STAGESTRUCK - The Complete Series

by Ward, Alice

  My confession made Janette laugh even harder. “That’s a pretty glowing review. I can’t wait to meet this guy… though every time I see him your last comment is going to pop into my head.” She warned.

  “That’s totally fine.” I nodded seriously. “You should think about it… you should thank him for it… I should thank him for it! Where’s my phone?” I asked as I clumsily rolled off the couch. Janette went hysterical as I landed on the floor with a soft thud.

  “Kate, you’re so fucked up!” She exclaimed. “You can’t call Max right now, you have to wait until you’re sober.”

  “Oh no!” I cried. “You’re right, I am drunk! Marion is going to be so mad at me! How did this happen?” I sobbed.

  My quick change of emotion amused Janette even further and she continued to laugh between offering me encouragement. “Don’t worry about tomorrow, Kate! You’ve got this, remember? What are you going to sing?”

  “I know all of the songs, but I’ve been practicing ‘Angel of Music’ and ‘All I Ask of You’.” I told her. “Those are Christine’s best songs.”

  “And you can hit all of the notes?” She asked; I nodded. “And you have all of the lines memorized? Not just Christine’s, but the whole cast's?" I nodded again. “So what are you so worried about?” She asked with a smile.

  I thought about the question for a few minutes and came up with nothing. “I guess you’re right.” I sighed. “I can handle tomorrow. But I have to sober up. Do you have any bottled water?”

  “Yeah, I’ll go grab you one from the fridge. Why don’t you stay here tonight? I’ll make sure that you get up on time in the morning and then we’ll go to your place and I’ll help you choose your outfit.” She offered.

  I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’m a little superstitious when it comes to auditions.” I told her. “I have a routine that I go through… and I need to be alone to focus.”

  “I completely understand.” Janette nodded. “I have a few superstitious routines myself. You go blow their minds in the morning, and we’ll meet up after to celebrate.”

  “That sounds like a plan.” I told her as I struggled to get up from the floor. Janette offered me a helping hand and pulled me to my feet. “Thanks for the wine… and the smoke. I’m going to go sleep it off so I don’t disappoint Marion tomorrow.”

  I stumbled towards the door, unsteady on my feet. Janette put an arm around me, helped me to my apartment, and tucked me into bed.

  “Sleep well, Kate, and don’t worry about tomorrow.” She said as she backed out of the room. “I’m beyond confident that that role will be yours.”

  ***

  Janette’s confidence turned out to be completely unfounded. I started Tuesday morning by sleeping through my alarm. I woke an hour late, giving me only thirty minutes to get ready and get out of the apartment. I arrived at the subway station just minutes before my train pulled away from the platform, and spent the entire ride trying not to vomit wine on the man sitting next to me.

  By the time the train pulled in to the Manhattan station, I was shaky from the cold sweat pouring from my body; I wasn’t positive, but it seemed like the sweat smelled like wine. ‘This is just fucking perfect.’ I scolded myself as I slowly made my way to the theater. I arrived twenty minutes before the audition was scheduled to begin. As I stepped into the theater, I realized that in Broadway, twenty minutes early is actually an hour and a half late. Thirty other girls already stood on the stage, running lines, warming up their voices, and commiserating about the struggles of trying to make it in the industry. I deposited my things in an empty seat before ascending on to the stage. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was supposed to do, so I swallowed my pride and approached a woman who was standing off by herself. I’d assumed that, like me, the woman was a bit confused about the structure of the audition.

  “This is a little overwhelming, isn’t it?” I asked with a smile as I neared her. She swung her head in my direction and shot me a harsh, critical look.

  “I guess it would be, for an amateur.” She said smugly.

  “Yeah, that’s me I guess.” I agreed sheepishly. “I’m sorry to bother you, I’m just nervous. Would you mind running a few lines with me? I’m Kate Harper, by the way.” I added, extending my hand. The woman looked at it as if I was offering her spoiled fish.

  “Some of us are professionals and don’t have time to hold the hands of scared little newbies. Why don’t you go find someone else who’s just walked out of a cornfield? I don’t speak farmer.” She spat before turning and moving several yards away from me.

  ‘A cornfield?’ I thought. ‘Was that comment just a coincidence, or did the woman somehow know that I’m from Iowa? Surely there’s no way she knows who I am, or where I’m from.’ I assured myself. I didn’t feel like having any more encounters with my fellow actresses, so I sat down on the stage and pulled my legs up in a meditation pose. I closed my eyes and did some relaxation breathing exercises; in what seemed like a matter of seconds, a sharp voice broke my concentration.

  “Alright, this audition is for the Christine understudy.” I opened my eyes and saw a short, balding, incredibly round little man standing on one of the seats in the front row. “My name is Stewart, and I’ll be running the audition. When I call your name, please respond with ‘present’.”

  He went through the call sheet and I learned that the rude woman I’d encountered was named Shelia Morris. She stood with a group of women whose expressions were as sour as hers, and I decided that I was flattered that a woman like that didn’t want to be my friend. I glanced her direction; she caught me looking at her and began whispering to the women in her group. Suddenly all eyes were on me.

  “Alright,” Stewart called out again. “We’re going to do vocal’s first. Everyone line up side by side; Sherman will play through ‘All I Ask of You’, and you will each sing eight bars. Keep track of where we are in the song; if your turn rolls around and you sing the wrong lyrics, you’ll be cut.” He warned.

  We lined up as he directed, everyone vying for the first spot in line; Shelia elbowed everyone out of her way and claimed the coveted, easy spot; she’d sing the first line and not have to worry about keeping up with the lyrics. I cleared my mind of everything but the music and managed to pass through the first round of cuts.

  “Alright ladies, if your still here it means that I like the tone of your voice and the way you look on stage. For the next round, you’ll each perform the song in full, with accompaniment.” Marcus Blackstone, the actor who plays Raoul, stepped out of the shadows of stage left. The women around me gasped in excitement; my stomach churned nervously.

  “Alright, we’ll go in the order you’re lined up in.” Stewart directed. “Those of you waiting for your turn can take a seat. Number one, you’re up.”

  I sat silently while the women ahead of me performed. They were all talented, but I was confident that I could out-sing everyone on the stage. When my turn came, I stood, looked Marcus in the eye with a smile, and signaled to Sherman that I was ready.

  It happened halfway through the song. The cold sweats started again, but I tried to sing through them. I belted out “Say you’ll love me every waking moment,” and then promptly threw up all over Marcus’s soft suede shoes. A look of revulsion spread across his face as he backed away from me, and everyone around us broke into laughter.

  “Calm down people!” Stewart shouted as he climbed on stage. He approached me cautiously. “Kate, are you alright?” He asked. “Can someone call for a doctor… and a janitor?” I called out loudly.

  “I don’t need a doctor.” I assured him weakly. “Just a glass of water.” I could smell the wine on my breath as I spoke. Stewart smelled it too; he looked from me to the mess I’d made, and then to me again.

  “I think that you need to leave, Ms. Harper.” He said softly. “I’d heard great things about you and I must say that I’m thoroughly disappointed.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I began quickly; he interrupted me before I c
ould finish.

  “This is not the place to be sorry, Ms. Harper. This is the place to be fabulous. Please leave now, and don’t return until you can live up to my expectations.”

  I nodded and left the stage; the women who’d already finished the second portion of the audition were seated directly behind my bags. I tried not to acknowledge them as I gathered my things; it proved to be impossible.

  “That’s so sad! I feel awful for her!” A perky blonde girl commented to Shelia.

  “Don’t,” Shelia snorted, looking directly at me. “It’s better that she learns early. Small town talent is great, until you leave the small town. It takes a lot more than a decent voice and good connections to make it here.”

  I looked away from her and rushed out of the theater. ‘She does know who I am.’ I realized. ‘She made that comment about my connections, and she knows that I’m from a small town. Maybe she’s just jealous because Marion represents me.’ I thought. Dread filled my body and I felt as if someone had dropped a bowling ball in my gut as another idea entered my head. ‘Or maybe the bitch has a point. I don’t think anyone could blow an audition more thoroughly than I just did.’

  I stepped out onto the sidewalk and the cool air helped to clear my head but made the cold sweats even more uncomfortable. I fetched a towel and a sweatshirt from my audition bag; I dried my damp skin the best I could and pulled the sweatshirt over my head. Instead of heading straight home, I decided to walk around the theater district for awhile. I traveled down The Great White Way, trying to convince myself that I hadn’t just killed my career before it even started. An hour into my walk, my cell phone chirped. The bile rose in my stomach again when I looked down and saw Marion’s number on my screen.

  “I’m so sorry.” I answered.

  “You should be.” She snapped. “I don’t know what in the hell you were thinking Kate, but I know that this is the last time you will EVER do something like that. I went on and on to Stewart about you and called in every favor he owed me to get you that audition. And you repay me by throwing up cheap wine all over the leading man.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I apologized again, “I was so nervous last night… I was only going to have one glass…”

  “Kate, I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses.” Marion interrupted impatiently. “All I want to hear is ‘I will never do it again Marion.’”

  “I will never do it again, Marion.” I assured her. “What can I do to make this right?”

  “Do better next time… if there ever is a next time.”

  “Are you saying that this could have killed my chances?” I ask; the thought breaks my heart.

  “I’m saying that from this moment on, you will be known as the girl who vomited on Marcus Blackstone.” She sighed. “Whether or not you can overcome that reputation and get people to take you seriously remains to be seen.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “Kate, I’m so sorry!” Janette sighed again. She passed me a bottle of ibuprofen and refilled my coffee mug.

  “It’s not your fault.” I said softly. “I knew better, and I did it anyway. I didn’t realize how much I’d had to drink last night until I woke up this morning.”

  Janette nodded. “We went through two bottles. That’s not a ton, but it was wine… wine always gives me horrible headaches.”

  “You seem fine right now.” I told her.

  “I drank a giant glass of water before I went to bed last night, and I slept until 3 p.m.” She explained. “I wish you’d stayed here last night, I could have at least helped you get up on time.”

  “It’s too late to think about that.” I sighed. “I just have to do better next time… if there ever is a next time.” I said, remembering Marion’s words.

  “Don’t talk like that Kate; of course there will be a next time.” She assured me. “You’ve just had a bad day, everyone has bad days. Soon, this whole story will seem hilarious… something you can share during your first Tony award acceptance speech.” She grinned.

  “I’m not so sure about that.” I told her. “Janette, the other women at the audition… they were so focused, so put together. I’m not sure I could have competed with them on my best day. And one of them, a bitchy girl named Shelia… she knew who I was, where I’m from, and that Marion is representing me. She seemed to have it out for me.”

  “She’s probably just jealous of your agent. Between you and me, Serena told me it’s really strange that Marion agreed to sign you. She said that the Russo Agency never takes on unknown talent.”

  I groaned. “Great, so Sabrina’s talking about it too? Does she secretly resent me like all of those women I met today? And how the hell does everyone know so much about me?”

  “Sabrina made an innocent comment. If anything, she was impressed that you’re working with Marion. If she resents you for it, she’s hiding it really well. As for how everyone knows everything, the industry is notorious for gossiping. Another actor could have spotted you at the agency, a file clerk could have loose lips, there’s really no telling.” Janette answered patiently.

  “But I don’t understand why I’m worth talking about…” I sighed. “At least I didn’t until this morning. I completely understand why their talking about today’s awful audition.”

  “Yeah…” Janette began hesitantly. “That story is getting around. Serena called me a couple of hours ago to see if you were alright.”

  “How bad is it? What are they saying?”

  “I didn’t ask, because it doesn’t matter.” Janette said firmly. “Theater people gossip, but they have incredibly short attention spans. In a day or two, someone else will do something embarrassing and they’ll all forget about you.”

  “God I hope so.” I sighed. “At least I still have a job… unless Steve fires me for calling in tonight.”

  “Fuck Steve, he needs you and he knows it. He’s probably stressing out right now, wondering if you’re going to be at work tomorrow or if he’s lost you to the stage. He’ll be incredibly relieved when you show up for your next shift.” She assured me.

  I smiled. “You know Janette, I think you’re good for my self esteem.”

  “I’m just honest.” She grinned. “Now, finish that coffee while I figure out what we can throw together for dinner.”

  She rummaged through her cabinets and pulled out some quinoa. From there, she moved on to the refrigerator. “I have some smoked turkey sausages and some veggies. I could make a stir-fry.”

  “That sounds great.” I told her. “I’m starving.”

  Janette fired a burner and set a pot of water to boil for the quinoa. “The rest will only take a few minutes,” she explained as she took a seat next to me. Janette’s apartment was slightly bigger than mine. She has a great open floor plan with a dining bar that separates the kitchen space from the living room. We sat and drank coffee, waiting for the water to boil.

  Janette sighed and turned to me. “You know what they say about a watched pot… so let’s talk about something more pleasant. I for one would like to revisit the subject of you and a certain bartender…” She smiled wickedly.

  “I can’t even think about that right now.” I sighed.

  “That’s exactly why you should.” She advised. “Don’t dwell on the mistakes you made this morning, you can’t do anything to change that. But you CAN to do something to fix the mistake you made with Max.”

  “What do you suggest I do?” I ask.

  “Just walk up to that bar, look him in the eye, and admit that you made a mistake. Ask him for another chance… if he’s still interested in you, he’ll forgive you instantly.”

  “I think he’s already forgiven me…” I told her, “but what if he’s not interested? I can’t imagine putting myself out there like that and getting shot down. I’d have to find a new job for sure then. I’d never be able to show my face at Orlando’s again.”

  “So take a more… subtle approach.” She said as she poured the hearty seeds into the boiling water. She pulled the smoked sau
sage from the fridge, along with green and red peppers, snap peas, and a bundle of scallions. She chopped the ingredients as she continued. “We’re playing at Morell’s on Friday night. It’s a few blocks from Times Square, it’s a really classy place. You should come, and casually invite Max to join you. I’ll get everyone else to come to, so it will seem like a friendly group thing and there won’t be any pressure. You and Max could just… see where things go.”

  The idea was actually pretty good. “We both work Saturday, but neither of us close.” I told her. “I’ll bring it up and see if he’s interested.”

  Janette tossed the stir-fry ingredients into a hot, oiled skillet; the aromas that filled the air were both mouthwatering and nauseating. She looked at me and smiled.

  “You look green. There’s a joint in the drawer of the coffee table. Hit it a few times, it will help with the nausea and you’ll be able to eat.” She advised as she drained the quinoa.

  I did as she suggested; after my third hit I felt infinitely better. Janette set a plate of food in front of me and I devoured it in minutes.

  “I see why so many people swear by this stuff as a medicine.” I told her as I lit the joint again. “I can’t believe I waited so long to try it.”

  Janette laughed. “I told you I’d broaden your horizons.”

  “I feel bad, smoking yours all of the time. Next time you get some, I’ll pay… and I might like a little for myself, too.”

  “You can take some of this home.” Janette offered. “I have plenty for now. We’ll call Paul when we run out… unless you want me to call him now? He has a couple of different blends, you might like one of the other ones better.”

  I shook my head. “I’m too stoned and tired right now. I’d really just like to lay in a hot bath until I turn into a prune.”

  Janette disappeared into her bedroom, and then returned a moment later with a small, silver cigarette case. She flipped the top open to reveal three tightly rolled joints. “You can take these for now, enjoy some in the tub.”