Romance Redefined

by SJD Peterson

  “Oh, wonderful. The sensitive routine.” Joyce pushed lank strands of that improbable red hair away from her face. “Just give Edgar some backbone, will you?”

  “Of course he has backbone. Of course he’s going to do the right thing in the end. But does he have to be so damn nasty?”

  “Winthrop, I don’t want a dissertation. Just say the lines, and say them the way I tell you.”

  I clenched my hands. All week Joyce and I had been working up to this disagreement. Joyce wanted me to portray the character as lonely, embittered, and spiteful. I saw Edgar as lonely, impassioned, and confused. Every instinct in me told me I was right about this. Edgar needed to be seen as a character with redeemable qualities. I wasn’t winning any popularity contests with Joyce.

  Jason leaned forward in his chair. “I think we should listen to Ben. The role of Edgar is pivotal. If his tone is off, the relationship between Edgar and Pete will be off too.”

  Joyce glared at Jason. “We agreed that I’m the director on this one. At least, that’s what I thought we agreed.”

  Lindsey, the nineteen-year-old playing the niece, slapped her script shut. Everything about Lindsey seemed pared down—she was slight in build, her hair cropped short, her nails always nibbled to the quick. Put her on a stage, though, and she became bigger than life. She sparkled, a small gem suddenly magnified. She was a very good actress, and she’d given me a few pangs of envy already.

  “Excuse me, everybody,” Lindsey said. “But all we’ve done the whole night is argue about Edgar, Edgar, Edgar. Can we just get on with it?”

  “No,” said Joyce. “We’re done for tonight. Winthrop, when you show up tomorrow, be ready to do it my way.” With that, she left the stage, moving with her usual world-weary air.

  Lindsey, after a resentful glance at me, stalked off too. Only Jason and I remained. The lights glared down on us as if they were as irritated as Lindsey and Joyce. I sighed and reached up to massage the sore muscles in my neck. “I didn’t imagine it would be like this,” I said. “I pictured camaraderie, teamwork. Except that I just can’t keep my big mouth shut, but I really think Joyce is wrong on this. I’ve begun to think of Edgar as a real person. I know him and I have to defend him.”

  “For what it’s worth, you’re right. This play is going to be hard enough to sell as it is. If the audience can’t identify with Edgar, we’ll really be in trouble.”

  “I’m probably opening my mouth again when I shouldn’t, but… I don’t quite understand the hierarchy. You and Joyce.”

  “It’s your basic power struggle,” Jason said ruefully. “Joyce has really had a hard time of it just trying to keep this theater company going. She resents like hell taking me on as an investor, even though she needs me. She doesn’t like sharing her authority yet. She’ll just have to get used to it, though. I plan to make some big changes.” He smiled wryly. “Besides, after she came on to me and I had to inform her she had the wrong plumbing, it sort of put a damper on her good feelings for me.”

  “She came on to you? Wow, I wouldn’t have thought….”

  “What? You don’t think I’m attractive enough that a woman would want to hit on me?”

  “I didn’t mean that at all,” I said quickly. Jason wasn’t ruggedly good-looking, but he was handsome in a cute sort of way. “I only meant that she has to be what? Twice your age?”

  “Age is just a number, and it would be good for you and for me to remember that.” Jason winked at me, then stood and came around to massage my shoulders. “Wow, you really are tense. You need to loosen up.”

  I groaned as Jason’s thumbs pushed on a particularly painful knot. “Arguing with Joyce all night is stressful.”

  “I’m sorry, but honestly, I’m glad you’re standing up to her and fighting for what you think is right. I have faith that you’ll make Edgar a real and unforgettable character.”

  “Thanks.” Jason’s praise and his talented fingers allowed me to let go of some of the tension. I relaxed back against the chair, took deep calming breaths, and felt the stress seep slowly from me.

  “Are you hungry? We could grab something at that little diner I’ve been trying to get you to try.”

  “Depends on your intentions,” I said.

  “My intentions are filling my stomach with great food and enjoying your company,” Jason explained.

  I slipped out of my chair and turned to face him. “And that’s it?”

  “Yes,” he insisted. “You know I want to get to know you better, but I also know your life is complicated, you think you’re too old for me, and there’s some guy you’re involved with, sort of. Did I cover everything?”

  “Pretty much,” I agreed.

  “Good, then how about two actors go enjoy a great pastrami sandwich as a reward for our hard work. My treat.”

  Every evening this week after rehearsal, Jason had asked me to dinner. And every evening I’d given him the same answer—no. Either it was his new approach or he was wearing me down because I couldn’t think of a single reason not to accept his offer. More importantly, I wanted to accept it. I was starved and pastrami sounded a lot better than the frozen dinner waiting for me at home.

  “All right, lead the way.”

  “Great!” Jason beamed.

  I stuffed the script into my messenger bag, then went down the stage steps, Jason right next to me. We walked all the way to the door, but then I turned and glanced back. It really was a decrepit theater, with its tattered seats and faded curtains, but it still seemed special to me, a place for magic.

  “Gets to a person, doesn’t it?” Jason murmured as if reading my thoughts. “Even when I was a kid, I was fascinated by the contrast, the stage all lit up, the darkened theater. I’d sit in the audience and it felt to me like those people on the stage were in a different land. A land where I longed to be.”

  “That’s exactly how I felt as a child,” I admitted. “I always thought once you stepped onto that stage, it was like going through an invisible door into another world.”

  We stood together for a moment, sharing a quiet companionship. It was a pleasant feeling, soothing after the rehearsal I’d just endured. I allowed the moment to draw out a bit, and then I left the theater with Jason.

  Night had fallen, but the air still seemed close. It pressed in on me with all the grime and soot of the day. I said a small prayer for the wind to blow hard enough to chase away the heat and the dirt.

  A black limousine pulled up at the curb. It was a vehicle I knew altogether too well, and it looked completely out of place on this squalid street. Nonetheless, a tinted window slid down and a familiar face peered out. My mother.

  “Benson, there you are, sweetheart! I’ve found you at last.” Mary Grace smiled fondly, apparently forgetting that only last night she’d slammed the phone down in my ear yet again.

  I stepped closer to the car. “Mother, how did you find me?”

  Mary Grace leaned out the window. “Uncle Johnathan is having a wonderful time reviving his connections with the theater. He’s the one who managed to track you down, dear. Very enterprising of him, I must say. Aren’t you going to introduce me to this nice young man?”

  Jason had stepped up to the limo beside me, and he held out his hand to Mary Grace. “Jason Collins. So you’re Ben’s mother. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “How charming,” Mary Grace cooed.

  “Ben and I were just heading down to get something to eat. Perhaps you’d like to join us, Mrs. Winthrop?”

  “I don’t think—” I began.

  “Oh, if you’re sure it won’t be an imposition,” Mary Grace exclaimed, still poking her head out the window of the limousine.

  “Of course not,” Jason said, portraying the very image of geniality. “Ben and I would be delighted to have your company, wouldn’t we, Ben?”

  Mary Grace swiveled her perfectly groomed head and gazed expectantly at me. What a pair. Jason and Mary Grace had known each other only seconds, but already they were a
team. It was highly irritating.

  I grimaced, but I didn’t see that I had much choice in the matter. I was still worried about how Mother was handling her broken engagement, and now that she was right here, I had to take advantage of the opportunity to check up on her. Of course, at the same time, I had to tolerate my mother checking up on me. What a mess!

  “Very well, Mother. Let’s all have dinner together.”

  “Wonderful,” Mary Grace said in a tone of satisfaction. As if on cue, her stiff-faced chauffeur came around to swing open the door of the limousine.

  “Good evening, Mr. Winthrop,” he said to me in very correct tones.

  “Good evening, Vance. How are you?”

  “Quite well, Mr. Winthrop.”

  It was a superficial exchange. Mary Grace surrounded herself by only the most stern and off-putting of employees—people who took their jobs much too seriously in my opinion. While I was growing up, all my nannies had been like that, very serious, very correct.

  I climbed into the limo and was followed by Jason. The blessedly cool air of the vehicle immediately engulfed me. That was one thing about wealth—it was very helpful in matters of climate control.

  A moment later the car purred away from the curb, riding as smoothly as if the shocks were cushioned in silk. That was another thing about wealth—its cushioning effect. I found it exasperating, but at the same time, I couldn’t help sinking back into the comfort of leather upholstery.

  Jason and I sat opposite Mary Grace like two subjects summoned before the queen.

  “How delightful this is,” Mary Grace said. “Now, you must allow me to be something of a bore and take you to Deluca’s, my favorite restaurant. My treat, of course.”

  I winced, for Mary Grace was referring to one of the most exclusive establishments in the entire city.

  “Mother, we had plans. Jason assured me the pastrami at the local diner is delicious, and I am really looking forward to trying it.”

  Mary Grace wrinkled her nose. “You know I don’t like pastrami. Besides, dear. I really am a fuddy-duddy, I’m afraid. Deluca’s is the only place I can possibly eat when I’m in New York. You don’t mind, do you, Jason?”

  “No, of course not. Although, I’m really not dressed for anything upscale,” Jason said.

  For a brief second, I thought I was going to get a reprieve. But of course, I was delusional. Mary Grace waived a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. I have set up for private dining, as I so much wanted to get caught up with what my son has been up to. All those prying eyes and hearing aids set on high. You’re absolutely presentable.” I gritted my teeth. Leave it to Mother to dash my dreams.

  Only a short time later, I left the buffered interior of the limo for the equally buffered interior of Deluca’s. I couldn’t help but wonder what Mary Grace was up to. The woman never did anything without some ulterior motive. I sat across from her at the table and looked her over carefully. Something about her seemed awry. Maybe she was simply too cheery for someone who’d broken off her engagement on the eve of the wedding.

  “Now, Jason, I highly recommend the lobster frittata,” Mary Grace said as Jason settled himself between mother and son. “Of course, there is always the calamari, but I’ve never been very adventurous. What do you think?”

  “Lobster frittata it is,” Jason announced. “So, Mrs. Winthrop, I’d love to hear more about Ben. He’s much too secretive a person.”

  “Please, call me Mary Grace, and I agree with you. Ben most certainly is secretive. If his uncle Johnathan hadn’t found him out, none of us would know about his acting career. A shame because we’re all proud of Benson. Even Hugh, of course.”

  “Hugh?” Jason asked.

  Dammit, here we go, I thought. Irritation crept along my nerve endings. I folded my arms over my chest and sat rigidly. I wasn’t having the least bit of fun. Suddenly the isolation of my drab little apartment and a frozen dinner sounded like heaven on earth.

  Mary Grace leaned toward him confidentially. “Benson’s ex-husband. Surely you know about Hugh?”

  “Afraid not,” Jason said, regarding me now.

  “Oh, dear, I’ve put my foot in it.” Mary Grace looked pleased. She didn’t say anything more, allowing Hugh’s name to linger evocatively in the air.

  I refused to let Mother’s manipulative tactics get the better of me. I perused the menu with great deliberation.

  It was Jason who finally broke the charged silence. “I’ve never been married,” he remarked. “Did I tell you that, Ben?”

  “Yes, I believe you did.”

  “Thought so. Sometimes those little details between two people can be important,” Jason pointed out.

  I glanced over the top of the menu. “Jason, I’ve only known you a week.”

  “Sometimes a week is all it takes,” he said seriously, addressing Mary Grace. “I like Ben. I wish I could get to know him better. But he didn’t even tell me that he has an ex lurking in the wings.”

  “In the wings? My, I like that. You really are an actor. But Benson hasn’t always been so reticent,” Mary Grace went on. “It’s only been this past year, since he left Hugh. That’s really the way it was, you know. He left Hugh. It’s all quite a puzzle.”

  “I’ll say.” Jason paused. I couldn’t tell if he was really thinking or doing it for flare. He was an actor, after all. “With Ben, it’s one puzzle after another. For instance, he keeps being mysterious and telling me he’s involved with someone, but I never see him around.”

  “Goodness,” said Mary Grace, looking concerned. “A mystery man. I hadn’t counted on that.”

  I closed the menu and curled my hands into fists. What I really wanted to do was throttle both my dinner companions. “This conversation is mesmerizing, but I’d like to change the subject—”

  “Benson, who on earth are you involved with?” Mary Grace persisted. “Who is this mystery man?”

  “Wouldn’t we all like to know,” Jason put in.

  The two of them stared at me. I stared back unflinchingly, purposefully keeping my features neutral. A herculean effort considering what I really wanted to do was get my ass up and walk out. Instead I sat there with the two of them acting like inquisitors. Well, they could question me all they wanted. I wasn’t about to confess that my ex and the so-called mystery man were one and the same. It would be mortifying, particularly as I wasn’t involved with Hugh. I had made a mistake—two mistakes—that was all.

  I picked up the menu again. “I’m ready to order.”

  Mary Grace stared hard at me but then retreated behind her own menu. “I really do hope you’re going to have the lobster, Benson.”

  “Nope. I’m going for the chicken terrine.” I knew it didn’t matter what I ordered. I doubted that anything would sit well on my stomach.

  Jason and Mary Grace behaved themselves reasonably well throughout dinner. The two of them chatted like old friends, but that was a problem. Mary Grace had so easily intruded on my new life, and Jason seemed to be having a grand time. Apparently, I was the only one who wasn’t.

  At last, the meal was over. I hadn’t eaten much; the nervous rumbling in my gut wouldn’t allow it. But no matter, I had a half gallon of ice cream with my name all over it at home. Ice cream at night, like coffee in the morning, made the world bearable. I pushed my chair back with relief, but Jason and Mary Grace prolonged matters. They pursued an involved discussion over who should pay. Finally, I snatched the bill, cringed when I saw the amount, and handed it to Mary Grace.

  “Mother, thank you. Jason, you’ll just have to display your masculine pride some other way. And now we’re going!”

  They didn’t argue with me. Thank God. We rode to Jason’s apartment in complete silence. Which was a huge relief because I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. I was tired, cranky, and just over it.

  “Mrs. Winthrop, this has been a most pleasant evening,” Jason said solemnly.

  Mother beamed. “I should hope so. You really are a very nice youn
g man, but it appears that you have a great deal of competition where Benson is concerned. Not only do you have the mystery person to deal with, but I warn you that Benson’s ex is not completely out of the picture.”

  “I’ve always enjoyed competition—”

  Oh, for the love of God. I’d had enough fun for one night. “Good night, Jason,” I said, not even trying to hide my irritation.

  Jason hesitated, looking at me with a questioning expression. I glared at him, leaving no doubt as to how serious I was. Finally, Jason stepped out of the limo, and it glided forward again.

  I sank back against the leather cushions. “All right, Mother,” I said with as much self-control as I could muster. “I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to avoid your own problems with Charles by poking your nose into my life.”

  “Forget Charles. Charles is history. I can’t believe how busy you’ve been, Benson. That nice young Jason is besotted with you, and you have the mystery man as well. Tell me who he is. I simply must know.”

  A strangled snort of laughter escaped me. The whole thing was ridiculous. Somehow, in the space of one evening, I’d managed to acquire an incredibly complicated and nonexistent love life.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I MIXED in a cup of mayonnaise before I realized I was supposed to be making spaghetti salad. I dumped the contents of the bowl into the trash and started over. I had to stop rehearsing lines in my head while working. The character of Edgar was taking over my life—my thoughts, my dreams. After that irritating dinner I’d shared with Mother and Jason, even after the fuss Mary Grace had made about my apartment, I’d dreamed about playing the part of Edgar. The one good thing about Edgar taking over my life, I was starting to get some real insight into the character. I suspected Edgar possessed an inner strength the playwright simply hadn’t allowed for. Now, what was the best way to make that inner strength come out?

  “Hurry it up back there,” Geovanni called from up front.

  I cranked open a bottle of Italian dressing. Geovanni never addressed me by name. I wondered if he even remembered what it was. I’d worked here only two months, and I knew I hadn’t exactly impressed anyone with my skills during that time. But making salads and refilling vegetables and dressing all day wasn’t dazzling work to begin with.