Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [71]
Alex turned grandly and generously gestured for Conrad Birdie, and as Brady jogged onstage, the audience let loose a new crescendo, and even the cast applauded. Cast members departed in the order they had appeared and were demanded back three times. Finally Brady forced Mr. N. to also make an appearance, and when that had gone on long enough, the director cued the curtain, and the cheering crowd finally, seemingly reluctantly, settled.
Brady had never been so high. The cast and crew congratulated each other as they slowly changed into street clothes, and as they made their way out of the dressing rooms and up the corridors to the front of the theater, parents and friends and fans slapped their hands and called out compliments. Everybody, it seemed, wanted to meet Brady, and his castmates appeared to love introducing him as if they were his dear friends.
He caught sight of Alex, crowded by his parents and little sister and surrounded by his friends; he also noticed they seemed to be sneaking glances his way and measuring the attention he was getting. The little girl, Katie North, suddenly appeared at his side and slipped her arm around his waist, beaming.
“This your sister?” someone said.
“Nah, Alex’s,” he said.
“I’m his lady friend!” Katie chirped, and everyone laughed. Even little kids loved the bad boy.
“Mother of the star, comin’ through!” came the undeniable voice.
Erlene Darby was trailed by her boyfriend-slash-boss, and it was plain they both were drunk. Brady immediately shook free of Katie, moved past his mother to her boss, and squeezed his shoulder as he bent close. “You get her out of here right now, or I swear on my life I’ll burn down your restaurant.”
“They kicked us out of the theater, Brady!” the man said.
“And I’m kicking you out of here. Now go!”
“Made me stand to see my own son!” his mother said, and Brady saw people spin, mouths agape. He wanted to shout that he had never in his life seen this ghastly creature, still in her waitress dress. Seeing they weren’t going to leave, he took each by the arm and marched them outside.
“Did you cause that ruckus in the back?” he said.
“I shouldn’t have to stand to see my son in a play!”
“You were late! And you didn’t have tickets! What were you thinking?”
“When they found out who I was, they put us in the corner behind the back row. Then somebody thought I was cheering too loud. But why not? You were great, Brady.”
“You’re pathetic. You embarrassed me.”
“How can you say that, you ungrateful little—”
“Where’s Petey?”
“He’s home, and he’s fine. Don’t you worry about him.”
Alejandro approached. Oh no!
“This your madre?” he said, girlfriend in tow. “Bet she’s proud of you tonight, eh, muchacho?”
“I’m proud o’ him, but he’s not proud o’ me!” Erlene Darby slurred, and Brady saw instant recognition on Alejandro’s face.
“Well, you did a good job, man,” his boss said. “I’ll see you Monday, okay?”
Adamsville
Thomas had talked Grace into retiring early, but the house was small enough that as he sat reading on an old couch in the tiny living room, he could hear her tossing and turning. He wondered whether it was better to let her fall asleep before joining her. He decided to memorize one more verse first.
But as he was working on it, he heard Grace begin to sing. As prodigious as he was in retaining the words of Scripture, she had hundreds of hymns—every verse—burned into her memory. He looked up from his Bible and lay his head back, closing his eyes as she softly sang.
O to be like You! blessed Redeemer,
This is my constant longing and prayer;
Gladly I’ll forfeit all of earth’s treasures,
Jesus, Your perfect likeness to wear.
O to be like You! O to be like You,
Blessed Redeemer,