She smiled, glad to see the nagging cough wasn’t spoiling his appetite.
“Let’s see…” Jenna counted on her fingers as she listed things off. “I thought I was going to get fired. Then I told off my understudy, nasty Maggie, who just happens to be Trevor’s girlfriend. Then the director told me something was missing in my part, so I told him I thought the whole performance was too slick and lacking substance. Thennnn…I did my best to talk Trevor into moving rehearsals into a decrepit theatre in the hopes of finding the show’s soul.” Jenna slumped back in her chair, overwhelmed.
“Did he agree?”
“Amazingly so. We rehearse there tomorrow.”
“Sounds to me like you had a very productive rehearsal. Are you ready to commit now?”
Jenna sat up, nodding. She handed Don a napkin and grinned at him.
“Good. Let’s get to work.”
****
Walking into the old theatre the next day, Jenna couldn’t think of a time she’d been more nervous. The plate of chocolate chip cookies she carried wobbled in her shaky hands and she said a silent prayer, hoping chocolate would work its magic on these potentially angry actors just as it always did on her. She knew all of them were used to working with real money and here she was, demanding they strip themselves down to the bare minimum and build from there. Who was she to suggest such a thing? It was like she had been drunk the day before, making rash and illogical choices. But the strange thing was, Trevor was right there making them with her.
Still holding the cookies, Jenna ambled down the audience aisle and toward the stage. She glanced at Larry, sitting front and center, scribbling furiously in his notes. Jenna peered about as actors made their way around the new stage, reading their lines as if nothing had happened. She placed the cookies on a seat in the front row of the audience. Before she could remove her hat and coat and slide on her rehearsal skirt, Christina made her way from behind the curtain.
Christina’s gaze locked on Jenna’s. “Are you responsible for this?”
Jenna bit the inside corner of her cheek. What could she say except the truth? “Yes, I am.”
There were no excuses to be made. She was the most insignificant person here, yet last night, she had wielded the greatest amount of power. This was her doing, and she would have to take the flack for it. Out of the corner of her eye, Jenna spotted Trevor watching them. For a moment she was sorry she had pushed him into making this decision. She could walk away from this show virtually unscathed, but it was his reputation and his friends’ reputations on the line here.
“Marvelous,” Christina announced, clapping her hands together.
“E-excuse me?”
“It’s marvelous.” Christina walked to Jenna. “May I take your hands, dear?”
Jenna nodded, certain Trevor must have shared the gory details of her audition, and how she freaked when Trevor touched her. Jenna squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and the other woman reached out and grasped Jenna’s hands. Christina’s touch was warm and soft, making Jenna long for her mother.
“Excuse the sweaty palms, my dear.” Christina tossed her head gracefully. “I’m afraid it’s time for ‘the change.’”
Jenna giggled, caught off guard by the candor.
Christina smiled again. “This was the answer we needed. We all”—she turned and faced Maggie as she said this—“all of us, need a little more reality in our lives.” Christina released Jenna’s hands and spun in a large, dramatic circle. “This is theatre, people. Let’s make some magic.”
Trevor applauded and Christina took a tiny bow, smiling. She blew a kiss at Trevor and curtseyed to Jenna.
“Let’s go, folks.” Larry stood up and walked forward, shoving a cookie into his mouth absentmindedly. “Jenna, these are delicious.”
Jenna smiled, her tense shoulders relaxing for the first time all day.
“All right, people. Act three, scene two. Places.”
****
Two freaking weeks. Every night after rehearsal, for two solid weeks, Jenna ducked out of the theatre and ran down the street. Where the hell was she heading? Probably running to a boyfriend. Time and again Trevor wanted to ask her for coffee, no big deal, just to bond as cast mates. If they could find some ease and relaxation together in their real life then maybe they could find it onstage too. At least that’s what he told himself.
Why was it so difficult to ask her for coffee? It wasn’t like he was asking her on a date—there was no way in hell he could do that. He just wanted to take her for coffee at the little diner next door. He wanted to pick her brain, to surround himself with her realness and grit. All his years on the soap wedged a very tall, solid gold wall between his life and reality and he wanted to remember, to know what realness looked like and sounded like…and felt like.
Gazing at her packing up her messenger bag, his body ached with a longing he’d never before experienced. He wanted to pick up their conversation from the night when she showed him the theatre. He wanted to know more about her father, her life, and her. But every night she disappeared as soon as the last words were spoken. Sometimes Trevor was quick enough to catch a glimpse of her running down the street but often she was gone before he’d even collected his script.
Tonight, he decided, would be different. Tonight he would not let anyone or anything get in his way. He was Trevor Hughes, damn it, Prince of Denmark, and he wanted coffee—with Jenna Joyce.
“Jenna?”
She jumped. “Yeah?” She placed her hand on her heart, turning to him.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you jump.”
“Okay. What’s going on?” Jenna peeked at her watch and slid into her army jacket.
“You in a rush?”
“A bit. Can I help you?”
Those words inspired Trevor. “Actually, you can. I would like your insight on our nunnery scene.”
“I know, it’s flat for me, too.”
This would be so much easier than Trevor ever imagined. “So why don’t we talk about it. Over coffee.”
Jenna shrugged. “Okay.” She threw the strap of her messenger bag over her shoulder.
“Okay?” Trevor ran his hand across the scruff on his chin.
Jenna’s gaze darted up to him. She cleared her throat. “Yeah. Coffee. Talk. Okay.”
“Now good for you?” Trevor’s heart raced as he asked the question.
Jenna looked at her watch again. “No. I have to run now.”
Trevor nodded, disappointment aching in his gut. He was obviously being turned down because of another man and that just didn’t happen to him. He stretched his arms overhead, letting them fall to his sides.
Jenna looked up at him with her giant hazel eyes. “How ’bout later?”
“Later? When?”
“No rehearsals tomorrow, so why don’t you come by my place around nine tonight? Is that okay?”
“Uh, sure.” Trevor tilted his head. He never expected Jenna to ask him to her apartment.
“Oh, but it’s Friday night.” Jenna chewed the corner of her lip. She looked away, like she was pondering a complex math equation and then gazed up at him again. “Don’t you have a date or something?”
She asked the question with no subtext whatsoever, and Trevor shook his head, perplexed.
“No. Don’t you?”
“Yeah, right.” Jenna scoffed. “So my place, then?”
He nodded.
“Great. I’m expecting a call. I need to be home.” Jenna headed for the theatre door, and Trevor followed after her.
“Should I bring coffee?”
“That’d be great.”
“Black?”
Jenna paused and turned back, pulling on those freaking adorable mittens. “Excuse me?”
“Your coffee, black?”
“Oh, yuck, no. Extra cream and four sugars, please.”
“Four sugars?”
“You asked.” Jenna shrugged, making her way up the steps onto the street.
Trevor f
ollowed close behind. Jenna shivered in the cold New York air, and Trevor fought his impulse to give her his jacket to bundle over hers.
“You want to text me your address?”
“Un-uh.” She shook her head. “No cell.”
“You have no cell phone?” Trevor narrowed his eyes, leaning forward when he asked, his body instinctually wanting to protect her.
“You sound like my agent. Nope.”
“What if it’s an emergency?”
That wave of misplaced concern washed over Trevor as Jenna shrugged again.
“Look, I really have to go.” She pointed at her watch and just then, the first few snowflakes started to fall. “Huh…snow.”
Jenna spoke with such girlish enthusiasm, Trevor had to smile.
She turned her soft beautiful face up to the sky and then back to Trevor. “Oh, uh, here.”
Just as Trevor reached into his pocket for his cell to input the information, Jenna yanked off her mittens and dug into her bag, fishing out a pen. She took Trevor’s hand and he tightened with her touch. Her tiny hand opened his and she lifted her pen, grabbing the cap in her teeth, scrawling her address across his palm. She dropped his hand, pushed the pen back into its cap, and plopped it into her bag.
Trevor cleared his throat as she began to walk away. “See you at nine,” he called after her. Despite the strange excitement brewing inside him, he tried to sound relaxed.
“Extra cream, four sugars,” she yelled over her shoulder as she sped away.
Chapter Six
Trevor rocked on his heels as he stood on the sidewalk, waiting for Jenna to buzz him up. It was cold—pre-snow in New York cold—that wet bitterness that cuts through even the warmest of coats.
“Come on up.” Jenna’s voice hummed through the intercom.
Trevor balanced the coffee tray in one hand as he pulled open the door. He stepped inside an old entryway with red paint peeling off the walls. A flight of uneven decrepit stairs lay ahead of him and he glanced around the dark lobby that reeked of cigarettes. He hadn’t been in a building this rundown since…well, since this afternoon when they rehearsed in the theatre Jenna recommended. He chuckled.
“Up here.”
Jenna’s lilting voice called him from above. He looked up, and there she was, hovering above him. An old wall light flickered behind her head.
“Four flights, sorry.” She tossed her hair that fell forward again when she looked down. “But you don’t want to risk that elevator…” She moved her head vaguely in the opposite direction.
Trevor took the stairs two at a time.
She met him at the door. “Impressive.” She smirked. “Two at a time. I tried that once. Nearly killed myself.”
“Your legs may not be quite as long as mine.” Trevor let his gaze casually run over her outfit of a white t-shirt, and gray sweatpants that gathered beneath her knees. He averted his eyes as quickly as he could, but he was certain he saw the outline of light pink lace beneath her t-shirt.
“And you’re not even huffing and puffing. Pretty good. Bet there’s an overpriced trainer somewhere we can thank for that, huh?”
Trevor clenched his teeth. “No, actually I run. That’s it. And I don’t run to stay in shape. I do it to escape.”
Jenna’s eyes grew soulful. “I get that. Sorry.”
Trevor moved the coffee tray from hand to hand. “Can I…can I come in?”
“Oh yeah, sorry.”
Jenna stepped aside, and Trevor walked in. Immediately he was surrounded by the slow, sexy sound of a Seventies classic rock band. He liked it.
“So uh, this is it.” Jenna spun around.
Trevor glanced about, certain this apartment was smaller than his master bedroom.
“There’s the kitchen.” Jenna pointed to a dorm-room sized refrigerator and a cook top with a tiny oven. There was a small sink crammed full of dirty dishes. “Over there’s the closet.” This time Jenna pointed to her clothing rack. “Dining room.” She pointed to a tiny table with two chairs near the kitchen area. “And living room-slash-bedroom.” She pointed to her opened futon, covered in rumpled blankets and dirty clothes. “That’s it.” She put her hands on her hips, triumphantly. “Oh wait. Bathroom.”
Trevor waited for her to point to a tiny pot in some corner of the apartment. Thankfully, the bathroom was a separate room with an actual door.
“Relief, right?” She laughed, as if she could read his mind. Her eyes sparkled. “That there’s a door to the bathroom? It was for me too, the first time I saw this place.”
“It’s nice.” Trevor lied.
“No, it’s not.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “It’s crap. And it’s messy. But it’s cheap, and I’m busy.”
“I get that.” Trevor stood still, holding the coffees.
“For us?” She held out her hand for the tray full of coffees. “Four of them. And oooh, diner coffee. Yum.”
“You didn’t seem like the gourmet chain type of girl to me.”
Jenna’s gaze locked on Trevor’s. “Thanks.”
It was the way she said that one little word, “thanks,” that pulled at his heartstrings. Trevor stood up tall as tension crawled across his shoulders like spiders spinning webs. That one small gesture, thinking about what kind of coffee she might like, elicited such a heartfelt response. Didn’t anyone else care about her feelings? Then he thought about the boyfriend she disappeared to every night and the spiders turned to giant horror-movie-sized tarantulas, weighing heavily on him. Hell, yeah, someone else cared, so he sure as hell shouldn’t—and couldn’t.
“Mine?” Jenna pointed to a cup on the tray.
Trying to keep his feelings in check, Trevor nodded.
She took a sip. “This is heaven, thanks.”
Trevor didn’t budge.
“Oh, I’m sorry. My manners. Sit, please.” Jenna moved a small stack of magazines from one of the kitchen chairs, tossing the magazines onto the bed.
Trevor found his way to the chair and sat awkwardly.
“You look uncomfortable.” Jenna tilted her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Not uncomfortable—”
“Wait a sec.” Jenna bounced the two steps to the kitchen and came back with a cushion. “I used to have cushions on these chairs, and then I washed them and forgot to put them back on. Honestly, I almost always sit in bed when I eat.” Jenna handed Trevor a cushion.
He slid the cushion onto the chair, now fantasizing what it would be like to be in Jenna’s bed with her, devouring Chinese food as they watched a movie.
Jenna’s shoulders slumped forward. “That didn’t help, did it?”
“It’s fine.” Trevor shifted his oversized frame on the tiny chair, feeling uncomfortable for so many reasons. He was so used to being in control and for some reason this tiny person stole the power right out from under him. He ran his hand up through his hair, and he caught Jenna staring at the beads around his wrist. “Mala beads,” he offered.
Jenna stood motionless, mesmerized by his wrist. Trevor flexed slightly, sure Jenna was reacting to the size and strength of his arm.
The phone rang.
Jenna jumped. “Oh, shoot. I nearly forgot. Sorry. Do you mind?”
“Of course not.”
Trevor tried to make himself comfortable on the chair that was surely built for one of Snow White’s dwarfs. He opened his coffee and his script while Jenna answered her phone. He wasn’t the slightest bit surprised by the look of her retro phone. He did wonder, however, who this boyfriend was who let Jenna walk around without a cell phone and invite strange men into her apartment. He tried not to eavesdrop, but in an apartment that size, it was impossible not to.
“Yes, okay thanks. Did you get the last letter?”
Jenna’s gaze shot over to Trevor; it was obviously the boyfriend and a private conversation. He stood up and made his way to the bathroom, the only place he could go to give her some space.
Trevor stepped into the bathroom and put a fist to his mout
h, stifling a laugh. Serious Jenna’s shower curtain was decorated with Papa Smurf and Smurfette. He reached his hand out to the Smurfs, desperately wanting to know more about this woman who could recite Shakespeare in perfect iambic pentameter at the drop of a hat but who had Papa Smurf stare at her every morning while she showered. Trevor glared at Papa Smurf. Lucky bastard.
He stepped back from the curtain. Why was he having these thoughts? Why was he even thinking about Jenna in such a way? He couldn’t. He absolutely could not think of Jenna as anything more than Ophelia.
Jenna giggled and Trevor turned to the door. Who was this guy who was making her laugh? He would love to hear her giggle again, just as she had that night at the theatre. A twinge of jealousy and anger shot down his arms and he balled his hands into fists, clenching and releasing, over and over. Here he was, Trevor Hughes, aka Caspian Locke, multi-award winning daytime drama star, stuffed into a tiny shoebox bathroom, with Jenna’s drugstore brand shampoo and bra she’d left drying over the radiator. His attention drifted to that damned bra. He was thirty-two years old and a complete success…why was he hiding from a little boy on the other end of a phone call and lusting after a girl’s bra? Women threw their bras and themselves at him. That’s it. Trevor pushed open the bathroom door and rushed out.
Jenna gasped as he entered her tiny room. “Um, Mom? I’ve got to go. Trevor Hughes just bounded into my kitchen. No, I’m not kidding. Yes, the boy from the soap opera. Yes, Mom, he is very handsome. I have to go now; Trevor looks as if he needs some attention. Bye.”
Trevor felt such a relief he wanted nothing more than to hold her. Instead, he grabbed his black coffee and slugged it down.
****
Jenna couldn’t explain why the sudden presence of Trevor affected her to her very core. It was the way he entered the room, strong and virile. Something about him standing there made Jenna see him as a man, and not just a pretty boy on television who was also pretty darn good at Shakespeare. But she had to fight that instinct. Despite the fact that underneath it all he was a louse and how bad this would be for the show, she had other pressing reasons she had to remain single.
To Be or Not To Be: The Actors Page 6