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Category:
Gay/Lesbian/Bi
Publisher: Joe Cosentino
ISBN-10: 1670377555
Type: Fiction
Pages: 227
Copyright: Feb 1, 2020
ISBN-13: 9781670377555
Price: $4.99 (eBook)
Theatre professor Nicky Abbondanza is directing a musical production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream co-starring his spouse, theatre professor Noah Oliver, their son Taavi, and their best friend and department head, Martin Anderson. When hunky students and faculty in the production drop faster than their tunics and tights, Nicky and Noah will need to use their drama skills to figure out who is taking swordplay to the extreme before Nicky and Noah end up foiled in the forest.
It’s summer at Treemeadow College’s new Globe Theatre, where theatre professor Nicky Abbondanza is directing a musical production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream co-starring his spouse, theatre professor Noah Oliver, their son Taavi, and their best friend and department head, Martin Anderson. With an all-male, skimpily dressed cast and a love potion gone wild, romance is in the starry night air. When hunky students and faculty in the production drop faster than their tunics and tights, Nicky and Noah will need to use their drama skills to figure out who is taking swordplay to the extreme before Nicky and Noah end up foiled in the forest. You will be applauding and shouting Bravo for Joe Cosentino’s fast-paced, side-splittingly funny, edge-of-your-seat entertaining ninth novel in this delightful series. Take your seats. The curtain is going up on star-crossed young lovers, a faerie queen, an ass who is a great Bottom, and murder!
Excerpt
The silver starlight cast its enchanted glow on a forest in Athens, Greece. Faeries in G-strings and garlands made of multicolored flowers bend over the resting Queen of the Faeries as they sing a rousing “It’s All Greek To Me.” A Greek horos turns into a hip shaking Calypso number. After the climax, the exhausted faeries become covered in a puff of smoke, which rapidly increases in volume. The disappearing faeries hack and gasp for air.
“Stop! We aren’t doing Summer and Smoke people.” It’s me, Nicky Abbondanza, PhD, Professor of Play Directing at Treemeadow College, a cozy Edwardian white stone college surrounded by a cozy lake and cozy mountains in a cozy tree-laden town in cozy white church-steepled Vermont. Cozy, huh? I’m tall, with dark hair and long sideburns, emerald eyes, and olive skin thanks to my parents’ genes—which, like Dorothy, live with my folks in Kansas. Thanks to the gym on campus, I’m pretty muscular. My sense of humor has been called snide, snarky, and cocky. Ah, speaking of cocky, I have a nearly foot-long penis. Just thought I’d throw that out there. Well, not literally. However, I have used that little, or should I say not so little, endowment to help me solve some of my previous cases. I’m not a detective…exactly. I’m what cozy mystery readers call an armchair detective or amateur sleuth, having solved eight mass murder cases that stumped local detectives in Alaska, Hawaii, Scotland, and of course at Treemeadow College.
Treemeadow was named after its original founders, gay couple Harold Tree and Jacob Meadow, who are enshrined in statues at the college’s entrance—right under the dive-bomber pigeons. Following in our founder’s bronze footsteps are my best friend and department head, Professor of Theatre Management Martin Anderson, and his longtime husband, Ruben Markinson. Ditto for my hubby, Associate Professor of Acting Noah Oliver, and yours truly. Why am I sitting on an uncomfortable wooden bench watching student technicians repair an overactive smoke machine on the stage above me?
Martin had an idea to build a replica of Shakespeare’s Elizabethan Globe Theatre on a barren piece of land in our college campus. After doing some research, he found a grant from a business in China supporting Global Awareness projects. Incorrectly assuming the grant was to build a Globe Theatre, Martin threatened to hide Ruben’s diapers until Ruben filled out the application. Ruben, the retired CEO of a gay rights organization, as a master grant writer, secured the grant, which will culminate in a visit from the Chinese donors to observe Treemeadow’s progress in “world relations.” Martin’s response to this piece of news was, “Since they don’t speak English, we can tell them the play fosters better global relations.” I explained that many business people in China speak English. Martin retorted, “Most people who speak English don’t understand Shakespeare.”
Since our premiere production in the new space performs in the summertime, we selected A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Martin wanted to set the play in the back room at Republican Party headquarters after they hired male strippers to celebrate the party’s (no pun intended) latest anti-gay legislation. When I, as play director, nixed that idea, Martin pitched a Mormon elders secret initiation meeting, or a seminary shower room during a blackout. I opted instead for the authentic Elizabethan approach, where male actors play all the roles, both male and female characters, just like in the days of Shakespeare. After Martin threatened to give me an eight-a.m. class every semester for the rest of my life, I agreed to let Martin add original songs to the production, rendering our show A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the musical, or as Martin calls it, You Need a Faerie for Love in the End.
Having rehearsed for a month, we are now in tech week. That’s the hallowed time when we put all the elements of the show together—acting, song, dance, costumes, props, sets, music, lighting, special effects—culminating in a nervous breakdown for yours truly.
I am playing Oberon, aptly named King of the Faeries. As for my costume, I can tell you first-hand that G-strings itch, silver satin drapes fall off, cellophane wings poke into people (making fast enemies), and a huge crown gives you a huge headache. My gorgeous husband Noah is Titania, Queen of the Faeries (pun intended). Our adopted son from Hawaii, Taavi Oliver Abbondanza Kapule (try saying that three times fast with your mouth full of poi), threatened to report us to Child Protection Services if I didn’t cast him as Puck, trickster servant to Oberon. At only twelve years old, since our son has been with us, he’s acted in two movies, a Broadway musical, and a ballet. At this point, in order to get Taavi to eat his breakfast, Noah and I need to ask for his autograph. He’s definitely one of the family.
“How’s my faerie king holding up?” Noah sat next to me, looking scrumptious with his marine blue eyes and peaches and cream skin surrounded by a long blond wig. At thirty-four, Noah is seven years younger than me, but who’s counting years? Now that I’m over forty, I am! He hugged me, and our faerie wigs collided—a hazard of the faerie trade.
I rested my head on my husband’s soft shoulder and basked in the scent of his strawberry shampoo. “What time is it?”
“Ten o’clock. Two hours before faeries roam the theatre.”
“Faeries roam the theatre morning, noon, and night.” I glanced around. “Especially this theatre.”
Noah arranged the silver satin woodsy gown around his long legs. “I like playing your faerie queen.” He giggled. “On stage and off.”
“You know I’d have it no other way.”
He nuzzled his face into the fold at my neck. “Tell me about it.”
“You’re the love of my life, the perfect Watson to my Holmes.” We shared a kiss, which brought me back to consciousness.
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