Hide And Seek

Lyla jingled the keys on her Pokémon-ring as she wandered toward the store-rooms. Being the prop manager, she had a duplicate set to the three store-rooms. She had chosen the middle one. In her opinion, the middle of anything was often underrated. Or poorly rated.

She sighed the sigh of a middle child as she looked back at the crew buzzing around the stage. Her dork of a manager, Paddick, was cozying up to the main lead in the wings. Though the actress needed the part, she was no fool. Lyla grinned as she saw her casually brushing him off. The woman had some skills.

Meg, the child artist, playing Amy Curtis March in the production’s adaption of Little Women, sat on the floor, oscillating between the script and a fat sci-fi. Since the time Meg had joined the production, which was four weeks back, that was probably her eighth new book. But the kid was a hit on-stage. She wasn’t a twelve-year-old the character required but was close, younger. She was sharp, had her lines by rote, and delivered them with a certain finesse.

Lyla liked her. Sometime in her free hour the previous week, Lyla had indulged herself in a game of monopoly with the kid. For the first few rounds, Lyla had held back and nearly gone bankrupt. When Meg had sucked all the monies, Lyla had played mean. They had poured real bills for a couple of rounds. Both had lost some, gained some. In the end, Lyla’s pocket was lighter by five dollars while Meg rolled in it. She shook her head- kids these days were faster and sharper than a bullet.

Lyla checked her crusted gold watch. It was way past the lunch hour. She had spent most of it setting up the stage for afternoon rehearsals. She saw the lazy-assed interns assigned to her loitering near the break room. Seeing her, they scampered away. She caught one of them and booted him to check the props she had ordered from their vendor.

She stopped at the water-cooler; filled her bottle. Humming to herself, tapping to an internal beat, she looked to her right, then left. With no one in sight, she capped her bottle and hurried to the store-room. Quickly she unlocked it and slipped inside. It took a few moments for her to adjust to the dark. Since she didn’t expect anyone to come this way, she flipped the small bulb.

In the far corner sat a stack of mid-sized cartons. One after one, Lyla neatly placed them on the floor and reached for the last box. It was sealed with thick red tape. She checked the seal for any breaks. Finding none, she used her penknife to break it. Opening the box, she carefully removed the silk sheets, pink tissue papers, layers of chiffon that were supposed to be used for the final rehearsals. And there it was, underneath everything.

Her red and white poke-ball round cooler bag. Nattily placed in a waterproof zip bag. She took it out, opened it, and was stunned. It was gone. A loaded, double deck, cheese grill sandwich neatly wrapped in an aluminum foil was gone. Her lunch had disappeared for the fifteenth damn time that month. And in its place was a shabbily folded note.

Lyla opened the note. Something fell to the floor, but she ignored it for the moment. She read out the scrawled message.

Hiya,

You know, it’s getting real silly. Next time, either don’t get anything or hide it better. Then again, I will find it. You are doomed.

Yours truly :)

P.S.- These bills wanted to come back to you.