The Interview

Chapter Nineteen

"Mark this day, commoners," Crope announced in a booming voice as he flung open the door to their apartment. "Mark this day," he repeated, "for today a star is born!"

Meanwhile on the couch, Glinda and Tibbett looked at each other before breaking into gales of laughter.

"Such disrespect," tutted Crope and dropped his duffle bag on the coffee table before flopping himself onto the couch between his lover and his flatmate.

"I take it you got the lead?" Glinda asked, gasping for air.

Tibbett stifled his mirth and rolled his eyes.

"Of course he did. Otherwise, he'd have come back moping, even if they'd offered him the next best supporting role."

"Well, I deserve this role, that's why," Crope declared with conviction. "Everything else would have been plain robbery."

"I'm proud of you," grinned Glinda, pulling him into a brief hug.

"We're both so proud," added Tibbett with a small pat on his back. "But remember, this is community theatre, not Goldhaven. You'll still have to take care of the dishwasher tonight and every other night after that, as per our agreement. And don't forget about your other chores and duties. And don't quit your part-time job just yet either. I mean it."

Crope pretended to get in a huff, while Glinda rose to her feet.

"Really good to hear about your great news," she said, "but I'm afraid I won't stick around to celebrate. Still got some work to finish before I go to bed."

Slightly disappointed, the boys bobbed their heads in understanding.

"Goodnight then. We'll probably continue the celebrations in our room later," Crope told her with a cheeky wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Ugh. You two are the worst," she groaned good-humouredly and gave a little wave. "Anyways, let me know if and when you need help practicing your lines. Goodnight. Fresh dreams."

Glinda made sure to firmly close the door behind her and popped in a pair of wireless earphones, not in the least interested in seeing or hearing anything of her roomies' nightly escapades. After choosing a random playlist on her phone, she sat down at her desk and opened her laptop. She'd barely started typing, when the music suddenly went quiet and a chime announced the arrival of a new message. She reached for her phone, eyes fixed on the screen until the smaller display intercepted her line of sight.

'Maybe we should change this passage?'

With the next tone, a portion of Elphaba's speech appeared; a little later, a third message contained the proposed alterations. Glinda read through both versions three times, frowning deeper at each attempt. She couldn't even remember from which section of the speech Elphaba had taken the original extract.

The phone rang again.

'What do you reckon?'

"Goodness," she muttered to herself, running her hand through her hair.

Why the urgency? Editing Elphaba's initial draft had taken up their entire Sunday up until the point of Glinda's departure in the late afternoon. Quite obviously, Elphaba had returned to her desk the moment the door had closed shut between them. Maybe Glinda should not have insisted on taking the public transport; now she almost felt guilty for not forcing the wayward green girl to take a break from her obsessive working.

She considered ignoring Elphaba's badgering for the time being, but the exact moment she put her phone down, it lit up again. This time, rather than sending another string of messages, Elphaba was actually to calling her.