Paranormal/Futuristic
What Dreams May Come
By Sylvia
Aug 18, 2007, 07:22

The strident voice of Marshall Quinn, the director of the Carlisle Town Playhouse, echoed in the empty theater. On the stage milled thirty or so starry-eyed performers there to audition for the summer season's opening play, an original musical based on the legend of El Gato, the Cat. Ebony be-wigged senoritas and mustachioed El Gatos fandangoed and slashed around the stage to the clicking of ineptly played castanets.

"Our El Gato hopefuls please come forward."

Four men put down their swords to step to the edge of the stage. In the darkened auditorium, the composer, Martin Hernandez and the lyricist and librettist, Shelly Goldblum, viewed the contenders with mutually shared groans.

"Shellita, is there one man under the age of fifty up there?" Marty grimaced with disappointment.

"Nope. And not a one under two hundred and fifty pounds, I think."

"Can they at least sing?"

"Don't bet on it."

The howling that commenced a few minutes later confirmed their worst fears.

"Damn, we need a hero, Shelly!"

"Where's El Gato when we need him?" Shelly grinned and wrung her hands in mock dismay.

As if she'd conjured him up by saying so, a new figure strode onto the stage, cutting through the performers huddled in the rear. El Gato number three had just finished murdering The Impossible Dream and in the deathly silence following the musical execution, the click of the new man's boot heels sounded like castanets.

That this performer was undeniably male was clear. He was clad all in black -- t-shirt, jeans and boots. Slim-hipped and with lean muscled arms, he reminded Shelly of a flamenco dancer. His shoulder-length hair was slightly curly and the color of deep, dark chocolate. And he was wearing a mask.

"Dios mio," Marty whispered. "He's got a mask on!"

"Pretty obvious, but effective." Shelly nodded. "I've gotta admit, though, he sure isn't old, fat and balding!"

Moving with the lithe grace of a panther, he walked over to Tony Blake, their accompanist and handed him some music. Shelly heard the indrawn hiss of air as their choreographer, Teresa Menendez, devoured the new man's suppleness.

Tony looked at the music, nodded and the masked man joined the rest of those coming to audition.

One more El Gato came center stage and demolished The Music of the Night.

"Any other people interested in El Gato?" Marshall called out.

Stepping forward, the masked man nodded.

"Your name and your audition form? You did fill out the form?"

"My apologies. If I am given the part I will fill out the form later."

Somewhat taken aback, Marshall merely nodded. The lilting Spanish accent and clear, carrying voice convinced him that it wasn't worth making a scene that might cause their only real candidate for the lead to take a hike.

"Your name, at least please."

"Rafael."

A slightly nervous giggle ran through the theater. Rafael was the name of El Gato's alter ego.

"Rafael, it is. You'll be singing?"

"Besame Mucho. Forgive me, but I did not prepare the piece. I will have to look at the music. Your Senorita Perez gave me the song. She said it would be acceptable."

Shelly turned to Marty and gasped. "Senorita Perez? 'Picky Perez'? Helped him? Let him in without a dotted 'i' and crossed 't' audition form?"

"Shh. He's going to sing."

Holding a copy of the music in his hand, the masked man burnt the hearts of every female to a cinder as he torched the love song. He sang in beautiful, pure Spanish. Every word was caressed. Every note was kissed -- hot, deep and open mouthed. His baritone was like aged sherry and just as potent.

"Hot damn, Marty, we've found him! If he can act half as good as he sings...."

Shelly's triumphant words crashed through the silence after the last notes died away. Spontaneous applause rushed in to fill the awkward gap. Marshall's voice cut across the noise, capturing everyone's attention.

"We'll take a break and see the Carmelas next. Rafael, could you come here, please?"

Marshall motioned the mysterious masked man off-stage to the auditorium. Jumping down lightly, he followed to where Marty, Shelly and Teresa were seated.

Marty grinned. "Well, boys and girls, I don't think I need to tell you that we've found our El Gato."

Marty introduced Shelly and Teresa and invited the stranger to join them.

"Where are you from, Rafael?" Shelly asked. "Where have you performed?"

"I am from Spain originally and the performing I have done has been in Mexico."

Shelly nodded. "I see. You have a very good voice, Senor...?"

"Cantrell. Rafael Cantrell."

"Rafael." Marshall offered a sheaf of papers stapled together. "Here's a script. I'd like you to look at this scene on page thirty-five. Let me set it up for you. You've already met Carmela earlier that day in your persona as El Gato. Now you're disguised as Felipe, the kindly, old gardener. Carmela is revealing her impure thoughts to you. You're torn between wanting to hear more and having to chastise her. Through it all, you have to restrain yourself from revealing your identity." Marshall turned to Shelly. "Shelly, you wrote the dialogue, how about going over the scene with Rafael, ok?"

Shelly hesitated. For some reason the idea of doing the scene with him made her nervous.

This is ridiculous. I just met him. I don’t know why I can’t do this. I can do this.

"Sure, Marsh. Rafael, do you need a few minutes to prepare?"

"No. I believe I know what he would feel. Whenever you are ready, Senorita."

"Shelly. Call me Shelly -- por favor." She grinned.

And Rafael smiled in return.

A hush filled the auditorium as Shelly and Rafael returned to the stage. He graciously gave her a boost onto the empty platform and Shelly felt an electric thrill run through her. Turning serious, she looked at the pages of dialogue in front of her and began the scene. She really didn't need the script -- after all, she knew each word by heart.

"Felipe. I didn’t expect to see you here in the gardens so late at night."

Rafael responded in the character of the old man, disguising his strong, young voice with a quavering aged one.

"And you, little one? Isn’t it late for you to be out here alone in the moonlight?"

"I couldn’t sleep. Oh, Felipe, I have met someone -- someone dangerous."

"Dangerous, my child? Is he also evil?"

"No! No, I don't think so. He was so...gallant to me. So brave."

"Tell me what happened."

"He saved the horses from running away with the carriage when I went for my morning drive'"

"You went alone, without your driver? That was very foolish."

Shamefaced, Shelly/Carmela looked down at her hands.

"I know, but when I lived in Spain I drove my own carriage on my family’s property. I had to escape from the confinement that my uncle has placed me under. I couldn’t wait for that man who works for my uncle. I drove out into the countryside. All at once a rabbit frightened the horses and they ran. I feared for my life. Then a man rode up on a stallion black as night. I didn’t see his face until he had the horses under control. When he turned, I saw his mask and I fainted. Later, when I awoke, I was leaning against a tree in a sheltered spot near the creek. He had taken the scarf from my neck and moistened it. He was patting my face when I opened my eyes to find him bending over me. And then..."

"And then, my child?"

"And then he unbuttoned the top buttons of my blouse and touched me!"

"This is most outrageous! He molested you?"

"No, no. He merely cooled my flesh with the dampened scarf."

"So far he has not acted too badly. And who could blame him for wishing to touch you?" Here Rafael's voice deepened and he drew closer to Shelly. Taking up her hand in his, he began to fondle it. In a soft, yet carrying voice, he continued the scene.

"Is your skin not as soft as the down of a swan? Is the color of your face not like the blush tipped rose and does it not have a scent as heavenly? Does your slender wrist not beg to be kissed?" He drew her hand up to his lips. Shelly could feel his breath on her skin. His voice resonated like the sound of a bell. "Does your palm not yearn to be tasted?" She felt the tip of his tongue moistly stroke the inside of her hand. Like her character, she shuddered in ecstasy. Slowly, reverently, he placed his hand on her blouse. Then, audaciously abandoning the script, he lightly caressed the soft sweep of her cheek.

"Forgive him, mi alma."

He dropped his hand and ended the dialogue.

"Bravo, Rafael, bravo!" Teresa's voice rang out. The theater echoed with the spontaneous applause of everyone in the auditorium.

Shelly started. She had been so lost in the scene, she had closed her eyes. Now she opened them half expecting to see the hacienda's moonlit gardens.

As Rafael gracefully acknowledged the applause, Shelly gathered up her scattered wits.

"Let's get Carmela cast so we can get this show on the road. Carmelas, onstage." Marshall's directorial tone brought her attention back completely.

The first actress stepped up to the piano. As typical for a community theater, the women were somewhat better than the men. Two of the five Carmelas were possibilities, but number six was perfect.

She was an ethereal, petite blonde with an angelic face. She moved well through the little dance routine that Teresa had choreographed. The part seemed to fit her to perfection.

Shelly turned to Rafael who had taken the seat next to her after their scene. Although he no longer touched her, she continued to react to him like the unschooled maiden in her play. She didn't need to look at him to respond to the aura she felt emanating from him. Now she forced herself to speak.

"She looks perfect for the part, Rafael. What do you think?"

"That outward perfection can conceal a marred soul." His mouth slanted downward as he gazed intently at the stage.

Shelly was taken aback by his response. "That almost sounds like a line from my play."

He shrugged his shoulders dismissively and returned his attention to Carmela number six.

Her song selection was a piece by Bizet with a Spanish flavor. Although it was sung in French, Ouvre Ton Coeur, was thought to have been a melody dropped from "Carmen". Carmela number six's voice matched her face -- beautiful. The cadenza was tossed out with bravura and a coquettish flip of her hair. The applause that greeted her last notes was thunderous.

"I do believe we have our Carmela." Shelly smiled happily to Rafael.

Surprisingly, his face was shuttered. His amber eyes revealed nothing, like darkened windows. "Do not be so quick to believe everything you see."

"What on earth do you mean by that, Rafael?"

His response to her question was restrained. "I will reserve my judgment until later."

"Don't wait too long. Marshall's bringing her down to see us."

Moving as regally as a queen, Carmela number six led her courtiers. Marshall and Tony trailed behind her, almost ridiculous in their obsequiousness.

"Shelly, Rafael, this is Mercedes Guzman."

As he peered closely at the magnetic blonde, Rafael's eyes narrowed to piercing stilettos and he scowled darkly.

"Charmed, I am sure." Mercedes raised her hand to him as if she expected it to be kissed. He gazed at it as if it were a viper and ignored her offering, leaving her to drop it awkwardly to her side. Regaining her composure, she turned to Shelly and gushed. "I am so excited to be considered for the role, Ms. Goldblum. Do you think I shall fit the part?"

Shelly decided to be objective. "Let's have you act out a scene and see how it goes, okay?"

Handing her a script, she picked out a scene in the second act. "Let me set up the action. Rafael has been captured and is in his cell. He believes you have betrayed him. You haven't, of course. It was your cousin, Isabella. You protest your innocence, but he doesn't believe you and reputes you. You beg him to reconsider, but he spits in your face. You wipe the spit off and then segue into a solo number that reveals your love for him and reiterates your innocence. Got it?"

"Give me a moment to get into the role. It's a little hard to remember being..." She smiled and moistened her lips. "Innocent."

Shelly frowned. "Let me know when you're ready."

As Mercedes looked over the pages, Shelly watched as her face, a combination of seductive and heavenly beauty, became even more angelic.

"Ready."

"Let's have you on stage, Rafael, Mercedes." Marshall escorted Mercedes onto the stage and left the two performers.

Alone on the starkly lit platform, the two spoke their lines.

"Rafael, you must believe me. I would never betray you."

"Puta!" He snarled. "When did you plan it? When I lay in your bed, sleeping so peacefully, after that first time?"

He grabbed Mercedes' wrist. Shelly could see that he appeared to be tightening his grip. He dragged Mercedes closer to him.

"No, no, Rafael. I love you."

Shelly cocked her head. Mercedes was reading the lines incorrectly for Carmela -- she sounded as if she were lying.

"Love." Rafael sneered. "You mean lust. If I did not feel your innocence when we were in bed...but then there are many ways to remain intact yet still be a whore."

"You cur!" Mercedes' hand sprang out to slap his face, then fell as she regained her control and returned to the original lines.

"But I love you. How can you say this to me?"

Shelly was mesmerized. Mercedes was not Carmela. She seemed like... Isabella?

"How can you lie like that?"

"I love you, Rafael. I shall always love you." Mercedes stepped nearer to him and a tear rolled down her porcelain cheek.

"Liar!" And he spat her full in the face.

Mercedes gasped, whirled and ran off into the wings.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Marty strode onto the stage, stiff with anger.

"Do you know what you did, you jerk?" Marshall demanded. "Apologize to her."

Shelly stood mute. It seemed incredible but it appeared that only she and Rafael knew that the woman who had spoken those lines had been playing in the character of Isabella. She waited for Rafael to collect himself. His accent thickened with emotion, he drew himself up and bowed briefly to the company.

"I ask you to forgive me. I lost myself in the role. I shall offer Senorita Guzman my apologies and beg her forgiveness."

Shelly spoke, her voice calm.

"Let's call it a night, everyone. I'll take Rafael to the lobby and we'll find Mercedes. We'll cast Isabella, the Alcade and Rafael's mother tomorrow. We'll do call backs for the smaller parts Wednesday."

"Sounds good to me." Marshall nodded in agreement. "Okay, everybody?"

No one was in the mood to hang around after the emotionally charged scene. Gathering up her script and her bag, Shelly walked with Rafael to the hall.

"The ladies room is back here. That's hopefully where she went."

"Shelly."

He touched her hand and she paused as that same electric charge ran through her, and they continued toward the hall.

"I apologize to you again. Your dialogue was remarkable -- I lost myself in it. How did you know..." his voice trailed off.

Shelly stopped. "What do you mean 'how did I know'? How did I know what?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "What happened. It was as if you'd been there."

For a moment Shelly said nothing. Then, as if silently struggling with herself and losing the battle, she responded.

"Like everything else I've written for the play -- it came to me in a dream. I visited Capistrano earlier this year and found a manuscript in a used bookstore. It was a diary of a young girl, Carmela. I realized that she was telling the story of El Gato. Between the covers of the book I found this beautiful medallion."

She slipped a gold chain over her head. Dangling from it was the half of a gold coin with a hole bored in it. She held it out to him and he grasped it almost reverently.

"When I began wearing it to bed I started dreaming. The diary was very sketchy, like she'd written it in haste. My dreams fleshed out the story. I'm a songwriter -- I naturally felt the urge to create songs for what I had dreamed. Then the rest of the play came to me."

Shelly gazed intently at Rafael to gauge his reaction. She watched as he continued to hold the coin, caressing it. He handed it back to her with a great show of reluctance. To her amazement, she saw no condescension or disbelief in his face.

"Come on." She sighed. "Let me see if Mercedes is in the ladies room. I'll try to calm her down so you can apologize to her."

The door to the restroom swung open silently. She could hear Mercedes angrily talking out loud.

"Idiot! To insult me like that! What does he know of a real woman? He was so drugged the night I slipped into his bed, he would have made love to anyone!"

What is she talking about? Shelly decided that she really didn't have time to find out. She wanted to get home and try to explore her strange reaction to Rafael, a much more enjoyable prospect. She cleared her throat and called out. "Mercedes, is that you?"

"Si, Shelly. Just a moment."

Her makeup back in place, Mercedes sauntered away from the mirror, her face once more a mask.

"Listen, Mercedes, Rafael is really sorry. He got carried away. He would like to apologize."

For a moment, Mercedes' veneer cracked and Shelly could see the hatred blazing in her eyes. A second later, it was gone as if she'd imagined it.

"For the good of the show, I will accept his apologies, but don't expect me to rehearse with him."

"Wait a minute, you'll have to..."

"I will only rehearse here. No extra private rehearsals, no staying late."

Any other time, Shelly would have said, forget this, and recast, but everyone loved her in the role and she was the most assured on the stage. She took a deep breath. "Well, okay. But that means you'll be working with me most of the time. I'm pretty superfluous now, so I'll
be able to give you both plenty of attention. Come on, Rafael's in the lobby."

Letting the smaller woman lead, Shelly followed her into the hall.

Rafael straightened up as he saw the women hurrying toward him. He could not help but compare the two of them. To his eyes, the blonde beauty of Mercedes was pale and lifeless. Shelly's vibrant auburn curls and lithe, slim figure was full of life. The purity that was inherent in her soul shone in her eyes. In the depths of his soul, he recognized the spirit of his beloved Carmela in Shelly. He sneered inwardly as he gazed at Mercedes. That one, she was still evil, still Isabella.

And I believe she knows who I am. Somehow I will find out how much she knows.

"You have something to say to me, Rafael?" Mercedes raised one eyebrow imperiously.

"I apologize, Senorita Guzman for spitting in your face. It will not happen again."

"Very well, I accept your apology. It is quite a long way to my home. You will excuse me if I don't linger." With a curt nod, she stalked out of the building, the distant slamming of a door announcing her departure.

Shelly turned to Rafael with a wry smile on her lips. "Do you need a ride, Rafael?"

"No. I need a dinner companion. Are you free, Shelly?"

Her first instinct was to say no. He was too dangerous to her peace of mind. But perhaps that was what she needed -- someone to disturb her orderly existence. Recklessly, she threw away her chance to escape. "Yes, yes I am."

He grinned.

"I am not that familiar with the area. I shall leave the choice up to you."

"Fine. And, Rafael, I think you can take off the mask now. It helped get our attention, but I don't think it's necessary anymore."

He laughed ruefully at himself. "You're right. There really is no need to remain hidden."

He quickly untied the knot above his ponytail and unmasked.

Shelly gasped.

He stood there -- El Gato! Just as she pictured him in her dreams. He was Rafael Dominguez come to life.

Shelly realized she had been staring, but for how long she didn't know.

Rafael returned her gaze steadily and seemed not a bit disconcerted by her actions. He touched her hand, smiling at her with great tenderness.
"Shelly, I am starving. Shall we go?"

Mumbling an embarrassed response, she led him to her car in the deserted parking lot. Casually, she peered around the parking area. "Where's your car, Rafael?"

"I don’t have one. I walked."

"You walked from the city?" Shelly stared at him incredulously.

"From Capistrano. It was not that far. I have hiked more than that."

Only ten miles, he must be exhausted. Well, I know where we'll eat tonight.

Unlocking the car, Shelly slid into the driver's seat and buckled up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rafael watch her motions intently and smoothly copy them.

Her little blue sports car was an indulgence for which she had scrimped and saved, eating more tuna casseroles than she liked to remember. She enjoyed handling the classic Corvette. It was her baby. She'd even given the car a nickname.

"It is a pleasure to watch you drive this vehicle." Rafael admired her ease and control even as he flinched as she darted through the sparse nighttime traffic.

"I do enjoy driving, although not many women admit to it." She patted the steering wheel. "This is my baby."

"I would wager you have even named the contraption. Am I right?"

"How did you...? Guess the name."

"Too easy. Amigo Azura".

"Wrong. Blue Buddy." She crowed in triumph.

"Si, Blue Buddy. Amigo Azura. I studied enough English to know they are the same." He paused. "I hope you won't mind if I close my eyes. I must admit I am somewhat fatigued by today's events." He grinned. "Please wake me if I snore."

Shelly smiled and shook her head. "Go right ahead. I'll wake you when we arrive." Till then I can take my time and try to figure out why you seem so familiar to me. And how you understand me so well.

Completely at ease, the stranger who was not a stranger settled deeper into the cushioned seat and closed his eyes.

Shelly gazed at him out of the corner of her eye, taking every opportunity to examine his familiar handsome face. A face she'd only seen in her dreams. Here was a mystery she needed to solve before it was too late.

Before she fell in love with him.

Again.