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‘I’m not accusing you; I’m asking you,’ I begin quietly. ‘Did you help Darren get the LSDCATS into the theatre?’
Gibitah’s eyes flash with anger, and I already know the answer. ‘No, I didn’t. I actually care about this play.’
Her words are pointed and sharp, aimed directly at me. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
She scoffs loudly. ‘I know you left the play. That article came out about Zayan and Laiba, and Anushka and David changed our rehearsals to focus on background scenes that weren’t featuring you. But you blocked me. So instead of asking about me, how about I ask why you left?’
I fight against the defensiveness crawling up my veins, trying to think of the best reply.
‘You abandoned us. Even though your understudy is great and whatever, you still left,’ Gibitah continues. ‘You promised that the play would support voices of colour. Would be there to give us opportunities. And then you left. You let … you let me down.’
Shame slams into me, almost forcing me to buckle at the knees. I muster up the courage to continue the conversation. ‘I thought it would be better if I left. I thought the play, you, the cast would be better off with a different lead. I’ve been struggling, Gibitah, with my self-image. I didn’t know where I fitted in this world, in this industry. I thought my insecurity, my doubts, made me a bad lead. A bad person. I didn’t want to burden you with that or poison the play. But I’ve learned that to fit in this world, I must be OK with who I am. I must make a space for myself first, and then for others.’ I infuse my voice with an apology and an earnestness. ‘I promise, Gibitah, I won’t give up like that again. I’ve learned better. Come back to the play; let me explain everything – the whole truth. And then, if you still want to leave, I’ll understand.’
‘I can’t let my one opportunity be squandered,’ Gibitah replies. ‘You leaving showed me that the LSDCATS are secure. Yes, they’re conniving, but their white privilege keeps them secure in this industry. I’ve been a part of their cast for three days, and I already know that. They’re unashamed, Farah. They don’t mind gloating about their underhanded tactics.’ She confirms all my theories with a harsh, pained laugh. ‘They’re the ones who released that snippet of your contract, they’re the ones who broke into the Limelight, but – despite all of that – people will inevitably fill up their theatre seats. Your play is a risk. Being a part of it is a risk.’
‘And being part of the LSDCATS’ play is allowing yourself to be used. It’s tokenism,’ I shoot back, giving her a dose of sheer honesty. ‘You’re going to be their pawn, their weapon, and you’re not going to be valued for what you bring to the table beyond your skin tone. That’s how they’re going to treat you.’ I soften my voice at the sight of the glossy sheen in her eyes. I know she’s in an impossible situation and, like all of us, she’s just trying to make her dreams come true.
‘I can’t promise that everything is going to be perfect with our play, Gibitah. I can’t promise that it will unlock every one of your dreams. But I can promise you that you will be respected by your castmates, that you’ll be treated as a person.’
Gibitah watches me with uncertainty, her gaze flicking to the half-open stage door behind me, and the empty street she can walk down.
‘What do you say?’ I prod softly. ‘Will you trust me one more time?’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Sneaking into the LSDCATS’ theatre was far easier than one would think. Since they were hosting last-minute open auditions for their play, the doors to the theatre were swung wide open for the general public. Eager actors and actresses were made to occupy the theatre seats while waiting for their turn to audition.
That’s how The Tragedies got in – by pretending to abandon their own play.
Zayan and I couldn’t exactly just waltz in here, open audition or not. So we called in Lacey. I’m not sure how she did it, but when we arrived in front of the university gate, we were greeted by a tall security guard. He then took Zayan and I through a series of staircases and back doors before we were deposited at our seats in the balcony. We’re sitting here now, masked by shadows, watching Henry and Lisa host the last-minute auditions.
I lean forward in my seat, making sure not to draw attention to myself, to see the back of Henry’s dark-haired head. He’s sitting beside Lisa, her blonde plait running down the length of her back. Behind the two of them, the theatre is full of people murmuring quietly to one another in anticipation.
Henry and Lisa have gone through an hour of auditions already, and the effort on their part is minimal. They’re only casting these actors and actresses of colour in background roles – trees, marble statues, people in crowds. Lisa gives the critiques, the yeses and nos, while Henry sits there, his minimal replies sounding bored and unimpressed. I glare daggers at the back of his head – why host auditions you don’t even care about? Why give young actors and actresses false hope, only to know you’re going to put zero effort into helping them?
Henry only sits up at full attention once during the auditions, and that’s when The Tragedies take the stage.
‘Well, well. How the tables have turned,’ he says, and just the sound of his voice makes my entire body clench with displeasure. ‘Where are your fearless leaders?’
Anushka’s tone is hard, made of steel. She doesn’t let her eyes flick towards me, doesn’t betray any part of our plan. ‘That’s not why we’re here.’
Henry’s laugh echoes around the theatre. ‘Of course not. Well, it’s unsurprising that they both decided to jump ship. Just as it’s unsurprising that you have all come to be part of our play.’
‘And we’re so happy to have you here,’ Lisa adds, her tone a touch too sweet. ‘In complete honesty, we’ve hosted these auditions for your cast.’
‘How generous of you,’ David deadpans, and Zayan has to hide a smile with his hand.
But I can’t find any humour in this. Not when it’s time to deliver our first blow.
‘You broke into our theatre,’ Nur says, and the energy in the room shifts. The other people in the audience begin to glance at one another, whispers filling the air. My heart races with every second that passes.
‘That’s a weighty accusation to make when you have zero proof,’ Henry scoffs. Lisa nods vigorously.
‘Who said we didn’t have proof?’ David spits out, and from the bag slung across his body he pulls out a folder.
From it, he takes out the note the LSDCATS left on the ruined Limelight stage, along with a thick journal.
‘That’s my property,’ Henry snarls, standing abruptly. There’s an undercurrent of violence to his stance that makes me glad that we have protection and safety from the security guards Lacey has planted around the theatre, just in case anything goes wrong.
