The Rise and Fall of a Theater Geek

by Seth Rudetsky

  “Justin, you wanted me to intern there. Why? Because you always think you know what’s right for everyone.”

  Well, I do! I thought.

  Then I clarified my thought. I mean, I don’t always think I know what’s right for everyone. I always know what’s right for everyone! Wait. Is that the same thing? Isn’t one better than the other?

  Spencer spoke. “I think what Becky means is sometimes you’re…” He trailed off.

  “I’m what?” I asked.

  “Well,” he slowly said, “you can be a little…selfish.” What? “I mean, you sometimes bulldoze your way into getting what you want without thinking how it will affect anyone else.”

  Selfish? Me?

  Becky joined back in. “Justin, I never asked you to get me the GlitZ internship.”

  That’s like someone saying, “I never asked for this pot of gold.” Where was the gratitude? I mean, maybe the internship wasn’t turning out the way she wanted, but it was high profile and in New York City! I shook away any doubt about my actions and went on the attack. “Yeah,” I said, feeling mind-boggled that she wasn’t more appreciative, “you’re right. I’m completely to blame. I made the call, I gave them your name, and I got you an internship at a world-famous place. You didn’t have to do anything.” I should have stopped there. Unfortunately, I added another sentence. “As usual.”

  It was like all the noise in Starbucks was sucked into a vacuum. It seemed totally silent.

  Becky finally spoke. Slowly. “What does that mean?”

  Well, I started it, I thought. I might as well finish it.

  I spoke calmly. “You don’t usually do things for yourself, Becky, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “No, Justin, I haven’t noticed.”

  Really? How could she not realize all I’ve done for her? “Then let me spell it out for you. When your dad was about to transfer you out of school, I figured out a way to stop him. Remember? And I was the one who pushed you to audition for the chorus solo, which you then got. Then I was the one who gave you the opportunity to sing at last year’s Spring Fling, which finally convinced your father you didn’t want to be a doctor. I was also the one who told you about Usdan summer camp and talked the camp director into letting you come to the callbacks even though you missed the auditions. And those are just the highlights.”

  “You’ve been keeping score? How could you—”

  “So, yes,” I interrupted. “I knew I’d have to find an internship for you because you always need someone to hold your hand!”

  That was it. Becky and Spencer both looked at each other and then, as if choreographed, they got up and walked out of Starbucks.

  I sat there by myself and watched them walk down Columbus Avenue.

  It was my first night in New York City and I was now friendless.

  I sat in that Starbucks for around an hour.

  At first I stared out the window till I could no longer see Spencer and Becky. It was getting crowded but I felt very alone.

  Over the past year, whenever Spencer and I had a disagreement, I would go to Becky to talk it through. And the few times I’d had it with Becky’s wishy-washiness, Spencer helped me get past my annoyance. I had no backup plan to deal with both of them teaming up and dropping me.

  Spencer called me selfish! And Becky said I would do anything to get what I wanted!

  Was that true?

  I knew I could call my parents, but whenever I have a problem, they’re not interested in just listening. Instead, they immediately spring into action and try to solve it. It always involves some wacky scheme that backfires on all of us or some New Age/love-yourself technique they learned from watching Oprah reruns that doesn’t work but involves things like being barefoot and chanting. If I told them what happened, they’d probably drive into the city, pick me up, take me to Spencer and Becky’s apartment, and then make us act out our feelings in a game of charades. I considered turning to my grandmother for comfort but then realized I could simply walk in front of a cab and get the same result. I had a quick inclination to track down Devon just to have someone to chat with about it, but I just met him and I want to maintain the image that I’m totally together. Why would he ask out someone who was just dumped by his ex-boyfriend and his best girlfriend? Yes, he’d probably give me comfort but a part of him would wonder if I deserved it.

  Frankly, I wondered if I deserved it. After all, I did see those posts online about GlitZ and didn’t tell Becky. And I guess part of me knew that the praiseworthy posts were probably planted by someone at GlitZ. And even though I was trying to be helpful, I did harass Spencer for weeks, telling him to intern in Manhattan.

  Was it all my fault?

  Argh! I needed to talk to someone but who? I reached for my iPhone twice before I realized I couldn’t call Becky or Spencer.

  I stared at my empty cup and felt very immobilized.

  Finally, I realized I had to move. Whenever I feel upset, I know that I can only feel better if I do something. First, I made a decision that none of what happened was my fault.

  At all.

  I mean, yes, I set their internships in motion, but Becky could have said no and Spencer never should have said yes.

  They were both free agents and I bore no responsibility for their current situation. Case closed.

  I took a deep, cleansing breath and the guilt washed off of me.

  Ahhhh.

  Then I got myself up and ordered another latte. It was essentially my first latte of the night since the one I ordered before was polished off by ol’ Sticky Fingers. Right before I took the first sip, I snapped a picture of myself with the latte next to my mouth (I love that reverse photo thing on iPhones) and posted it on my blog. Excellent! I looked 100 percent happy. I captioned the photo with “Yay NYC. Finally freedom! No teachers, parents, or ANYONE ELSE telling me what to do!” I hoped Spencer would go to the site tonight and see how unaffected I was by his and Becky’s betrayal. I also hoped Devon would read it and consider asking me out. I looked like an independent guy who was totally at peace sitting by himself for hours. After I posted that picture, I immediately became anxious from sitting by myself, so I gulped the rest of the latte down and hightailed it outta there.

  Even though I decided the night’s events weren’t my fault, I still felt bad about some of the stuff I said. And I really felt bad about some of the stuff they said to me. I wanted to shut the dialogue out of my head. I thought I would go lie in bed blasting A Chorus Line through my headphones, but when I got to the corner of Eightieth Street, I didn’t turn to go to the apartment. I took a quick look at my watch and saw that only an hour had passed, so Devon could still be there playing one of Grandma Sally’s endless games. I was scared that as soon as I walked in he’d be able to tell I was depressed and that would ruin the chances of him asking me out. I hoped instead that he’d go home tonight, look at my website, and want to be part of my amazing happy-go-lucky life. I know I have a much better chance getting a date from him if he envies, not pities, me.

  I continued down Amsterdam Avenue and passed by Josie’s. There was a couple sitting next to the window, both eating from one big bowl of roasted vegetables. Seeing all those veggies made me immediately think of Spencer and his fondness for unpronounceable food like quinoa. I’m a vegetarian but at least I have the courtesy to eat things like tofu and beans, words that sound like they’re spelled. Still, quinoa is one of Spencer’s favorites, so I walked over to the menu in the window to see if they carried it. Yes! I opened my phone to text him but when I did, I saw the picture of me sitting alone at Starbucks and I suddenly remembered everything that happened. I immediately put my phone back in my pocket and crossed the street. Unfortunately, the next thing I passed was Levain Bakery, which has the best chocolate chip cookies in New York. Even if you don’t want to go in and buy one, it’s difficult to resist because the smell of the cookies wafts out and permanently settles in the air, forcing you to enter and purchase a dozen. Mmm. I stood right outside
the door, and though the bakery was closed, I still had the delicious sensation of living inside a cookie. I breathed in the chocolaty sweetness, which made me think of the brownies I baked and used to manipulate Becky into trying out for the chorus solo last year. Ah! Why did my mind keep going to Spencer and Becky? If they were able to walk out on me at Starbucks, why couldn’t they also walk out of my memory?

  Why don’t you try to work it out? Tell them you’re sorry for whatever you did wrong. They’re both upset and need your support.

  N-O!

  I refuse to have Spencer in my head telling me to apologize to Spencer in real life! I put my fingers in my ears and started walking briskly down Columbus Avenue.

  Excellent. I didn’t hear Spencer anymore.

  I kept walking down Columbus Avenue till I got to the famous Magnolia Bakery, which made me think about Chase. I don’t know why it made me think of him, but his face suddenly popped into my head. Hmm…maybe because I had passed by Seventy-Second Street and the Dakota. Or…wait a minute! Maybe his face popped into my head because I just passed his face drinking a cappuccino! I walked back up Columbus and looked in the window again. He was wearing a baseball cap like he did at Phantom, and this time he sported sunglasses, giving the full celebrity “Don’t recognize me” look. I suppressed my need to walk in and tell him that wearing sunglasses after nine o’clock at night actually draws more attention. I stopped myself because I knew he probably didn’t want to be disturbed, but I couldn’t resist taking a closer look. If the rest of my internship is anything like today, I may never get to spend any time with him and I didn’t want to go back to Long Island having never been near him at all. Also, he had a laptop open in front of him, and I was excited to use the snooping skills I’ve perfected over the years on an actual famous person. I decided I’d look at the menu in the window as my ruse to get close to him.

  I walked right up to the glass, but annoyingly, the lights from passing cars kept reflecting through the window and onto the screen of his laptop, so I was having trouble reading it. I knew I’d be able to see the screen clearly once there was a red light and the traffic died down, but then I noticed that what I thought was a menu in the window was actually the grade that the board of health gave the restaurant. I realized I couldn’t stand there much longer without arousing suspicion, because how long could I pretend I was reading the letter “A”? Suddenly, Chase looked up from his computer and right at me. I quickly turned my head to leave but dropped my bag, and various pens and pencils fell out. Ah! As I was fumbling on the ground to pick them up, I heard my name.

  “Justin! Come out of the cold!”

  Chase was holding open the door. Wow! He knew who I was.

  “Hi, Chase!” I said, standing up. A big star inviting me into a restaurant. Yes! What a nice way to end a crappy night. Take that, former best friends!

  Then I thought about what he said. It wasn’t an actual invitation to join him. All he did was tell me to come out of the cold. Maybe he was just concerned I’d get sick and not be able to intern for him anymore. Selfish. And yet…while I was hanging up my coat, he sat back down at his table and I noticed there was another chair that I could easily sit in.

  Dare I?

  Hmm. Better be certain.

  “Is Hubert sitting here?” I asked, forcing myself to pronounce it the moronic French way. I eyed the door to the bathroom where he probably was.

  “No,” said Chase. “Sit down.”

  Wow! No way to misinterpret that! I was so excited to have a one-on-one conversation with him! I sat down and decided to start off with a bang. I knew the sick passenger on the ferry story would get a laugh and if he thought I was funny, he would tell Hubert I had to spend all day by his side at rehearsal. But before I launched into it, he got a text.

  He read it, then looked back up. “Sorry, that was my publicist. What was I saying?” he asked. “Oh, Hubert,” he answered himself. “I gave him the night off. He had a rough day.”

  He did? I thought. I’m the one who went all the way to Staten Island today.

  “Yeah,” he continued. “He went all the way to Staten Island today.”

  Wait. Didn’t I just think that sentence but with a different pronoun?

  “What?” I asked.

  “I said I gave Hubert some time to decompress because he spent the day on Staten Island.”

  “No, he didn’t—” I started, but then realized I should probably be careful, so I repeated myself but this time changed my outrage to empathetic shock. Gasp! “No! He didn’t!”

  “Yes! Poor guy,” Chase said, and shook his head. “He was stuck there all day.”

  What a crock! But I knew I shouldn’t reveal the lie.

  “He was checking to see if my dog had a bladder infection.”

  I was outraged about the lying but Chase misinterpreted my facial expression.

  “You look so concerned! Don’t worry, he’s fine.” He smiled broadly.

  I was about to tell Chase that Hubert was lying but then thought twice. I’d be seeing Hubert tomorrow and didn’t want to make him an enemy. Right?

  But shouldn’t Chase know the truth about someone who worked for him?

  Ugh! Where were Spencer and Becky when I needed advice?

  “Thanks for sitting with me,” Chase said, indicating his laptop, which was still open in front of him. “I needed a break.”

  I knew I shouldn’t be nosy but couldn’t resist. “What are you doing?” I asked, trying to use X-ray vision to see through the back of his laptop.

  “I’m going over new lines and trying to memorize them.”

  “Do you need help?” I asked anxiously. This is the kind of thing I wanted to do for my internship! “I can read the other lines with you.”

  He suddenly lit up. “That would be great!” He started turning the laptop toward me. “I could have used help this afternoon but Hubert was on Staten Island and I knew you didn’t get into New York till the evening.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  He looked confused. “Hubert said you were taking a late train to the city and had to get settled. Right?”

  Boy, Hubert was pushing it with the lies. I decided I shouldn’t contradict him. Yet.

  “Right! What I meant was that my train got in late afternoon but it took through the evening to get settled.”

  He nodded and told me to begin at the top of the computer screen. The lines were in two different colors.

  “Are we only reading the red lines?”

  “We’re reading everything. The red lines are the new ones that were just added.”

  It was exciting to actually see the script. I had read on Playbill.com that the show was about two small-time 1940s Southern jewel thieves, a guy and a girl, who wind up in the same town. At first they try to sabotage each other, but at the end of the first act, they decide to team up and pull a big heist. By the finale, they wind up falling in love and leave behind their life of crime; he becomes the sheriff of the town and she becomes the mayor. It’s a light story, but the rumor on all the Broadway message boards is that the score is great and the dialogue is fast and funny.

  “OK,” I said, scrolling to the top of the screen, “here I go.”

  “Oh, Jake!” I said with a Southern accent. “You’re always jokin’! You pulled my leg twice. What are you gonna pull next?”

  “Well, you know what they say,” Chase replied. “The third time’s the arm.”

  Huh?

  That was a joke?

  I then realized that it was a play on the expression “third time’s the charm.” Oy! If the audience took as long as I did to get the joke, then Chase’s line would be followed by dead silence for ten seconds and then slight, barely discernible smiles.

  “Is something wrong?” Chase asked. “Did you lose your place in the script?”

  Uh-oh. I was concentrating so hard on understanding the joke that I forgot to come in with my next line. But since we were stopped, I decided to ask a question.
>
  “That last joke was in red. That means it’s new, right?”

  “Exactly.” Chase grinned. “The joke that was there before was too funny.”

  Huh? “What does that mean?”

  “During rehearsals, it always got a big laugh from the rest of the cast, so…” He looked like he was waiting for me to say his next sentence. I didn’t know where he was going with it so I slightly shook my head. Finally, he spoke again like he was reciting an age-old theory. “Big laughs on Broadway are for the comic sidekicks.” He sat up straighter. “I’m the leading man. It’s bad to confuse the audience.” He winked. “I’m glad my intern is learning something!”

  What the—

  I wanted to say, “You’re the one who needs to learn something! It’s fantastic if a leading man gets laughs. It makes the audience like him more.”

  I was about to pipe up when he got another text.

  “It’s from Hubert.”

  Another lie about me?

  “Oh no!” he said. “I totally promised to get milk.” Then he flashed his famous Chase smile. “Hubert’s having a late-night cereal attack.” He grabbed his coat. “I better go.”

  Promised to get milk? That means Hubert stays with him. Were they a couple? No way. I read in Us Weekly that Chase has been dating the girl he played opposite in Vicious Tongues off and on for years. Of course, whenever they break up, he has some beautiful supermodel on his arm.

  But still, Hubert lives in his apartment? I mean, I’m sure those Dakota condos have a multitude of guest rooms, but wouldn’t Chase rather have his own place?

  And why is Chase buying the milk? Isn’t it more important that he learn his lines? Quite frankly, does Hubert do any actual assisting?

  “Thanks for your help, Justin.” He put down a twenty-dollar bill and smiled. “Get yourself a cupcake on the way out.”

  Nice! “Thanks, Chase.” Definitely yellow cake with chocolate frosting.

  “I hope I see you tomorrow,” he said as he pulled on his North Face winter coat.

  “I’ll be there bright and—”

  “But Hubert already told me you have an intern orientation meeting tomorrow”—I do not!—“so you can’t come by the theater tomorrow.” I can too! “See ya soon!” And he was gone.