing!”[/color] He said, and the man grinned back at him, continuing to play a bad rendition of Wonderwall. Even though the man on the curb had a lack of skill and other New Yorkers were annoyed by him, West saw that he was still brave enough to perform at all, and West admired that.

There was a bookstore nearby the theater that he’d been frequenting these past few weeks. It was calm, quaint, the perfect place to sit and read and forget about psycho killers in the streets of the Big Apple. He walked in and heard the bell chime. After a few moments perusing the bestsellers, West looked for the bookstore owner, someone he’d had a few polite conversations with before. With his signature smile, West waved and smiled at the bookseller at the front desk.

[color=39b54a]“Hello, my friend! It’s me again. How are you? I’m looking for a particular book… Something to relax the mind…”[/color]