Voice of Reason

The multi-layer chocolate cake glistens under the transparent glass atop the elevated crystal pedestal; a pretentious, over-the-top display for such a modestly set supper of red wine and a pack of Virginia Slims: weak supporting characters of tonight’s performance atop the antique oak table overpowering the small dining room where this scene is set. The chocolate cake at the center, the obvious star of the show, front and center amidst an otherwise lacking dinner spread. It has been prepared with culinary precision, and intentionally placed as the centerpiece.

The doorbell rings. No answer. The cake waits in the dimly lit dining room surrounded by an otherwise dark apartment. The sound of a hair dryer out of sight abruptly stops.

The Voice pierces the silence of the apartment after three knocks at the front door.

“Come on in!”

The door opens slowly; a wide-eyed young couple enters, reluctant to step inside. They hold hands, glancing at each other uncertainly before stepping in. They seem relieved that for now, they are alone in the dining room to whisper secretly between each other.

“I will be right out! Make yourselves at home!”

The Voice is cheerier the second time it pierces the evening, and the couple relaxes noticeably upon hearing it. They continue to whisper and glance around the room.

“I am so thrilled you BOTH came this evening!”

The Voice emerges as an attractive blonde with bouncy short ringlets that dance furiously with each neurotic jerk of her head; her voluptuous body donning a revealing red cocktail dress, inappropriate for such a small dinner party. She obnoxiously presses her bosom into the space between the couple to reach for her Virginia Slims on the table, causing them to abruptly cease their discrete hand holding, and move halfway around the perimeter of the table to meet each other again at the opposite side. The blonde bombshell trainwreck takes her seat at the table where the couple sat just a few moments ago.

An awkward pause hangs heavy like an unpleasant aroma.

“Thanks for being so cool about all of this, Candace. Bruce and I have both been worried about coming over tonight...after all that happened.”

“What do you mean, Sugar?! I would NEVER jeopardize our friendship, or our Actor’s Guild for that matter. You are both like family to me, and we have been through SO much. I mean honestly… you realize we have been a part of the same group for 10 shows over the last 4 years! I will always remember fondly Bruce and I being cast as Benedict and Beatrice in MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.”

The Voice softens. Candace holds nervous eye contact between Alison and Bruce.

“What an ironic play to recall on a day like this. That’s really what this is...Much Ado About Nothing.”

The Voice chuckles. Candace outstretches a hand towards Alison in a dramatic embrace of her cheek, which is met with an awkward glance, but is received nonetheless. Alison smiles feebly, and begins to speak softer than The Voice of her female counterpart.

“I was relieved to hear that you were no longer angry, and that you were ready to move forward. The Guild depends on it. You are a valuable member, Candace. I know mine and Bruce’s decision to be together hasn’t been easy for you, after all the years you shared in this apartment together. Bruce will always remember and respect your time together, and so will I.”

The Voice disconnectedly chortles, as if it was something altogether separate from the person projecting it. Candace uncorks the wine bottle and slides two glasses across the table, clanking empty stemless goblets to the crystal cake pedestal, and then hurriedly pours deep dark liquid adjacent to the chocolate frosting, which witnesses the awkward movements from inside the freshly polished glass.

“Don’t be silly, Sugar!”, The Voice gushes in a contrived southern drawl. Candace’s hand brushes suggestively across her plunging cleavage, flashing red flags of freshly painted nail polish.

“Bruce was never going to give me what I need in this life. No offence, Brucey, but frankly I am relieved it’s all over, and that you are both happy and here this evening.”

Another painful pause.

The Voice oozes optimism.

“NOW we can ALL move forward and focus on what is REALLY important.”

Bruce stares inquisitively at Candace from the other side of the cake. He has been silent until now. He rolls his big dreamy brown eyes and scoffs; a sound also drowned out by the volume of The Voice; his silent scrutiny is unconvinced.

“That isn’t what you screamed at us when you threw my clothes out of the apartment...right after you set them on FIRE.”

“Bygones, Sugar. Bygones and ancient history.”

The Voice was consoling.

Candace waves nonchalantly, flicking her red nails for emphasis. She imagines herself as Princess Di; collected and compassionate, despite the betrayal of the royal family in their contemptuous adultery and deception.

“You waited until Alison and I arrived before you threw my burning clothes out the window, Candace! You nearly burned US! And it isn’t ancient history...we’re talking just 4 weeks ago.”

Candace allows the injustice to sink and settle in silence for a moment as she embraces a long and sensuous drag of her Virginia Slim...all that Bruce drudges up this evening in his rudeness and his insolence.

Candace imagines herself as Maggie in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof as she melancholically stares out the window; the same window with which she had previously relieved her apartment of Bruce’s burning clothes. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a long cigarette holder and a matching lighter; the same lighter she had used to set his stupid polos ablaze. What kind of actor wears polos anyways she muses to herself with a half smile between drags.

“Since when do you even smoke?” Bruce sneers.

“Since you left me and I needed something different to put my mouth on.”

The Voice stabs with a swift quip of articulated rage that is stopped only by the butt of the cigarette.

“OK, I think we are going to call it a night, Candace. Thanks for the wine.” Alison shifts her weight at the creaky oak table and jabs Bruce in the ribs to move with her towards the door.

“No, please! Don’t leave. I’m sorry. I have put a lot of thought into our dinner this evening. I truly want us ALL to move on and open a door to what comes next. We have always been close; as a guild, as friends. I just can’t bear the thought of that being over. Please give me another chance.”

The Voice sobbed.

Candace had gone to her knees in her ridiculous party dress, blocking their exit, and was now grasping their hands in hers in an over-the-top attempt to convince them to stay. She needed them to feel sorry for her...for all they had done… and to stay a while longer.

“PLEASE stay for dinner”

The Voice pleaded.

“I baked Bruce’s favorite: triple chocolate cake with fudgy icing! Candace’s red fingernails pointed exaggeratedly at the confection that tied them all together...the one chocolatey witness to all that had yet to transpire.

“I’m not exactly hungry, Candace.” Bruce sneers, refusing to succumb to the manipulation infiltrating his evening.

Alison strokes his hand and meets his eyes longingly. The dark hardness in his eyes melts and he understands her meaning. They will enjoy a slice of cake with poor crazy Candace and then leave together on good terms, strengthening both the Guild and their relationship for having faced her. They had spoken at length about their plan for the evening: to settle all bad blood so that Candace would be easier to manage, for the WHOLE GUILD to work with on a daily basis. Sure she was hurt, and it was affecting her work in her current leading role; but her initial hellish fury that had exploded after the breakup had cooled down considerably. Just a little while longer and the three would share a peace offering; Candace WAS an excellent pastry chef, and appreciating her efforts in this way would surely alleviate her suffering further still.

“Then I’ll just get you a cup of coffee while Alison and I enjoy our dessert for dinner, Bruce.”

The Voice sulked from the kitchen. Candace put the water on to boil, allowing them to stare at each other, unhindered by her presence for the moment.

Another pause.

“I would love a slice also, Candace. Thank you.” Bruce speaks flatly without breaking his gaze from Alison’s approving smile and sparkling eyes of adoration for him.

“It’s a fine china kinda night!...don’t ya think?”

The Voice adopted that southern drawl again. Candace clanks forks and fragile lacey plates on the oak table next to the cake pedestal before ceremoniously lifting the spotless glass cover, like a gourmet chef revealing a breathtaking dish.

The cake glistens and sparkles in its dark richness at finally being exposed to the open air of the evening. Candace slips a large butcher knife down the middle, slowly and carefully maneuvering a large slice of ooey gooey decadence, dwarfing the tiny white plate with its massive majestic darkness.

The 3 remain silent as each slice is served.

“It’s delicious, Candace. Thank you for dessert for dinner.” Bruce is noticeably more relaxed. He licks his china plate clean of the abundant icing, not leaving a spec of the sticky brown on the delicate white dinnerware.

“I have always known it was your favorite, Sugar. Your insatiable sweet tooth is how I hooked you in the first place.”

The Voice jabs. Candace’s eyes shoot darts at Alison, springing her ringlets into a frightening dance around her defined and protruding cheekbones.

Alison narrows her eyes at Candace, picking in silent disgust at her slice of cake.

“It’s so SWEET!” Bruce gushes as he helps himself greedily to another giant slice.

“Just like you, Sugar. You were always sweeter than you ever meant to be.”

The Voice chuckles menacingly. Candace leans closer to Bruce from across the table, edging her breasts closer in proximity to him while eyeing his mouth as it masticates the darkness it feeds upon.

The women both eye Bruce with pointed daggers as he continues to devour his 2nd slice with oblivious gusto.

“Bruce, Let’s go. It’s getting late.” Alison seethes, sliding her uneaten cake towards the middle of the table.

“Hold on, babe. I need to hit the can. Just a small case of the bubble guts.”

“Well I should think so. You certainly HELPED YOURSELF.” Embarrassed and angry, Alison crosses her arms impatiently waiting for Bruce to return

The Voice has gone suddenly silent. Candace slinks in the shadows watching the events unfold. After Bruce has vanished behind a locked bathroom door, The Voice goes in for the kill.

“Beautiful, isn’t he? Like a chiseled marble Adonis. Certainly not too bright, but quite the catch for the likes of a little mouse like you.”

“Excuse me?” Alison is taken aback and uncertain of how she should respond.

Candace takes a giant bite of the chocolate cake, and smiles her black teeth at Alison.

“The secret way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, Sugar. And in this case, “Sugar” had nothing to do with the sweetness that won him over again. Did you know that Antifreeze is 5 times sweeter than sugar?”

Alison’s face drains of color and she springs up from the table, screaming for Bruce as she hurries to the bathroom. She cannot open the locked door.

The Voice speaks as Candace continues to licks her own plate and gestures towards Alison’s uneaten cake.

“You might as well, join us, Sugar. No sense in being DESSERTED at dinner.”

The Voice explodes in laughter, drowning out Alison’s screaming tears as she cries in vain for Bruce to open the door.