Alex and Micah
CHARACTERS
ALEX, a ballroom commentator, early 30s, African American, sharp-tongued, always poised.
MICAH, a former house member, late 20s, Caucasian, recently returned from a long absence.
SETTING
A backstage dressing room at Kandy's Club; a fancy bar with a well-lit stage.
TIME
The present.
Lights up on a cluttered vanity table with a cracked mirror, scattered makeup palettes, and a pair of rhinestone-covered heels. ALEX sits on a stool, removing lashes with slow precision. They wear a sequined robe, heels kicked off. MICAH enters, holding a duffel bag, still in partial drag— wig askew, lipstick smudged. MICAH stands in the doorway, unsure. ALEX doesn't look up.
MICAH: You stayed.
ALEX: I always stay. Somebody's gotta clean up the glitter.
MICAH: I thought you'd be gone by now.
ALEX: I thought you were gone for good.
(Silence. MICAH sets the duffel down. ALEX swabs her cheek with a makeup wipe.)
MICAH: I didn't know she'd be here.
ALEX: She's always here. It's her house now.
MICAH: Was. Past tense. Like your loyalty.
(MICAH crosses to the vanity. Pickups a compact, opens it, then holds it up to her eyes. She closes it.)
MICAH: You still use the same highlighter?
ALEX: Some things don't chang. Some people do.
MICAH: I didn't leave you. I left the scene.
ALEX: Same difference.
(Silence. ALEX finally looks at MICAH through the vanity mirror.)
ALEX: You walked out the night before the Grand March. No note. No call. Just... poof. (She gestures an explosion with her hands.) Bad tuck.
MICAH: I couldn't breathe, Lex. I was drowning in sequins.
ALEX: We all were. That's the point! We drown together. That's what our house is for.
MICAH: I didn't know how to say goodbye.
ALEX: Bitchhhh. Who are you lying to right now. Cuz it clearly not me. (She opens the top right drawer of the vanity.)
(MICAH rolls her eyes and sighs.)
ALEX: (Pulls out a tube of scarlet lipstick and holds it to MICAH's face.) You wrote with this thing here on THIS MIRROR. (She points to the vanity mirror.) What did you write, girl?
MICAH: Seriously? Are you really doing this?
ALEX: (Scoffs.) Just say it.
MICAH: "Bye bitches!"
(ALEX chuckles as she walks over to the mini fridge.)
MICAH: At least, I said something. And y'all knew I was leaving. So, what's the problem?!
(ALEX still laughing as she walks over to MICAH with two bottles of water. She tosses one to MICAH.)
ALEX: You know what? Nothing.
MICAH: Really?
ALEX: Yeah. You looked good out there tonight. What's the word? Oh, Rusty.... but, the crowd felt you. Especially, Kandy.
MICAH: I wasn't walking for her.
ALEX: Didn't look like it. You walked like you had something to prove.
MICAH: Maybe I did.
ALEX: (Raises her voice.) To who?!
MICAH: To you.
(Silence. ALEX leans against the vanity, arms crossed.)
ALEX: You think a dip and a death drop erases THREE— not one, not two, but THREE WHOLE YEARS?!
MICAH: No. But it's a start.
ALEX: You know what else is a start?
MICAH: What?
ALEX: An apology.
(Silence. MICAH glares at ALEX, then rolls her eyes.)
MICAH: I'm sorry.
ALEX: For what?
MICAH: Ok, WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO SAY?! Sorry for leaving? For not calling? For letting her take what we built?!
ALEX: She didn't take it. You gave it to her.
(MICAH scoffs. ALEX turns back to the mirror, reapplies lip gloss.)
MICAH: I want to come back.
ALEX: It's not my house anymore.
MICAH: But you're still the face.
ALEX: Not tonight. (Chuckles.) Tonight, I was just the echo.
(MICAH walks overs to the vanity, picks up a brush and starts fixing her wig in the mirror beside ALEX.)
MICAH: Then let's make some noise.
(Silence. ALEX watches MICAH in the mirror, then grins.)
ALEX: You better not miss your cue again.
MICAH: Bitchhhhh.
(They briefly laugh in sync, while looking at each other. Then, turn back to face the vanity mirror.)
Lights fade as they both lean into the mirror, side by side, brushing, blending, becoming.
