To Be or Not To Be: The Actors

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To Be or Not To Be: The Actors Page 3

by Cathrine Goldstein


  Luis chuckled, his dark eyes shining. He threw a rag over his lean shoulder. “Look at it this way, Jen, I’ll bet he remembers you.”

  Jenna dropped her head back down into her hands. “But I had no business doing that. It’s his show. And I needed that role.”

  “You can take a couple of my shifts if you want.”

  Jenna lifted her head and smiled at Luis. “Thanks, but that wouldn’t cut it. And I want out of here, you know? If I keep doing stellar auditions like that, I’ll be working here until I’m thirty.”

  “Hey, working here when you’re thirty’s not so bad.” He lifted his thick black eyebrows and crossed his arms. “Easy on the age stuff, Jen. Thirty’s the new twenty you know.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s cool. I’m just messing with ya. I get it. Trust me. Acting is transcendent. The acting business sucks. But it sucks less than working in a diner forever so do me a favor. Next time you get an audition, stay on the opposite side of the room from your scene partner.”

  “Ugh.”

  Luis handed her a piece of cellophane and she wrapped her cookie then tossed it into her bag. She rubbed the aching blisters on her heels. “And I don’t have forever to wait. You know that, Luis.”

  Luis shook his head and leaned across the counter. “Your plan to make it big one year out of school or else go home is ridiculous. You know that, right?”

  “I don’t have an option.” Jenna looked up at her friend. “That’s why the backup plan. If I can’t support myself here and pay for someone to do my job at the laundry there, Olivia is going to get stuck with the job. And there is no way, no way, I will let her get stuck living her life in that tiny little nothing town.” Jenna swallowed hard. “She’s so smart, Luis. Really, really smart.”

  “I know, Jen.” He sighed. “She’s lucky she’s got you for a big sister. She still wanna be a scientist?”

  “Yeah. And you and I both know she needs to be able to keep her grades up now, not worry about folding clothes. And she needs to go to a good school, but for that to happen, even with scholarships—”

  “I get it.” Luis stood up straight. “But donating your eggs is a crap idea, Jenna. Go be a stripper, like every other struggling actress in this city.”

  Jenna rolled her eyes. “I know you’re a fan, Luis, but every stripper out there didn’t have a four-point-o grade point average giving them this opportunity. This is a huge lump of money, all at once.” Jenna tossed her head back and forth. “Just one donation, and I’ll be able to cover a year’s salary for someone to help out my mom, I can stay here, and Olivia can just focus on school.” Jenna forced away her serious tone. “And this way, I’ll be earning money keeping most of my clothes on.” She grinned.

  “Uh-huh. And what about the fact that your baby is gonna be walking around out there, raised by someone else?”

  She sat back and twirled her fork. “I choose not to look at it that way.”

  “No.” He draped the rag over his arm and stared at Jenna. “You choose not to look at it at all. I know you, Jen. Some people would be cool with this—but not you. This is gonna destroy you.”

  Jenna swallowed hard.

  Luis nodded toward her bag. “You drowning your sorrows in stale cookie?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s pathetic…how ’bout we come around with a bottle later? I’m done at ten. Loretta’s done at nine. We can stop by.”

  Jenna smiled, pushing aside her own worries. “No, way. Un-uh. Thanks, though. Drum roll, please…” Jenna used her hands as drumsticks, sounding a drum roll on the counter. “How long’s it been?”

  “Two years, one month…”

  “And?” She leaned forward, keeping the drum roll going. “C’mon, Luis, my hands are hurting.”

  “…and thirteen days, sober.”

  Jenna finished her drum roll with a clink of a fork on a nearby salt shaker. “Go you.”

  Jenna raised her cup of milk, and Luis toasted with his ice water.

  “Go home to your girl, Luis. Send her my love. You don’t need to babysit me. But thanks.”

  Jenna squeezed her feet back into the painful shoes, and balancing the cup, hobbled her way home with the intention of drowning her sorrows in stale cookie and milk.

  ****

  Jenna unbolted the four locks on her apartment door and fell inside, trying to ignore the blaring phone. This time she didn’t have to guess. It was undoubtedly her agent. Jenna moved to the phone like it was a guillotine; she really didn’t want to explain herself, but she knew if she didn’t answer, Kat would just call and call until she did.

  Jenna lifted the receiver. “Don’t ask—”

  “I won’t.” Kat sounded even more chipper than usual. “I’ll tell. You got it.”

  “Got what?”

  “The role.”

  “Which role?”

  “Jenna, did you hit your head on the way home?”

  “No. What are you talking a—?”

  “You got the role. You are going to play Ophelia, opposite Trevor Hughes’s Hamlet.”

  “Oh, crap.”

  “That’s your reaction? Jenna, we’re talking a big break for you. Off-Broadway. Paid daytime rehearsals. A month-long run. Opening on Valentine’s Day. He’s even paying above Equity scale.”

  “Above scale? Crap.” Jenna leaned against the wall and slid down, curling herself into a tight ball.

  “I don’t understand, Jenna.” Kat sounded confused.

  “Oh Kat, I wasn’t all that good. I was…I was…a mess.”

  “Well, they loved you. You must have done something right. They’re not even asking for a callback. You were that good.”

  “O-okay.” Jenna tripped on her words, trying to make sense of what was happening.

  “Jeez…if this is your reaction now, I can’t imagine what you’ll do when you eventually land a Broadway role.”

  “Sorry. Thanks, Kat. I’m just confused.”

  “Well, get unconfused. And some sleep. Rehearsals start tomorrow. Stop by my office on your way, and we’ll sign the contracts.”

  Kat kept talking about schedules and performance dates, and Jenna scribbled down the address of the theatre then hung up the phone, elated and terrified all at the same time. She dragged herself to her feet and plopped down on the futon bed she never bothered to close then wrapped herself up in the crumpled blankets. Could she handle this? Really handle it?

  On the one hand, she got it. Elation coursed through her like champagne bubbling through her veins. She got the role and this role would most certainly buy her some additional time. But on the other hand, she got the role. Her smile fell away. Confusion knotted her stomach and she rubbed a burning feeling in her chest. To succeed in this business and help her sister, Jenna would have to betray her father and trust the man who had screwed them both. Sure she could handle Shakespeare but could she handle him? The choice really wasn’t hers. She was now Ophelia to Trevor’s Hamlet. For the next ten weeks or so, Jenna Joyce would belong to Trevor Hughes.

  “Oh, crap.” Jenna sighed heavily, pulling the broken cookie out of her bag, and stuffed pieces into her mouth.

  Chapter Three

  Damn it. Now he could feel she’d come into rehearsal without even seeing her. Energy coursed through him, settling in his hands. A vein in his temple throbbed. That would have been bad enough, if the vein had remained the only thing throbbing. But it wasn’t. Trevor excused himself from a conversation he wasn’t really listening to and walked away from his cast mates, to hover near the service table. He pretended deciding between a turkey sandwich and a veggie wrap while he fought to rein in his ridiculous responses to this…this…girl.

  Why the hell did he sense she’d come into rehearsal? What was he now, psychic? He sneaked a peek. She drifted by the entrance to the theatre’s conference room upstairs where they were having their first read-through. She wore a pair of old faded jeans and a green army jacket. Her hair was loose, grazing her
shoulder blades. Her mouth, that damned, luscious, pouty mouth, was slicked with just the right amount of light pink gloss. Perfectly kissable. And the freaking nose ring glimmered when she turned her head. He grabbed a veggie wrap. It was lunchtime but he wasn’t hungry, not in the least. Why the hell was she commanding so much space in his brain? She had way too much power and although he didn’t know why, he knew he didn’t like it.

  Sure, it would have been easier not to cast her but that wasn’t an option. Her audition was natural and real…she teetered on a cliff, grasping for strength and sanity, but underneath she donned a fragility that was heartbreaking. There was only the slightest allusion to Ophelia’s slow descent into madness, and when her Ophelia spoke to his Hamlet, he honestly believed he was the cause of her downfall.

  She had, what they referred to in the business, that “X” Factor, that something that makes you unable to take your eyes off a performer. And that’s what Jenna had. He wasn’t the only one who knew it; Larry spotted it too. Trevor took a deep breath. Larry’s insistence they cast her lessened his guilt a tiny bit.

  “Hey, Trev…you coming?”

  Trevor snapped his head around. He hadn’t even noticed Maggie sauntered up. She stood too close to him and batted her fake eyelashes the way she always did when she was trying to control him, that passive-aggressive way that said, “My father signs your paycheck so you’d better do as I say.” Trevor’s hands balled into fists which he released immediately. How did he get in this position, when he had no interest in a long-term commitment? By being careless, too freaking careless. Who in their right mind dates the producer’s daughter thinking he can walk away whenever he wants to? An idiot, that’s who. The same idiot who was here, trying to break free of the binds suffocating him, four years later.

  All of a sudden Trevor wondered why he ever thought staging Hamlet was a good idea. He could have stayed safe, playing Caspian Locke, villain extraordinaire, with millions of adoring fans worldwide. He could have just been content collecting his impressive paycheck, occasionally showing up at one charity event or another. He could marry Maggie and have a gorgeous wife, with two-point-three beautiful children and live in a cookie cutter McMansion anywhere he wanted in the Tristate area. He could learn to be happy being bored. But no, he had to decide ten years as Caspian was long enough and thirty-two was the age to prove his worth. Because of those decisions, he now had to face villains worse than any he had ever played: the New York theatre critics.

  “Trev? You gonna eat that?” Maggie pointed to the sandwich in his hand and smiled. Her polished white teeth gleamed.

  “Uh, no.” He shook his head, fighting for clarity. “You want it?”

  “What?” Maggie stepped back, grimacing. “It has carbs.” She shook her head. “Why would you offer me something with carbs?”

  “I—” Trevor dropped the untouched sandwich into the trash next to the table, overcome with a desire to go out with a woman who wanted to stuff herself silly with hamburgers and French fries. Do other men have girlfriends who exist on air? Of course he appreciated all the effort Maggie put in to looking good—Pilates three times a week, spin classes twice a week, daily yoga. It took a huge amount of discipline to look like she did. Any man would kill to be with Maggie and that body of hers—large breasts, tiny waist, curvy hips. But the thing was, he and Maggie weren’t having any fun. Spontaneity wasn’t invited into their lives, and all those things he loved to do as a young actor—late night trips to the village, gorging himself on questionable but delicious meals from food trucks, walking the streets of Manhattan at two a.m.—were long gone. Not that he had anything to complain about.

  “Let’s get started.” Trevor clapped his hands together and gestured for Maggie to go before him, but before he could follow, Jenna walked up.

  As Jenna stood before him, a warm sensation radiated through Trevor, replacing the agitation of just moments before. He took a deep breath trying to remain calm, wondering what the hell she was going to say. A slight half-smile turned up the corner of his mouth. He liked her unpredictability.

  “Hi, Trevor.” Jenna extended her hand.

  Ah, this must be her peace offering. He nodded, and took her hand in his. It was warm and amazingly strong, despite her diminutive size. “It’s okay if I touch your hand then?”

  Jenna’s cheeks flushed a bright pink. Damn it. He really didn’t mean to embarrass her. “I, uh…sorry.” He scratched the scruff of his beard, his head pounding.

  Jenna squared her shoulders, looking directly at Trevor. “No, I’m sorry…about yesterday. That was unprofessional and well, just dreadful of me. And for that, I apologize. But it doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t have done what you did, and I’m certainly not sorry for telling you to keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Got it.”

  “Good.” Jenna turned on her heels and then faced him again. “Oh, and thank you for casting me. It was unexpected.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She nodded and walked away. Trevor watched her go, wondering what, exactly, was happening.

  ****

  Finding the spot marked “Ophelia” at the table, Jenna slipped into the oversized leather chair, wiping her sweaty palms against the soft, buttery denim of her jeans. Good Lord. If just talking to the man would cause this crazy mixed up reaction in her, how could she possibly play opposite him? No. No way. She was a professional who desperately needed this job; there was no time for schoolgirl nerves or anger.

  As everyone else found their seats, Jenna shifted in her chair and fiddled nervously with her hands. She finally rested them on the table then flinched from the shock of the cold glass and chrome. She closed her eyes for a moment, calming herself. She was unused to these swank surroundings; she had never before worked in a theatre of this magnitude or with this much budget. She glanced at the bottle of designer water sitting on the table in front of her and looked at a service table on the opposite side of the room, displaying more food than she could eat in a month. Her stomach grumbled in response.

  Trevor cleared his throat. “Uh, everyone, this is Jenna.”

  The cast members mumbled a “hey,” or “hi,” most with their noses buried in their scripts. Jenna looked over the group of seasoned professionals. She recognized a few people from Trevor’s soap opera: an older woman named Christina, who was playing Hamlet’s mother, Gertrude, and another young man playing Hamlet’s best friend, Laertes. They were all very welcoming to Jenna. Well, almost all. Jenna glanced down at her script, her shoulders inching toward her ears under the disapproving glare of Maggie Lourdes, Trevor’s girlfriend. Jenna had recognized Maggie immediately because pictures of Trevor and Maggie were all over the gossip papers flanking the registers at the grocery store.

  Jenna placed her opened palm on her chest, calming her breathing. Of course Maggie would disapprove of Jenna—Maggie was gorgeous—and it only made sense that she would be playing Ophelia. The audience would believe Hamlet was in love with her, just like they believed Caspian was in love with Maggie’s character, Star, on their daytime drama. So why the hell was Jenna playing Ophelia?

  Jenna raised her chin, smiling at Maggie. Maggie’s perfectly arched eyebrows knitted together and she flinched as if Jenna had tossed hot coals into her eyes. She looked away.

  Jenna turned to Trevor and he furrowed his brow. This would be a long ten weeks.

  ****

  Finally, the reading was over and it had been pretty damned successful. After listening to Jenna’s performance Trevor felt even better about his decision to cast her, and even a tad less guilty. She was excellent. Trevor sighed, his adrenaline starting to tank. He desperately wanted to work on his lines tonight but he’d need energy to do it. He needed coffee, real coffee, not that muddy swill the caterer had brought in. He made a mental note to switch the caterer to someone who made decent coffee—for God’s sake, this was New York City, home to some of the best coffee in the world.

  He yawned, raising his arms o
ver his head, before pulling them down forcefully. Yes, coffee was a must. And maybe…how great would it be to sit with someone at a warm busy coffee shop and talk Shakespeare for hours…? He glanced at his watch. Six-oh-seven. There was no way Maggie would be up for coffee now nor was she really into script analysis, especially when all he’d given her was an understudy role. Besides, she’d complain too much coffee would stain her teeth and she’d want to hit the gym for sure, since he’d made her sit there, bored, for hours.

  Trevor leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretching out beneath the conference table. From this vantage point, he saw the actors milling about the room. Jenna hovered near the service table, shoveling in bites of a turkey sandwich while talking to Larry. She polished off the sandwich and grabbed a bunch of grapes. Damn. He chuckled. He’d never before seen a woman eat so fast; it must have been the only meal she had eaten all day…or all week. Huh. The muscles in Trevor’s shoulders tightened, and he sat forward, concerned. No one should be hungry, and certainly not one of his actors. He’d make sure he had food brought in to every rehearsal—and better coffee.

  Laughing at something Larry said, she popped a grape and covered her mouth with her hand, hiccupping. She laughed harder and hiccupped again; her shoulders rising up and down with each hiccup. Larry offered her water. She drank it back and giggled.

  “Trev?”

  Trevor peered around Maggie who peeked over her shoulder and turned back to him, cocking her head. “What’s got you smiling?”

  “Huh?” Trevor glanced up at her standing there in a tight red dress and high boots. Beautiful, beautiful Maggie.

  “What are you so interested in?”

  “Nothing.” Trevor pushed his chair back and stood to his full six-foot-two inches. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed Jenna looking at him.

  “I’m gonna head to the gym. You, uh, coming?”

  Trevor focused on Maggie. The way she spoke. She really didn’t seem to have the slightest interest in whether he went or not. “Do you want me to come?”

 

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