Eli: The Peacock Room

Midway through a cocktail, Eli's table is invaded by a slender, immaculate and rather pretty woman dressed in a modest, yet flattering, suit of pale grey. She sits gracefully but without ceremony or even to ask for permission. Her smile is charming without being seductive or sycophantic. "Mr. Reynolds? I hope you don't mind my intruding like this, but I have a somewhat delicate and urgent matter and I've been told you're the gentleman to ask for assistance."

Eli is silent for a moment.

"Do I know you, lady?" He squints at her, trying to place that face in his memory. "Did we work together or something? Wait, wait. I know. We did that love scene together, right? In that stupid war movie, what was it?" He takes another drink, his brain fuzzily working back through the months. "Honor and Brotherhood. That was it, right?" He takes a closer look at her.

"No, that girl was from Cambodia or Thailand or whatever."

She eyes him mutely for a moment, seeming to be internally debating. Finally, she just sighs. "Mr. Reynolds, I realize this may not be the time to catch you at your most..." she stops before 'sober' and switches out the word, "...astute, but time is somewhat pressing. I need an actor. Immediately. There's a performance going on in less than an hour and I've promised I'd find someone for a minor but vital role. I have the script in my car. You have one monologue and then a few lines following it. For compensation, I can either offer you steady work at fairly decent pay, or a one-time sum of two-thousand dollars. I'd ask that you not decide which you want until after the show."

A hand lifts to wave off an incoming waiter, her eyes staying on Eli. "Please. I'm rather desperate."

"You need an actor, huh?" He smirks and leans forward, eyes struggling to focus. He's not quite drunk, but he is well on his way. Two right turns, a stop light, and he'll be at his destination of inebriation. But the idea of a command performance, with very little time to prepare, extemporaneous. . . well, that just brightens his day. Or night. Whatever time it happens to be.

He stands, unsteadily, but quickly gaining his bearing. He gestures expansively, magnamiously. "Lead the way, my Muse. My public, it seems, awaits."

The woman seems torn between relief that it didn't take much convincing, and worry that Eli is a bit unsteady on his feet. In the end, though, she just nods. "Thank you. My name is Belinda Mills; you're welcome to call me Bel. There's a limo waiting for us just outside. I took the liberty of hiring it."

True to word, there is a white limousine. It's not a stretch, but it's in good condition. However, there doesn't seem to be a driver.

Bel solves that problem promptly after opening the back door for Eli. She, herself, plays chauffeur. The screen between them is kept lowered for ease of communication, and she looks over her shoulder as she settles behind the wheel. "The script is on the seat. There are drinks in the sideboard, but...perhaps you should stick with Coke for the time being?"

"Of course." He rummages about in the sideboard and selects a bottled water. He mutters a few warm-up lines of Shakespeare before addressing the woman. His eyes are still slightly unfocused, the slurring of his words still faint, but noticable.

"What's the score, my dear? Divulge the dark secrets of this little charade." He picks up the script and begins to read it.

The script is a little confusing, written rather stiltedly and without real talent. From what his slightly-drunken mind can gather, it's a faux-Shakespearian tale of politics and family. Bel was right - Eli has one monologue and only two lines after it. Still, there are worse roles he could play.

The limo sails onto I-4 as Belinda answers him. "It's not a charade; this is a legitimate acting troupe and they really are in desperate need of someone to play Thaddeus. I owed them quite a few favors, so they called one in and asked me to find an actor. It wasn't purely luck I found you, but it was fortunate."

Eli puts the script down. High school theater stuff. No problem. Even delightfully tipped as he is.

"What's the crowd like, then? A bunch of parents shivering with anticipation to see their children stumble over melodic syntax? Tuxedos? Snorers?"

He leans forward, obviously enjoying himself.

"Furthermore, my darling, how -did- you find me?"

"I know the Peacock Room is one of your favorite haunts," she says...and does he detect a faint stammer and blush in that unflappable poise? "I'm actually a rather big fan of you, Mr. Reynolds. I think you're woefully undervalued in your field."

They are heading out of Orlando, past Maitland and toward Longwood. "As for the audience, it's a command performance with only a select few invited to attend. You'll actually be performing for two Ambassadors of China. It's quite the opportunity."

Longwood passed, and now the limo takes the exit to Sanford, gliding along 17-92 onto Park Avenue until they hug the road that sweeps around Lake Monroe.

"Here we are," Bel says, and the limo pulls into the long driveway of the Central Florida Zoo.

Woefully undervalued. Yes. He likes the sound of that. A big fan, as well. The mists in his brain clear, his limbs tingling and warming. He's not paying much attention to the path they travel, only occasionally glancing out the window. Landmarks streak by, streetlights are passed.

He spends a few minutes easily memorizing his lines, developing motivations for the character.

As they pull up to their destination, Eli moves to open his door.

"A big fan, eh? You have exceedingly good taste."

Bel is next to him as he exits. She closes his door for him and smiles faintly. "Quite the fan, yes. But, I have to warn you - these actors may not share my opinion. They have a somewhat skewed view when it comes to your...." A pause. "...type."

And she walks toward the zoo's entrance, before veering slightly to a service entrance and knocking softly. "Emmerson? It's Bel. I've brought you a Thaddeus."

The door opens slightly and a gruff voice answers. "Good. The curtain rises in less than half an hour! Get in here, girl."

"My type?" Eli smirks. "Which type is that?" A sudden thought amuses him, and he giggles. He follows the girl to the door, admiring her hand as she raps upon it. She annouces him to this Emmerson, and he slides easily into his Acting Face.

"Yes, Thaddeus has arrived, and he is most excited to sweep away these mere mortals in a tidal wave of thespionic glory." He sweeps into the room magnamiously, preparing for the awe that is surely his.

The service entrance door leads directly into the backstage area of a small outdoor theater, hung with curtains which are currently drawn closed. The lighting is the fluorescent lamps of an open space and, after a moment, Eli realizes that this is a theater in the children’s area of the zoo. It’s fairly easy to surmise that, during regular hours, it’s used for zookeepers to hold performance lectures about animals, bringing them on-stage for the audience of parents and kids. However, there are no zookeepers currently present.

There must be a dozen animals bustling around him – he sees an ostrich, a tiger, a giant Burmese python, a peacock…and many others of all varying species. Each is actually costumed, with tailor-made hats and doublets and even prop swords. The female ‘actors’ have veils and silk sashes, some even bedecked with jewelry. Emmerson, who admitted them, is an appropriately gruff-looking goat and is simply staring at them both, jaw agape.

“A human!?”

The voice thunders from a rather magnificent-looking alligator who is stomp-gliding his way toward them. It’s fairly terrifying, all things considered, but Bel doesn’t seem to have the least inclination to run. Instead, she holds up her hands, supplicating. “Please, Memphis, I only know human actors. And besides, I know you wouldn’t want me to just wander into the woods and get some proletarian snake or squirrel who wouldn’t know Hamlet from Henry V. This is Eli Reynolds. He’s a genuine thespian and, human though he may be, he’s professional and good at his job.”

The alligator (hm, or crocodile, as she did call him ‘Memphis’, an Egyptian name), seems unmoved. “This is a critical performance, Miss Mills! The ambassadors won’t be here long and we must impress them with just how civilized our country can be. And here you’ve brought some poor, lowly, barely-evolved species – not to insult you, Kent,” he suddenly offers as an aside to a stately and lordly-looking silverback gorilla sitting off in the wings, who tips Memphis an forgiving salute and incline of his great head, “being related and such…but nevertheless! He’ll botch the whole thing. It’ll be a disaster!”

A zoo. Talking animals. Prejudice? For nearly the first time in his life, Eli is at a loss for words. Well, almost.

"Now see here, Memphis. I have never botched a performance. Not once. Not even when my Juliet threw up all over me in my tenth grade play." He glows with pride, drawing himself up to his full five feet and eleven inches. "I. DELIVER. These ambassadors will weep when they see the shining radiance of my performance."

Having disgorged his torrent of hubris, he looks around his fellow cast members again. Animals. Of course. Why not? He'd might as well hit the nadir of his career now, before he's too old and broken to have a slew of good stories. He leans over to Bel to whisper in her ear.

"Animals, my dear? That talk? You'd let me know if I was dreaming, right? Furthermore, what sort of ambassador watches plays performed by a barnyard brotherhood?"

"Very impotant ones," replies Belinda solemnly. "Now, you're going to have to made do with the costumes at hand, but I think there are some pieces that might work."

Memphis is watching all this and obviously digesting Eli's speech before answering. Finally he clears his throat. "Erm, ahm, yes. Well, Reynolds, if Miss Mills vouches for you and you're as determined as you claim, I suppose this might not be entirely a disaster." He then swivels his body around and calls to the rest of the company. "Places! Places, everyone!"

And the animals scuttle and scamper to get into the wings, while the ostrich and a rather dignified-looking zebra arrange themselves on the stage.

After a moment, the curtain rises. Eli can see, from his vantage point, that the audience numbers only two - a pair of panda bears sitting imperiously on a bench, center-front. One of them fans herself gingerly with a red paper fan. Both are attentive and silent as the play begins.

Eli addresses Memphis. "Good sir, fear you not! Eli Reynolds will elevate this production to Shakespearean levels!"

At the alligator's command, Eli places himself in his proper position. He takes a few deep breaths, regulating his breathing. Disappear into the role, Mr. Reynolds. BECOME Thaddeus.

At the rise of the curtain, Eli cocks an eyebrow. Two panda bears? No worries, they look to be of good taste. They bear the haughty attitude of the privileged. Play to them, Reynolds. Make your Thaddeus THEIR Thaddeus. Sweep them.

He takes a moment to adopt a vaguely bearish voice and posture and readies himself.

The play begins. It is a derivative Shakespeare knock-off, but it's not awful. Lots of posturing and pomp, lots of strutting and Acting-with-a-captial-A.

The second act sees Eli's entrance, and he begins the scene. The pandas are attentive and seem absolutely delighted.