by Gigi Blume
“You know, I don’t mind being the idiot,” she said as if in thought. “I liked him. He didn’t return the feeling. End of story. If he liked me as much as you think he did, we’d still be together. But he didn’t, and I’m fine with that. I won’t hold him to any promises he never made.”
She was a better person than I, always seeing the best in people even when they broke her heart. In the end, it wasn’t up to me to be offended for her. It was her life, after all. Still, there was a tiny part of me that wanted to squeeze Bing’s nipples with a vice grip. I wondered if Jorge could get me one of those from the scene shop. If I actually thought it would work, I’d be on it in an instant.
I couldn’t help but hope, however, that it was possible, even probable that Bing might still come to his senses. That he would get over whatever was keeping him from opening up to Jane. That he would give in to his obvious attraction to her. I watched him every day at rehearsal. I was sure he still carried a torch for her, but something prevented him from admitting it. Maybe the idea scared him? Maybe it was moving too fast. Guys tend to freak out about these things. If only he had better influences. Someone like Cole, who in his time of life saw what he wanted and took it. He never displayed his affection for Holly at the theatre. He was a professional. But every other nanosecond of his free time was spent with her, and in the moments I’d witnessed, he was the most romantic person on the planet. He made Romeo look like a schmuck. Actually, scratch that. Romeo was a schmuck.
If only Bing could recognize what he was missing.
Pirates of Penzance was on its feet. The magic truly began to form at the sitzprobe—a fancy German term for rehearsing for the first time with an orchestra. Fitz was brilliant, and from the first note of the show, I felt shivers down my spine. That was the beauty of live theatre right there. That was what I was talking about with Jorge the first day we met.
Cole had worked the cast to the nubs of our toes to get the show up and running to the closest to perfection as possible. Truthfully, I was a little worried there for a while. But most of the kinks were ironed out, and we were ready to go. Tech rehearsals had been from hell, but other than that, it was an exhilarating thing to behold. The show was awesome. It was better than awesome—it was funny and energetic and beautiful.
I found myself enthralled by everyone’s performance. Even Will’s. He was actually an excellent performer. Perhaps I hadn’t noticed it before because I actively avoided him whenever I could. But now that the show was in run-throughs, there were fewer opportunities to hide from him. It was annoying, for once he began to sing, I couldn’t peel my eyes off him. He commanded the stage. Bigger than life. It truly was a glorious thing to see the Pirate King. His booming voice shook my center and tilted my equilibrium.
Gah! Why did he have to be so talented? It made it so much harder to dislike him.
Every concern I had in the weeks of toil were laid aside when we completed our first dress rehearsal. It was magical. Earth stopped on its axis to applaud. It was masterful. It was also weeks before we’d have an audience because we had to break for the holidays.
The Gardiner Theatre had a Christmas tradition of hosting holiday concerts with the local philharmonic. The house sold out every year, and it was a major draw for the season. All the subscribing patrons looked forward to a spread of holiday hors d’oeuvres on the terrace before the concerts. During this time, the Gardiner was transformed into a winter wonderland. This annual event was one of the reasons Stella scheduled our rehearsals to end in mid-December. We would have to be completely ready to open after the new year, and there was no time for rehearsals at Christmas. A schedule like that was generally unheard of in a professional or even amateur theatre. But Stella was determined for a January opening, and there was no other way around it. Therefore, the company had a long break. Which meant no Caroline and, best of all, no Will for three glorious weeks. What would I do with all the excess sarcasm?
Jane booked the first flight out of California she could find. I hadn’t even realized she’d been packed for days until I noticed her wear the same three outfits in regular circulation. When she left, the apartment was so quiet, I found myself tuning in to telenovelas just to see what the appeal was. From what I gathered, there was a whole lotta cheatin’ going on. Those characters were in serious need of a hobby. Or a chastity belt.
I was able to use my extra time to catch up with Charlotte over pedicures and peppermint lattes. Everything was going swimmingly until she invited me to a New Year's Eve party at Rosings.
That sounded like the opposite of a good time. Ring in the New Year with Colin? Hard pass.
But Charlotte nearly pleaded with me. Moral support, I guess. I told her I would think about it.
One event I was looking forward to was Cole’s Christmas party. He invited the entire cast and crew. I was pleased as punch to find out Will didn’t plan to attend. It gave me a sense of freedom to have the liberty to enjoy the evening in the company of Jorge without looking over our shoulders or checking for poison in our eggnog. Plus, Cole pulled out all the stops for the festivities. It wasn’t an uppity Hollywood party although his house was fabulous. He had a view of the valley from the hills. The twinkling lights of the city on the horizon wrapped around his property in an absolutely breathtaking, panoramic vista. He certainly had the perfect house for one of those classy soirees with a fancy caterer and valet parking. But Cole was a Jersey guy at heart, so his idea of an ideal party included a mobile woodfired pizza truck and plenty of beer. Everybody was encouraged to wear ugly sweaters, and we had a white elephant gift exchange. Then, once everyone was warm with their innards full of spirits, Stella stood by the fireplace and recited a poem with a line for each person in the cast and crew. It was both poignant and hilarious. Mostly, it was just cheeky, but every bit Stella. Nothing got past her.
Jorge gave me a lot of his attention the entire night, but when he stripped down to nothing but his boxers and jumped in the pool, he was on his own. Lydia and Mariah got it all on video.
“That bloke is something else, isn’t he?” Stella poured herself a drink at the bar a few feet away from where I was shamelessly ogling Jorge. “Care for one of these?”
She held up a concoction that looked more like a science experiment than a beverage. Interesting. I had her pegged as more of a rosé type.
I held up my wine cooler. “I’m good, thanks.”
She shrugged and slid closer to me, sipping on the rim of her glass and casting her eyes in the direction of the pool. Jorge had convinced Lydia to jump in fully clothed. I hoped the water was heated because they’d be popsicles when they got out. They say California doesn’t have seasons. Well, I'm here to tell you that for a local girl, sixty degrees Fahrenheit might as well be sixty below. Californians are cold weather wimps and I have no shame in that.
“Mr. Wickham is the type of man to make the most of any circumstance, I gather,” she said with a smile. “If I had known it was a pool party, I would have brought my suit.”
She winked at me and took another sip of her cocktail.
“I suppose you could say he’s an opportunist,” I said.
“He’s certainly taken the opportunity to catch your notice.”
“It’s a little hard not to notice.” I smiled.
“He’s an interesting creature, I’ll give him that,” she said over the rim of her glass.
“That he is.”
“But if I may be so bold,” she added, “I must admit I thought you were more sensible than to fancy a man that gets his attention by skinny dipping in December.”
I chuckled to myself. The idea of getting carried away with a skinny-dipping heartthrob wasn’t in my bag of tricks. That’s why Lydia would catch a cold and not me.
“Well,” I said, “I’ve fallen for much stupider a fellow. It seems to be my specialty. But if you must know, we’re just friends.”
“That’s good to know,” she said with a single nod. “You wouldn’t want to let your fancy run a
way with you. I’d have to be seriously disappointed.”
“I’ll do my best to avoid it, then.” I winked. “But I might have to tone down my feminine arts if I want to keep shirtless men from falling madly in love with me.”
I wiggled my hips and modeled the ugly Christmas sweater I wore. I’d bought it at the Goodwill where some unfortunate grandma must have reluctantly emptied her closets.
“Speaking of madly in love,” she said. “I hope you don’t find it impertinent to ask, but I haven’t seen Jane all night. She isn’t avoiding a certain someone, is she?”
“More like the other way around,” I said. The warmth of the alcohol broke down my inhibitions. Stella was so easy to talk to.
“I’m sorry to hear it,” she replied. “Sometimes men can be like that dog from Up. They fall in love with a pretty face for a few weeks but can so easily get distracted by a squirrel.”
I laughed. “That has to be one of the most accurate analogies ever.”
I knew more than a few guys like that. But then my thoughts fled to my father. As silly as my mother was sometimes, he never once had a wandering eye. I had to believe there were more men in the world like him. I’d stupidly thought Bing was one of them.
Total fail.
“I don’t know if that’s the case with Bing,” I continued. “I’ve never seen a guy so infatuated with anyone like Bing was with Jane. It got to the point where he ignored everybody else.
“Showmances!” she scoffed. “Well, I hope they can figure it out. Now neither one of them are here.”
“Jane’s in New York,” I replied, feeling I had to defend Jane somehow. “She said she had a few auditions.”
“Good for her.” Stella’s face brightened. “I have no doubt she’ll make a good impression. I wish she would have told me, though. I could have put in a word for her.”
“You’d do that?”
“Why yes. I’d do that for any of you. It’s what I do. I’m sure you’ve heard of my academy in New York?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, we have our charity arts program here in Los Angeles.”
I knew a little about the work her charity did. It was a theatrical program for underprivileged youth.
“Not only is it an arts program, but we also offer full scholarships and career advancement. The students don’t have to pursue the arts if they don’t want to. We use theatre as a springboard into all areas of study. Theatre is a dynamic discipline. It’s not just for us drama llamas.”
I giggled. I was feeling a buzz from the alcohol, but Stella’s dry British delivery made everything she said sound humorous or poignant. Sometimes both at the same time.
Stella smiled wistfully and took a sip of her science experiment. “But if the students in our workshops want to be a doctor or computer engineer, our scholarships will still give them a full ride. We just want them to be successful.”
This was why I admired this woman. Yes, she was the best actor in my acquaintance, she’d won awards too numerous to count, but it was her philanthropy that set her apart from her peers.
“How many scholarships does your foundation award each year?”
“At first, it was only one. Now, we’re able to sponsor three graduates from our youth program. I’m hoping to raise enough money this year to send five students to college.”
“That’s incredible.”
“Who knows? Maybe in future years, we can sponsor ten or twenty. Or thirty!”
“That should be something.”
“It would. Of course, there are some graduates who go straight into auditioning. We don’t always recommend it, but if the actor is ready, we’ll help them get headshots or an agent or whatever else they need and send them off. And we put in a good word wherever they go—casting directors seem to respect that. I get calls all the time. So I would have extended the same for Jane. Not like she needs my help at all.”
“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” I said with a smile.
Stella agreed with an enthusiastic nod. “That she is. And so are you, my dear.”
“Me? Nah.”
“Now don’t give me false modesty. I can always tell the ones who are going to make it. And you’re one of them.”
“I… I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said with a tipsy smile. “Don’t let it go to your head. It’s still a very steep, uphill climb. There’s nothing worse than when a talented person gets lazy. I just want to slap them and say, Hey, you could be so much more if you’d only do the work to get there.”
“I will do my best to avoid a slapping.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that drink,” I said, abandoning my wine cooler on a table.
Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “You’re going to love it.”
I could tell the novelty of mixing cocktails was an entertainment to her. She accented her every movement with a flourish as she poured the mixers and added the condiments.
“By the way,” she said, “I would love for you to attend my charity event as my plus one.” She splashed a piece of dry ice in the glass with a flourish. “It’s a carnival theme this year. The festivities last all day, and you’ll get to meet some of our recipients. One of our former students, Francesca, just graduated from NYU. She’s coming to present the fellowship awards this year. You would get along swimmingly.” She handed me the smoking cocktail. “What sayeth thou?”
“Are you kidding?” I screeched loud enough to turn a few heads. Every who’s who in Whoville attended that event. Visions of myself brushing shoulders with A-list celebrities and powerful producers danced in my head. Even if it was a carnival. I may not have been interested in working in film, but I’d be crazy to pass that up. “I sayeth yes.”
“Good.” She clinked her glass with mine. “Now we better get that friend of yours out of the pool before she recreates the love scene from Shape of Water.”
17
Twitterpated
Will
“What has gotten into you?”
Georgia threw a pillow at me, catching me off guard. I was so not engaged in the game we were playing. I was messing up royally, using up all my lives. My little sister didn’t like winning so easily. So, she threw the pillow. Hmmm. I guess that’s why it was called a throw pillow. I’d never thought of it like that before.
“Earth to Will,” she sing-songed. “I should have stayed in New York.”
“It’s cold in New York,” I said, propping the pillow under my arm. Much better.
“You’re letting me win,” she pouted. “You never let me win.”
“I’m just tired.”
“Tired from shopping all day for my Christmas present?”
“I’m not telling you what I got you, so quit trying to get it out of me.”
“A girl’s gotta try.”
“Or you can wait ‘til Christmas like normal people.”
I loved my little sister, but her low tolerance for surprises was irritating. One year she unwrapped all her presents when no one was looking. Then she re-wrapped them and pretended to be surprised on Christmas morning. She didn’t fool anyone. Ever since then I had to hide all her gifts in creative places. Sometimes I got so creative even I forgot where I put them. It was exhausting.
“Are you tired from hiding my Christmas present?”
“Okay, do you really want to know?”
She perked up and jumped to sit on her feet. “Yes.”
“I could just give it to you now and save the suspense.”
“That’s probably one of your better ideas. Especially since you never found my present from three years ago.”
She’ll never let me live that down.
“Okay, I’m going to give it to you now. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to wait?”
“I’m sure, I’m sure.”
“All right. Here it is. This year, for your gift, I composed you a poem.”
Her fac
e fell. I cleared my throat.
“Roses are red, violets aren’t blue. If you ask me about your present one more time…I will cover your mouth with glue.”
“You are a terrible poet. Don’t quit your day job.” She threw another pillow at me. This time I caught it as it came barreling toward my face.
“Thanks,” I said with a grin. “I needed one for the other arm.”
“Seriously though. You’ve been acting weird ever since I got off the plane. You’re distant, quiet, most of the time you’re staring into space. I had to repeat your name three times yesterday just to get you to pass the salad dressing. And don’t tell me it’s work. You’ve always been a workaholic, but you’ve never passed up movie night with me before. So spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill,” I replied. “Look at our house. It’s turned into a circus. Literally. The carnival rides are sitting on our lawn, every day another batch of vendors comes to set something up, we’ve got a petting zoo, for crying out loud. A petting zoo!”
“They’ve brought the animals already?”
“No. But it’s here. On our property. With bales of hay everywhere.”
“Let me take care of the vendors,” she pleaded. “I like organizing events. I could get one of those headsets like stage managers use.”
“It’s ruining Christmas.”
“Nothing’s going to ruin Christmas. Just chill.”
I huffed and rolled my eyes. “I’ll chill when Pirates closes.”
“Don’t tell me a romp with Gilbert and Sullivan is stressful. You’ve always loved that show.”
“Just some personality clashes, nothing to write home about.”
“What? Some overblown egos in the cast?”
“Something like that.” There were two strong personalities at the theatre I wished to avoid. One was Jorge, but I was determined to never mention his name in Georgia’s presence again. The other was Beth. Unfortunately, nothing I did to avoid her did any good. She was still there in my thoughts no matter how hard I tried to forget her. I sighed like the pathetic fool I was and sank further into the pillows under my arms. It was actually pretty comfortable.