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“Did everyone get a chance to look at the email I sent,” Chris asked, looking at a clipboard binder he was holding, a bright blue highlighter tucked behind his ear. He was vaguely aware of a chair behind him, but didn’t care to sit down just yet.
“Aye,” William said, leaning back in his seat. “Weren’t yet sure, though, on what we’re gonnae be showing is what you said.”
“I vote for Moonshine: An Historical Tale,” Max said, his arm around Sandra’s shoulders next to him.
“I think that Mid-autumn Afternoon’s Musing would be better,” Robert protested.
“You just want to do another Colin Shakespeare because Chris wouldn’t let you speak in the last one,” Sandra rolled her eyes.
“Untrue, and it was Simon!”
“Oh, this is great,” Genevieve said quietly to Henley, her eyes dancing with laughter. “I love these meetings.”
“Ten quid on Chris biting through his pencil this time.” Henley whispered back, eyes not leaving the director.
“What do you have against Chris, again?” Dennis leaned in, genuine confusion on his face.
Henley glared at the man in question. “He knows what he did.”
(In fact, Chris had taken Henley’s parking space on accident several times over the past winter. He also called Trev a moron, and even though Trev has forgiven him, Henley hasn’t. The techies have a running bet on when that will happen, with Gen having said when Chris is on his deathbed and William has money on sometime next month, near Henley’s birthday. Trevor is intensely suspicious of what Will may or may not be planning with Chris. Henley is, as far as the techies can tell, unaware of the pool.)
“What if we were to write our own play?” Vanessa said, interrupting Sandra and Robert’s argument, that now for whatever reason also included Jonathan.
“No, we’re not doing that,” Chris shut down Nessa’s idea immediately.
“What? Why?” Sandra asked, her head whipping around to Chris. “I think that would be a great idea.”
“Oh,” Vanessa smiled, clearly pleased with Sandra’s approval of her idea. “Thank you, Sandra.”
“I was sabotaged by Dennis during my play at the Festival,” she continued, frowning at Dennis briefly before looking back at Chris.
“Oh,” Vanessa said flatly.
“We aren’t doing that,” Chris started, “because the last time we had our own creative works performed, someone shot me.”
Everybody’s eye turned to Robert. He looked around and then rolled his eyes. “The rule of Chekov’s Gun is to have a gun.”
“But you didn’t need to–” Dennis began.
“We all make mistakes and we all learn and grow as a person,” Robert cut him off, determined to not have this argument again.
Trevor motioned for Chris to keep going, and after a moment of Chris watching Robert with a frown, he did.
“Now, so far today at this meeting, the only two options that have had any support—of the list of six I had sent you all—have been Moonshine and Mid-autumn. Would anyone else like to vote on any of the remaining four, or would we like to choose between the two?” As he spoke, Chris seemed to relax slightly, the tension leaving the corners of his eyes.
“Oh fuck,” Henley muttered to Gen. “I owe you ten quid now.”
“It was a pleasure,” Gen said back, victory radiating from her.
“I think we should consider Doctor Frog,” Dennis said, his eyes darting to Max and then back to Chris.
“Doctor Frog?” Chris asked, looking down at his clipboard. “That isn’t on the list.”
“It was Max’s play,” Jonathan said, “from Harper’s Locket.”
Chris thought for a moment. “Oh! Right. That one.” He looked at Max, who was torn between looking pleased that Dennis brought this up and embarrassed that he had.
“Ooh, I second that,” Gen announced, sitting up in her chair. “I thought it was very funny.”
“It was only three lines! And one of them was a stage direction!” Chris protested.
“It was dross,” Robert reiterated his original opinion.
“No one asked you,” Sandra said, defending her love.
“I think we should do Doctor Frog,” Henley said, joining the wider discussion for the first time that afternoon.
Trevor leaned forward towards William. “We have got to stop forgetting to bring popcorn to these meetings.”
Will nodded vehemently. “Ought to write it down in our phones or summat, hey?”
“Guess this sad bag of wine gums will have to do.” Trevor pulled the small bag of wine gums from his backpack, taking care to not crinkle the plastic too loudly.
Luckily for him and Will, Genevieve’s discussion had turned into another full-blown row, this time with Chris involved. Their shouting covered up the noise of Trevor and Max digging into the sweets.
“Next time, popcorn,” Trevor vowed.