September Stories

by Cherax

The Good Kind of Crazy

"It's the diva," Coco Pommel explained as she motioned to the bartender.

"Nope. No way. There's no way," rebuked High Life.

"You guys, I seriously cannot care about this," Waveshaper interjected. The three of them were seated at the counter of the After Party, Waveshaper in the middle, unenthusiastically sipping at a mocktail through a silly straw. Droning chill-out music hung like smoke in the air between them. The faux-dive bar had been flooded with stagehands and understudies at 9pm, as it was most nights, all seeking relief from an impossibly long day of prep and rehearsal; now happy hour had ended, and its unhappy patrons dripped out into midtown Manehattan streets, preparing for tomorrow's early start and late finish.

Coco leaned forwards to make eye contact with High Life across her unicorn friend. "What makes you so sure?" Waveshaper rolled his eyes.

"No motivation, Cocie. She's the lead! Just like the director never bloody stops saying: this production is going to make her a staaar, daahhlink. Golden Note will be a household name! What would she stand to gain from getting it cancelled?" Something twinkled in High Life's eyes that let Coco know he wasn't taking this seriously at all. He didn't take many things seriously, she thought, which was most unbecoming of a rigger. His job was as dangerous as it was important, and his nonchalance would surely some day earn him a few broken limbs. She winced internally at the idea.

"I've been thinking about this. You assume I haven't thought about this, but I— Oh, another spritzer, please," she said to the silent bartender, then continued, "I have a lot of time to think about this."

"Tch. Do you guys actually do anything down in Costume?" Waveshaper accused, still staring into his colourful glass.

Coco ignored him. "I asked one of my actor friends about it." (Waveshaper tched again; she kicked him with a foreleg, and she saw him grin into his mojito.) "Have you heard about, um, exclusivity clauses? The producers make the big actors sign these contracts that say, if you're the star of one show, you can't go around being the star of ten other shows at the same time, or even for a few months afterwards, because then you aren't a draw. Anypony could see you anywhere else."

"And you think…"

"I think she got a better offer," Coco said, sipping her fresh spritzer with a smile. "This production's good - it's very good - but it's not the best."

"I heard the Travelling Canterlot Co. is casting Les Chevaux Terribles," Waveshaper said quietly, brushing his chestnut fringe from his eyes.

Coco swallowed her sip excitedly. "Mm! See? She wants out, but she can't just quit, because, because contracts are complicated, I suppose. She needs the producers to cancel it for her. And in her desperation, she turns to sabotage! That's it. It's the diva." She pointed a hoof at High Life with what she hoped was an air of finality.

High Life had been taking this in with pursed lips, and now shook his head grimly at her wavering hoof. "Nope. Too easy."

"Easier means more likely to be right!"

"Maybe, but also more likely to be boring. No, it lacks a certain… theatricality. Shameful, Cocie, I thought this business would've rubbed off on you by now." Coco gave a crestfallen sigh. "If you ask me," High Life leaned in towards his companions, "I think it's—"

"It's not a ghost," Waveshaper drawled, tipping his head back to stare at the dim ceiling lights.

"I wasn't going to say— Go home, Wavey."

"Take me home, handsome."

"In a minute. No, I think it's gotta be the understudy. A bright young talent, spurned in the wings for too long! Or the main character's best friend, you know, the one that drives the plot but doesn't get any good songs? Jealousy, Coco. Ponies are driven by love, death, or a jealous desire for either. I read that somewhere."

"Ohhhh," Waveshaper suddenly sang, turning to High Life with a wicked grin. "Hold up. I just figured it out."

"What?" his companions said together, both a little too eagerly.

"You've got it, man. Jealousy. Who's the doofus that plays the love interest? With the big face?" High Life shrugged.

"Tender Melody," Coco said quietly.

Waveshaper barked a laugh. "He's banging the diva on lunch breaks. Everyone stage right can hear it. And Cocie wishes it was her."

"I— Shhh— Shut up!" Coco buried her face in her forelegs. High Life cocked his head, realisation blooming across his face. "That has nothing to do with my theory," she mumbled.

"Don't let jealousy cloud your thinking, dear," Waveshaper grinned. "Hey - y'think he has to do it with the understudy too?" He whooped with laughter. From the other end of the bar, the bartender shot him an impatient glare. "Understudy! Studying… her under… Hang on, there's a joke in there somewhere."

~

It was two days until the press preview. Despite the mystery saboteur's attempts, the production definitely wasn't cancelled - Coco swore she'd seen a poster for The Mare from Mill Valley on every single street she'd walked on the way to work. Upon entering the Zenith Theatre she'd been hit by a wall of noise as loud and frenetic as a war zone: there were carpenters sawing and hammering away at the sets and props on stage, riggers and technicians yelling warnings across the high catwalks, cascades of melodramatic wailing coming from the rehearsal rooms, ominous rumbles from Waveshaper's Foley room, and dozens of department managers barking orders at anyone who made eye contact with them.

Sets were busy re-painting the backdrops that had been mysteriously stained by slashes of black ink; Electrical were replacing all the stage lights that had mysteriously burst overnight; Costume, by contrast, had almost nothing to do. Thanks to her two stellar employees - and, if she could allow herself a moment of immodesty, her great organisational skills - all their hard work had been out of the way for days, and the crew merely waited around on standby for last-minute alterations and repairs. She'd clocked in, made a fresh pot of coffee for the Costumers room, and with nothing else to do, headed off to find High Life.

"I dunno. I mean, yes, he's hot," High Life said thoughtfully, "but I don't think I'd date anypony working in theatre." The two of them were perched on the catwalk high above the back of the stage, watching ponies carrying props back and forth below them. The rest of the riggers were outside on smoke break. There was a faint crackle heard and felt in the air, a mix of background magic and electricity from the various lights and wires criss-crossing all around them.

Coco gave her friend a pointed look from beneath the oversized safety helmet she'd donned. "You are dating somepony in theatre."

"Nahhh, that's different. Waveshaper is backstage, he doesn't count. I mean, like, singers and actors…" High Life took a long sip of his coffee, resting his mug precariously on the security railing. "They're super weird."

"Waveshaper is super weird." She moved the mug to a safer position. Somepony was shouting below about the exterior nighttime backdrop going missing.

High Life giggled. "Again, different. You ever talked to one of these actors at a party? I don't think they ever turn it off. Every single interaction is a performance. It's… it's disconcerting, is what it is. Can't imagine a healthy relationship built on that."

Coco hummed in agreement, waiting for someone to notice the exterior nighttime backdrop. It was rolled up and half-obscured by the drawn stage curtains. "I never said I wanted to date him."

High Life feigned a shocked look. "Coco Pommel, you minx!"

Her cheeks flushed red and she drew the hat down over her eyes. "H-hey!" she called out to the stage floor, "the backdrop is in the curtains! Stage left…!" But her voice was lost in the din of the theatre.

"I'll go tell them," High Life sighed, trotting over to the ladder. "You absolute minx."

Watching the carefree rigger on the stage floor below her, she found herself remembering the first piece of advice she'd been given in show business - "find a friend." At the Hinny of the Hills closing night after-party, in somepony's opulent kitchen, a surprisingly sober stage manager had told her, "this business is full of crazies. It's easy to make enemies without even trying. Find the good ones, and stick to 'em like glue." That had been her first friend, and High Life, who had soon after stumbled into the room insisting he would make everypony celebratory sandwiches, was a close second place.

Backdrop-locating job complete, he looked up at her and saluted. Coco beamed back at him as he made his way over to the ladder, wondering how crazy he thought she was.

A sudden movement in her periphery caught her attention. She looked up - on the catwalk opposite her, not five metres away, she saw a slender, shadowy figure step with uncertainty out on to the platform. They leaned in close towards the clamps that fixed the main stage lights to the ceiling truss. Their horn and the clamps began to glow.

"High Life," Coco whispered, eyes fixed on the mysterious pony. There was no reply. "High Life!" she hissed, then froze - but it seemed the unicorn hadn't noticed her. By the light of the magical field, she could make out… Pale yellow fur, straight silver mane - yes, it was unmistakeable. She saw Golden Note magic several nuts and bolts into the folds of her white sundress with a devious smile, then turn and disappear into the wings again. Coco realised she was holding her breath, and exhaled loudly.

"Miss me?" High Life sauntered over to her, picking his mug back up.

Coco sighed pre-emptively. "Tell me you saw all that just now."

"All what?" He slurped loudly.

~

"I saw her do it," Coco Pommel explained. "I saw her do it right in front of me."

"I didn't see her do it," rebuked High Life.

"You guys, I am trying so hard to care about this but I just, I literally can't," Waveshaper interjected.

"You're not trying."

"No, I'm not. Another mojito, please and thank-you!"

~

It was the day before press preview and Coco had decided to stalk Golden Note. On some level she knew this was a terrible idea, and she should really leave this problem to someone far more suited for the job, or at the very least, get some help, but… But everybody just looks so busy, she thought. I don't want them to have another problem to deal with. That's all.

Beneath that thought, embarrassing and unspoken, there was a picture of a dream - Golden Note trotted off in handcuffs, the police and producers praising her efforts, and Tender Melody himself, amidst the crowd of cheering colleagues, vying for the attention of the mare that solved the mystery. She was trying very hard to stop thinking about it.

Golden Note - adorned in a flowing red gown that seemed unnecessarily gorgeous - had been in rehearsal with the director, her understudy, and a few not-quite-as-important actors for most of the morning, going over the blocking and harmonies for the penultimate number. Through a transom window Coco had watched the diva intently, noticing her eyerolls when the director wasn't looking and frequent glances at the wall clock. Several stagehands had walked past Coco, giving her odd looks, but she paid them no mind. She had a mission.

They broke for an early lunch just before noon - as the cast exited the room, Coco tucked herself into a dusty alcove nearby, waiting until Golden Note had emerged. The mare let everyone get ahead of her, then headed off alone towards the stage-right wing. Swallowing her nerves, Coco followed after her silently.

The diva stuck to the shadows, sneaking her way behind curtains and backdrops, avoiding the line of sight of crew members who might catch her in the act. This was quite easy, Coco realised, as all of the crewponies they passed were slacking off, eating and laughing and playing card games with complete disregard for the two mares. One particularly jovial carpenter didn't even notice as one of his large metal hammers was magicked off his tool bench and disappeared into the unlit recesses of the great theatre.

Past Prop Storage 1A, up a long thin ramp and through a rusting metal door - Coco realised with a start where Golden Note was headed, and rushed up the ramp after her. It occurred to her that this was her first time in the Foley room - Waveshaper was, snobbishly, never keen on letting staff from other departments in. The room was long and thin and cluttered with all kinds of bric-a-brac - shelves lined the walls stacked high with bells, pipes, cutlery and crockery, foals' toys and weapons. The back of the room curved to allow access directly behind the stage, where the magical amplifiers were positioned.

Golden Note strolled leisurely through the room, hammer in magical tow, eyes taking every piece in, as if searching for something - she paused as her gaze alighted on her target, then glided towards it. At the back of the room there stood a large horizontal cylinder marked RAIN with a crank at one end, and next to it, an ominous black sphere marked THUNDER that glowed with blue magic. It issued a low rumble as the diva raised the hammer high above her, eyes glinting in its magical light. Coco's heart pounded like a timpani. Every part of her screamed at her to do something, anything.

"Hey!" Coco yelled. The diva stopped in her tracks, and her head snapped towards her. Coco searched for the right words. "That's… that's not yours!"

Golden Note's gaze was piercing even from a distance. "Duh," she spat.

"I mean…" Coco cleared her throat. "So!" she intoned in her most dramatic voice, "caught in the act!"

"You're not very good at this," Golden Note said, spinning the hammer idly in the air.

"I'm sorry, I'm from Costume. I don't normally, um…"

"Costume!" the diva laughed. "Well, you'll have to do." She shifted her footing and bellowed, "yes, the impossible becomes reality! The unthinkable is made to be thought! Indeed it is I, Golden Note, the star of the show, who was secretly its saboteur all along! I suppose you desire an explanation as to why I've been doing this," she monologued. Coco wanted to offer her theory, but the diva left no room for conversation. "The truth is perhaps too complicated for a little backstage brain like yours, but in short - I got a better deal."

"Yesssss," Coco breathed.

"Oh yes, much better! From a company that would treat me like the star that I am! A company that wouldn't make me pay for my own lunches! A company that would give me more speaking lines than Tender bloody Melody!"

Coco was still trying to figure out if this was all really happening as the diva slowly stalked towards her. "Fair's fair, wouldn't you say? They disrespect me, I disrespect them. I'll take this whole production down, piece by piece, until there's nothing left but a pile of bounced cheques and broken dreams…" She brandished the hammer before her, teeth bared. "And if it comes to it, broken bodies, too."

Coco gulped. "S-surely there's an easier way to void your contract."

Golden Note hesitated, then shrugged. "Easier, but more boring."

"Will you two please," a low voice drawled from the back of the room, "please shut up about this already? Please. I just…" Through the dark she could make out Waveshaper leaning around the corner. "I just hate this. So much."

"W-Wave—"

"Shhhhh. Cocie, I am trying not to take this personally. Now get out." He cocked his head at Golden Note. "You too, obviously. Leave. Now."

Golden Note turned towards him - Coco could only guess the look on her face. "Who in all hell—"

"Oh wow, are you still here?" he asked with mock incredulity.

"Did you not hear me?" She waved the hammer above her head for emphasis. "I just strongly implied I'd kill your friend!"

"Mmhmm. You go do that, literally anywhere else." Waveshaper motioned towards the door with his foreleg. His horn glowed, and Coco felt something in the air gently pushing her and the diva back out the way they entered. They acquiesced, and Coco heard him mutter, "actors!" before magicking the door shut with a slam.

The two mares stood at the top of the ramp, unsure of what should happen next. Hoofsteps echoed on the wooden floor behind them, and they both about-faced. High Life stood at the base of the ramp, squinting at them. "Uhh. Hey, Cocie," he said slowly. "Is Wavey busy, or…?" His eyes flicked to the other mare, back to Coco, back to Golden Note. "Hi, I'm sorry. I'm High Life. What's with the hammer?"

Coco's mind kicked back into action, and she spun around, stepping away from the saboteur. "This is Golden Note! She came here to smash all of Wavey's stuff and then she threatened to kill me but Wavey kicked us out and— eeeeee!" She jumped backwards as the hammer came swinging down through the air in front of her, just barely missing her muzzle - she felt the rush of displaced air across her widened eyes. The hammer lodged itself into the floor with a crunch.

"Oh shit," High Life yelled, "you were right!"

"Help meeeeee!" Coco wailed. The diva made a gargling sound, and the hammer shot up into the air between them. Coco glanced back towards High Life, but he was gone. She could just make out his voice shouting over the sound of rushing blood in her ears.

The hammer floated above her, the diva snarling - Coco flattened herself against the left railing, and the weapon crashed down, passing only centimetres from her ear. "Y-you're not very good at this!" she squeaked at her attacker. Golden Note lunged at her then, teeth gritted, wild eyes wide as moons. Her forehoof sunk down into the hole the hammer had created, and Coco watched as the diva's momentum shifted around her trapped leg. It all seemed to unfurl in slow motion - the front half of her body was pulled to the floor, the back half continuing on unabated - the mare contorted and shrieked as her flank soared above her head along a graceful parabola that concluded firmly at the ground.

As she stared at the crazed showmare writhing on her back, tangled up in her crimson dress, whispering death threats in between pathetic mewls of pain, Coco decided that this almost definitely wasn't happening. Just to be safe, she picked up the hammer and flung it down the ramp, out of magical reach. It slid to a stop at the hooves of High Life, a producer, and four very muscular and concerned-looking prop builders.

"What the hell?" the producer exclaimed.

"I seriously do not know," Coco yelled back. She realised she was grinning.

~

The arrival of paramedics and police assured Coco that it did, in fact, happen. The crew milled around the stage and front rows, versions of the story jumping like electricity from one loudly murmuring group to another; the diva's leg was being tended to at the back of the theatre. Coco had recounted the event to a stern-faced detective, who'd simply given her an unreadable look, assured her that they'd talk again a bit later, and left her alone by the orchestra pit, still buzzing with adrenaline and self-satisfaction.

"Is that… Golden Note?" Coco turned, and her heart skipped a beat - Tender Melody was standing beside her, squinting at the far-off figures.

"Yee—" Her voice cracked; she cleared her throat. "Yeah. She um, she snapped, or something? Tried to kill me, you know, haha."

He tilted his head towards her. "Are you okay…?"

"I'm fine! Totally fine!" She laughed nervously. "These things happen, I guess…!"

"Uh, yeah. I guess." He turned back to see two nurses rolling Golden Note on a stretcher out the main entrance, double doors swinging shut behind them. "Damn. I was really looking forward to— um. Having lunch with her."

And in that moment Coco realised the difference between bravery and fearlessness. She gently touched her shaking forehoof to his, and whispered, "I'm starving."

Comments

[Cherax]

6411600 I dream of a more perfect world where no-one goes to art school... (Thanks for reading!)

[PresentPerfect]

I was expecting another piece of people sitting around talking, but the mystery/thriller aspect worked out pretty darn well. :)