LOVESCENES

by Sandra Marton

  ‘Thanks for the message, but I can’t wait.’

  ‘There are some things in that script that I’d like to go over with you, Shannon.’

  ‘Tomorrow, Jerry. OK? I’ll get in early,’ she’d pleaded. She had missed her last workshop class; that, and wanting Eli to help her with what she and Tony laugh­ingly called the infamous bedroom scene, had given her the courage to turn the director down. Jerry had given her a funny look and she’d wondered if she’d over-stepped her bounds. Then he’d shrugged and waved her away.

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ he’d said. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  There was a sudden murmur in the small classroom. Shannon blinked and looked up from her shoulder-bag.

  ‘Thank you,’ Eli was saying in a non-committal voice. ‘Next pair, please.’

  Another actress settled on the high stool and smoothed down her skirt with hands that trembled. Eli nodded to her and she launched into her opening speech.

  Not bad, Shannon thought. Her voice betrayed her ner­vousness, but she had the feel of the part. But the guy playing opposite her was awful. The class shifted restlessly, a sure sign that they would show him no pity when they criticized the hour’s performances.

  This was the most demanding of audi­ences. Playing to these impassive faces was enough to make even the toughest soul want to turn tail and run. Once in a great, great while, if everything went well, you could wrench a stir of emotion from the class. It hadn’t happened to Shannon yet, but she was sure that when it did—if it did—she’d treasure the moment. Well, she thought, at least she no longer felt intimidated when she read in front of them.

  Terrified, yes, but not intimidated.

  The actor’s voice cracked and a murmur ran through the room. The poor soul was blowing his lines. Eli un­coiled his thin figure from the wall he’d been leaning on and cleared his throat.

  ‘This is a pivotal scene, young man. It’s one of the only chances we have to glimpse the real man inside the mask he’s created. Try it again, please, and with feeling this time. Remember—the writing is spare and you’ve got to provide the emotion.’

  The scene started again and Shannon’s thoughts drifted. Funny that Eli should say something like that. Jerry Crawford had made virtually the same speech to her only a couple of hours ago. They’d been taping to­morrow’s show and her dialogue had consisted of three lines with a grand total of fifteen words. It had hardly seemed worthwhile to bother rehearsing something so simple. Jerry had sensed her dissatisfaction or maybe her boredom, she wasn’t sure which, but midway through the fourth take he’d smiled at her.

  ‘Just think of the scene as a skeletal structure, Shannon,’ he’d said. ‘I’m counting on you to flesh it out.’

  She didn’t think it was true—you could have cut her dialogue from the scene without losing a thing—but it had made her feel better, although she’d wondered almost immediately why he should care how she felt. Claire swore she had a suspicious mind, but it seemed to her that Jerry had been awfully nice to her over the past few days.

  Maybe he was making up to her for that unpleasant incident with Cade Morgan.

  At least all that nonsense about co-starring them had bitten the dust. She had no idea why—it was nice to

  think it was because she’d objected—but she wasn’t that naive. After all, she was just an unknown actress; Jerry Crawford and the producers of All Our Tomorrows could replace her in the time it took a viewer to tune into a competing game show. No matter how good a case Claire might have pleaded in her behalf, they were interested in ratings and how much detergent and toothpaste the viewers were buying, and they would do what had to be done to achieve both those goals.

  No, Cade Morgan must have backed out.

  Maybe his demands were too outrageous, even for the producers of All Our Tomorrows. Maybe he’d chickened out at the thought of pretending he could act in front of fifty million fans—whatever, things had gone back to normal on the set. She and Tony hadn’t rehearsed the infamous bedroom scene again, but she was sure they’d be running through it tomorrow. After all, they’d be taping it next week. And it didn’t really require any complex acting technique. Maybe Eli could help her find some moti­vation for her character’s behavior.

  The door to the classroom squeaked open. Somebody was even later than she had been.

  ‘Excuse me.

  The latecomer was standing over her. Out of the comer of her eye, Shannon saw him motion at the chair on which she’d placed her shoulder-bag. She nodded, took the bag from the chair and put it on the floor beside her.

  ‘Thanks.’ .

  ‘Shhh,’ she whispered.

  ‘Right. Sorry.’

  The chair creaked as he settled into it and she frowned. It was bad enough to come in so late; the least he could do was try to keep noise to a minimum. She gave him a sidelong glance, watching as he opened his copy of the play the class was reading—A Streetcar Named Desire—and began rustling through the pages of the first act. She thought of telling him they were reading from the second, but before she had the chance, he leaned towards her.

  ‘Uh—could you tell me what page they’re on? I can’t seem to find it.’

  ‘Page forty-four,’ she muttered. ‘And could you please be a little quieter? I’m trying to...” Her sentence ended before it had begun, the words drifting into the air as aimlessly as smoke in a summer breeze. That voice, she thought, while her heart thumped into overdrive, that distinctive voice...No, no, it couldn’t be. It was impossible.

  Shannon took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Easy, she told herself, easy. Lots of men have husky voices. She raised her lashes slowly, glancing down and to the side. Motorcycle boots, she thought, as mounting panic fluttered inside her chest, dusty black motorcycle boots. Her glance moved slowly up the length of blue-denimed leg beside her. Please, she thought, please...

  He turned towards her and she choked back a moan. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Cade Morgan shrugged his shoulders. ‘I might ask you the same question.’

  ‘Don’t play cute with me!’ she whispered frantically. ‘I asked you a question. What are you doing here?’

  He crossed one boot-clad ankle over the other. ‘What does it look like?’

  ‘You... you can’t just walk in here and sit down. This is a classroom.’

  ‘Really?’ He looked around and then nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s what it is, all right.’

  ‘Mr. Morgan, please...’

  ‘Cade,’ he said, leaning towards her.

  ‘Mr. Morgan, my teacher will be furious at me.’

  Cade,’ he repeated. ‘Shall I spell that for you, Shannon? Capital C...’

  She took a deep breath. Don’t antagonize him, she thought desperately. Don’t even try to understand why he’s doing this to you. Just get rid of him before somebody realizes what’s happening.

  ‘OK, OK. Look, my teacher. . .’

  ‘Cade,’ he repeated. ‘It’s an easy name. Just one syllable.’

  She ducked her head and bit her lip as a woman in front of them stirred. ‘All right, Cade,’ she said swiftly. ‘Look, my teacher doesn’t let us bring visitors to class.’

  ‘No problem,’ Cade said easily. ‘I’ll just tell him I’m not here with you.’

  ‘Will you stop being such an ass?’ she whispered in fury. ‘You can’t do this!.’

  The woman seated ahead clucked her tongue in an­noyance and swiveled around to face them.

  ‘For God’s sake,’ she said through tight lips, ‘isn’t it enough you both came in late? Must you keep inter­rupting things?’

  Shannon’s face whitened. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘This wasn’t my idea.’

  ‘You should be sorry. You know better. As for you,’ she added, turning her angry glare on Cade, ‘you shouldn’t even be here. You...’ A sudden spark of recognition lit the woman’s face. ‘Aren’t you—aren’t you…’ She blinked. ‘Cade Morgan?’

  ‘No,’ Shannon babbled, ‘he isn�
�t.’ Cade glanced at her and chuckled softly. ‘I mean... I mean he was just leaving….’

  The woman touched him lightly on the arm. ‘You are Cade Morgan, aren’t you?’

  ‘What? Cade Morgan? Where?’ The man beside her almost scrambled out of his seat as he turned towards Cade. A smile stretched across his face. ‘Jeez, it is!’ he said. ‘I saw you with the Philharmonic last year, Mr. Morgan. Great performance.’

  An embarrassed half-smile flickered across Cade’s face. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered to Shannon. ‘I didn’t mean to cause a problem.’

  But he had, she thought grimly.

  People were turning around, peering towards the back of the room, murmuring among themselves. The couple at the front of the classroom glanced up from their scripts and then looked at each other questioningly.

  Eli’s voice was cold as it cut across the increasingly loud whispers that seemed to fill the classroom.

  ‘That’s enough,’ he said, and the actors playing Stanley and Blanche were silent. ‘What’s going on here?’

  Shannon bowed her head.

  “How could you do this to me?’

  Cade leaned towards her, his voice quick and urgent. ‘It isn’t what you think. I’m here because...’

  ‘I’ll never live this down, never. This will be worse than what happened at the studio. Why are you doing this to me?’

  ‘I’m not doing anything,’ he said, putting his hand on her arm. ‘I’m trying to tell you. I...’

  She flung his hand from her as if it were an insect. Her script fell to the floor unnoticed.

  ‘Eli,’ she said breathlessly, scrambling to her feet as the figure of her teacher loomed over them, ‘I apologize for the disturbance. I know we aren’t supposed to bring visitors to class. Believe me, Mr. Morgan barged in on his own— I certainly didn’t invite him—and then he wouldn’t leave. I’m sorry. I don’t know why he followed me here...’

  The teacher was looking at her as if she’d lost her mind. Then his gaze slid past her and fastened on Cade.

  ‘Mr. Morgan^’ he said with a smile, holding out his hand, ‘I’m delighted you were able to join us today. You’re quite a surprise to the class, as you can see. I’m afraid I neglected to warn them that you might be joining us. I thought I’d wait and see whether you’d show up today or tomorrow.’

  Cade grinned as he stood up and shook Eli’s outstretched hand. ‘I probably should have called and let you know that I was coming, but I was afraid that if I did, you might tell me you’d changed your mind.’

  Shannon’s face burned with humiliation. It was worse than she’d thought. He was there by invitation, as Eli’s guest.

  ‘I told you, Mr. Morgan...’

  ‘Cade, please. Mr. Morgan’s much too formal.’

  Eli smiled. ‘Cade, then. I told you the other day, I’m delighted to have you join the class. I’m sure you’ll be an interesting addition.’

  No, Shannon thought desperately, no, no, no... She watched as Cade returned Eli’s smile with a polite smile of his own.

  ‘I’m grateful to you for taking me on,’ he said pleas­antly. ‘And now I’d be obliged if everybody would just forget I’m here.’ The class laughed and Cade grinned. ‘Believe me, when you people see me act for the first time, you’ll wish I wasn’t,’ he said, and they laughed again.

  The teacher smiled. ‘We’ve had several well-known people in our classes in the past. I promise, we’ll treat you the same as we treat everybody else once we get back to work. Which is exactly what we’d better do,’ he added briskly. ‘Cade, we’re working on Streetcar: I be­lieve I mentioned that when we spoke the other day.’

  ‘Yes, you did. I’m familiar with the play.’

  ‘Well, then, why don’t you follow along? Get the feel of things.’

  Cade nodded and took his seat again, waiting until things had settled back to normal before he looked at Shannon. She was staring down at the floor, and he took a deep breath and leaned towards her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I tried to tell you.’

  She waved her hand and shook her head, afraid of how her voice would sound if she tried to speak.

  ‘It’s not my fault you jumped to the wrong con­clusion,’ he insisted. ‘Will you look at me, damn it?’

  ‘Just get away from me.’

  ‘Shannon, please... ’

  ‘Mr. Morgan...’

  ‘Can’t you call me Cade?’

  ‘I know what I’d like to call you,’ she said, the words exploding from her with fury. ‘I know what you deserve to be called. You egotistical bastard!’

  Was that loud, cracked voice hers? she thought in horror. Yes, it had to be, because there wasn’t another sound in the room.

  And every eye was on her, including her teacher’s.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, closing her eyes as she heard herself. The word had come out sounding as if she were being strangled. She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Sorry,’ she repeated, this time in tones that approximated the normal range of the human voice.

  She forced a smile to her lips; it was almost physically painful to maintain it for the next couple of minutes, but finally people looked away and, after what seemed hours, everybody’s attention was back on the actors reading their scene at the front of the room. She took a deep breath and then reached down to retrieve her script.

  ‘I’ll get that,’ Cade whispered, bending at the same instant. His hand accidentally brushed hers and she pulled back, startled at the sudden heat that enveloped her at the contact.

  ‘I don’t need your help!’

  ‘Come on, Shannon, I said I was sorry.’

  ‘Sorry? Sorry? You could walk on burning coals and I wouldn’t accept your apology.’

  The girl in front of them turned and stared at them and Shannon bit her lip.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured.

  Cade shook his head in disbelief. ‘Terrific. When you say that word, you expect people to accept it as an apology. When I say it, you just get angrier. Maybe you’d like to explain that to me.’

  ‘Look, just let me be, will you? You managed to make a fool of me again... ’

  ‘I had nothing to do with making a fool of you,’ he said, and then he began to laugh softly. ‘I didn’t mean that the way it came out, Shannon. Really, I didn't even know you were in this class.’

  ‘I bet.’

  ‘It’s the truth. I panicked when Crawford gave me a script and told me you and I would be starting rehearsals tomorrow...Now what? My God, woman, must you always look at me as if you wanted to murder me?’

  ‘Crawford said what?’ Shannon gasped. ‘You and I...?’

  •Yeah,’ Cade said slowly. ‘Didn’t anybody tell you?’

  Shannon shook her head. ‘Nobody said a word.’

  ‘Damn! He said your agent spoke to you about it.’

  She shook her head again. ‘Why should she?’ she asked in a harsh whisper. ‘My opinion isn’t worth anything.’

  ‘Look, it’s worth something to me. I...’

  The teacher cleared his throat loudly. ‘We don’t engage in personal chitchat here, Cade,’ he said, peering at them over his reading-glasses.

  It pleased Shannon no end to see a crimson blush spread across Cade’s face.

  ‘Uh—sorry about that,’ he said quickly. ‘I—uh—I was asking Miss Padgett—Shannon—what page we were on.’

  The teacher nodded. ‘Page forty-nine,’ he said. ‘Look, Cade, why don’t you come up here and try a few lines for us?’

  A murmur ran through the classroom and Shannon smiled as Cade’s blush deepened. The game’s up, Mr. Morgan, she thought. Your name and your fame got you into this class; well, now it’s time to ante up or fold your hand.

  ‘I’m not really ready...’

  ‘No one is ever really ready the first time. But we’ve got to start somewhere, and you did say you needed to make rapid progress.’

  Shannon glanced at Cade out of the corner of her eye. The ru
sh of color had faded from his face, to be re­placed by a pale mask. She could see a muscle knotting in his jaw. He turned suddenly, his indigo eyes locking with hers, and her smile faltered.

  There was fear in his gaze but there was something more—a question, perhaps? She turned away sharply and after a second, she heard him draw a deep breath.

  ‘What the hell,’ he murmured, and got to his feet. ‘I need more than rapid progress,’ he said aloud. ‘I need to be an Olivier by tomorrow, Eli. Maybe the play we should be studying is The Miracle Worker.’