"Well," he said awkwardly. "I guess this is it."

His mother caught him in a strong embrace. "Good luck," she said. "I love you." Mindful of eyes that might be watching, she kept her kiss a chaste one, the merest brush on his cheek.

His father shook his hand, as did Jeremy. Yasna gave him a careful nod.

Sarah punched him on the shoulder.

“Break a leg, boyo."

Althea stood aside as Maria came forward. "Te amo," she whispered, tears in her eyes. Then his arms were around her in an embrace which had nothing to do with passion, but everything to do with love. She kissed him; one long, deep kiss which held the promise of thousands of tomorrows to come, then stepped away.

"I Love you," he answered. He took them all in with his eyes. Family, friends, and lovers. He opened his mouth. "There is too much to say.

And not enough time. Thank you. Thank you for everything." With a Last look, he squared his shoulders and stepped inside.

“Whooo," Frank Pendleton whistled. "Who was that gorgeous brunette girl

I saw you making out with, Sunderman? Have you been holding out on us?

I thought you were single."

Alex looked up in the mirror, to where the man who would be playing

Brabantio stood behind him. "I was," he said. He let the silence drag out, then grinned lecherously, playing for the watching crowd.

“But I'm not anymore. Her name's Maria.”

“Well, good for you," Frank replied, flopping down in the makeup chair next to his. He was already in costume, but had his hair tied back.

“Jen, honey, aren't you done with this guy yet? Curtain is in thirty minutes."

Jen Bosler, who served as their makeup artist, frowned at Frank.

"Almost," she replied, examining her work. "Alex, what do you think?"

“I just wish you woulld let me use a mustache," he said. "How can I get into character if I can't twirl it like Snidely Whiplash?"

“I'm sure you'll manage," Dartanon Burfict, who played Othello, walked into the room. "God, what did I do to deserve such an ugly co-star?

Jen, can't you saw off that nose or something? This is Shakespeare, not a fucking production of Cyrano de Bergerac."

"Get bent, you scene-stealing hack," Alex replied.

“Raving egomaniac."

“Do you want me to write down your lines for you? I'm sure they'll come in useful when you forget them half-way through your first scene."

“Just remember," Dartanon said with a wide, toothy grin, "that you are a member of an inferior class. You know. White people. It's not your fault," he continued, shaking his head sadly.