The Final Act

  Dedication

  To all theater lovers both onstage or in the audience. Both are wonderful places to be.

  Overture: Casting Call

  “Elena, take it from the middle of page twenty-three, Kathleen’s line, ‘I want to know you. Really know you’.” The disembodied voice spoke from the back of the dark, empty theater like God speaking from on high.

  Elena’s heart pounded. Blinded by the stage lights, she nodded in the direction of the voice. She cleared her throat and turned to the actor she was reading with, Michael, whose last name she’d already forgotten. Looking into his vibrant blue eyes, she mustered sincerity, her voice nearly breaking.

  “I want to know you. Really know you, Aaron. You hide behind your attitude and, after all this time, I feel like I still haven’t met the real you.”

  He grinned and held his palms open, apparently not needing the script tucked in the back pocket of his jeans.

  “This is it. I don’t get any deeper. Sorry, I’m just not that complicated. Did you want me to make shit up?”

  Elena faltered, distracted by the natural ease of his delivery and his unearthly eyes. Glancing at her script, she found her place.

  “Do you always have to joke? Can’t we ever have a serious conversation?”

  “I am being serious.” His smile widened.

  Elena wanted to slap the smirk off his face. He made it easy to play irritation. She turned away from him with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Whatever.”

  “Good, Elena,” the director, Phil Pender, called. “But you sound more snippy than deeply disappointed. Remember, you’ve been trying to get Aaron to open up to you for years. Show me the frustration.”

  Elena shielded her eyes from the stage lights and peered into blackness of the Oberon. Somewhere in the back of the house, Pender and the assistant director were watching and taking notes. Was she blowing her audition?

  “I’m not sure I know where Kathleen is at emotionally at this point in the story. Is she feeling more angry or resigned?”

  Michael Something laughed.

  Elena glanced sideways. “What?”

  “It’s obvious. She wants to fuck Aaron, but she’s scared to admit it so she makes up excuses to push him away, like saying he’s too shallow.”

  She stared at him, unable to believe he’d said “fuck” aloud at an audition. “That’s how you read this?”

  Michael rested his weight on one leg and cocked the other casually. He wore torn jeans, a T-shirt and dirty tennis shoes, and seemed as comfortable as if they were reading in a friend’s living room instead of auditioning for the national touring company of a Broadway hit.

  “Yeah. She wants him, but she can’t make it easy for either of them so she’s throwing up barriers.”

  If I lose this chance, it’ll be his fault. She’d made it through the open call and been invited back to read for the role of Kathleen. After she’d worked so hard to earn this chance, her future pivoted on this moment. Damned if she’d let an arrogant ass screw things up.

  “It’s true that Kathleen might be afraid to trust Aaron, but it’s his issue, not hers, this scene is examining. His coldness. His inability to open up is what it’s about. She wants him to show he really cares.”

  “Well, there you go.” The smirk was in Michael’s voice as well as on his face. “You think her motivation is to get the guy to open up. So can we get back to the reading?”

  Elena glared at the cocky bastard.

  “Wait a minute,” Pender called.

  There was a long pause. Under the hot lights, sweat beaded on Elena’s forehead. She looked down at the black-painted stage floor, still marked with positioning tape from the last production. A revival of Camelot had been the most recent show at the Oberon. She envisioned Guinevere standing in this spot singing, or maybe King Arthur giving his soliloquy about what it meant to be a king and she felt a sudden surge of joy simply to be standing on the same stage.

  She glanced at her acting partner. Michael had pulled the script from his pocket and was flipping through it.

  “I like your energy together,” the director continued. “I want you to read from Act Two, Scene Five. You’ll find it on page, uh, Carrie, what’s the page number?”

  The assistant called it out, and the two actors turned to nearly the end of the script.

  “I assume you’re both familiar with the play.”

  Elena smiled. She knew practically every line of Transitions by heart and had seen it a half-dozen times since it opened on Broadway her senior year in high school. It was the catalyst that made her love for theater turn into a lifetime commitment. Against her mother’s wishes, she’d entered the theater program at NYU for the dream of someday playing Kathleen in Transitions. Michael Something may be irritating, but he was right: Elena knew Kathleen’s character inside and out and hadn’t really needed direction.

  “Turn to the scene where Kathleen returns and Aaron finally breaks down. Right before the reprise of ‘Don’t Hurt Me’. I know this is supposed to be a line reading, but I want you to go straight from Aaron’s speech into the song.”

  Elena nodded.

  “Michael, I want you to rip my heart out. I know you can act like a smart-ass. Now show me some range.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Elena, reading ahead on her lines, looked up to find her partner doing the same before he stuck the script in his back pocket again. It pissed her off. Did he have a photographic memory or something? He was going to suck. With his blasé attitude, the character would fall flat, which would make her look bad, too. Why couldn’t she have been paired with Denny Reeves? She already knew him from a few classes they’d taken together and from other auditions. She was confident in his talent, comfortable with him and wouldn’t feel so weird when they had to kiss.

  “Begin,” Pender said.

  She breathed in and out three times then spoke.

  “Hello, Aaron.” Recalling how she used to feel when she saw her high school boyfriend and the world around them disappeared, she smiled at Michael and interjected the remembered joy and excitement into her voice and eyes.

  He looked up as if just seeing her and froze. The expression of shock on his face slowly bloomed into hope.

  “Kathleen.” He exhaled the name as if he’d been holding his breath since she left, as if her name had been locked inside him and was finally released. A slow smile curved his lips, and his face glowed from within.

  An answering heat pulsed inside Elena. She took a few tentative steps across the stage toward him. “I-I’m sorry I left the way I did. I didn’t mean it to end so badly.”

  He crossed the distance between them, enfolded her in his arms and leaned down to kiss her. His mouth covered hers, hot, wet and urgent.

  Elena responded instinctively. Her mouth opened under the pressure of his lips and her hands slid up his chest to hook over his shoulders. Her heart hammered and her blood rushed at the unexpected contact. It’s too soon. We’re not at this part in the script yet. What the hell are you doing?

  Michael finally pulled away, but kept his hands spread on her back, holding her body close to his. Looking into her eyes, he gave Aaron’s big speech. His eyes glistened and his voice shook as he spoke the lines. By the end, tears wet his cheeks.

  Elena was beyond acting, and was totally reacting at this point. Genuine tears of sympathy prickled her eyes. She bit her trembling lower lip.

  “That’s it.” Michael finished the monologue, his voice hoarse with emotion. “That’s all I can tell you about me. Is it enough?”

  She lifted her hand and touched the side of his face. “It’s all I ever wanted.”

  The piano played the delicate opening strains of “Don’t Hurt Me”. Elena didn’t have time to think before she had to
sing. Opening her mouth, she let the melody pour forth. The reprise reflected the earlier rendition of the song in which Kathleen begged Aaron to commit to her.

  This time it was mostly Aaron’s song. After Elena’s first two lines, Michael took up the melody, singing the plaintive words with lilting grace in his clear tenor. With each verse the ardent plea for understanding grew stronger.

  Elena concentrated on the words and gazed yearningly into his eyes. Reacting to another actor during a long monologue or song was often difficult, but Michael acted with such intensity, it was easy to look mesmerized.

  When it was her turn to sing again, she repeated the refrain then wove her harmony with Michael’s last verse. Their vocal tones were well-matched and blended intricately as the song changed key and soared to a passionate crescendo.

  When the last note vibrated in the air then died away, the theater was completely silent. Elena’s hands, clasped in Michael’s, were sweating. Her chest rose and fell. Her gaze remained riveted on his for another moment before they simultaneously dropped hands and turned away from each other.

  “Ms. Colvin, Mr. Lucas that was fantastic! You blew me away. Thank you. All right. Can I see… Carrie, who’s up next?”

  It was over. Elena walked from the stage in a daze. You blew me away. That was promising, unless Pender only meant Michael Lucas. Where had that arrogant asshole drawn such emotion from?

  She glanced at Michael walking a few paces behind her, wiping the tears from his eyes with the heels of his hands. His expression was completely composed now.

  Catching Elena’s look, he nodded. “Good job.”

  She responded just as casually. “You, too.” He was more than good. He was phenomenal, but she was sure he didn’t need her adulation to feed his ego.

  Elena turned in her script.

  Lucas did the same then strode straight to the exit without looking at her again.

  The next potential Kathleen and Aaron pairing took the stage. Elena stood in the wings, watching them for a moment before turning to leave. She passed Denny Reeves on her way to the door.

  “Elena, that was amazing! You guys were on fire.”

  “Really? I couldn’t tell. It felt good, but you know how it is. It went so fast I didn’t have time to think.”

  “That’s good. You tend to overthink your acting.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” she said dryly.

  He laughed and hugged her. “But in a good way.” Denny lowered his voice. “That Lucas guy is unbelievably hot.”

  Elena shrugged. “Not my type. He’s good looking, I suppose, but too cocky.” Her lips tingled, reliving the kiss.

  “I didn’t get an ego vibe. He seems laid back to me.”

  “Are you reading for Aaron, too?”

  “Aaron, Richard or one of the smaller roles. Hell, I’ll be Kathleen or Audrey if they want to cast me in drag. I just want to land a part in this show.”

  Elena smiled. “I hope we both make it.” She knew the chances of one, let alone both of them, making the cut were microscopic. Hundreds of young actors were auditioning for Transitions. She had a better chance of winning the lottery than landing the coveted role of Kathleen.

  But as the exit door closed behind her, Pender’s words haunted her. You blew me away. Did he say that to everyone? Was he just being kind? Elena dissected those few words for the rest of the night, trying to remember the director’s exact inflection and wondering if she actually had a shot at making the company.

  Michael walked quickly down the sidewalk, weaving between the other pedestrians. If he was late to work again, he’d lose his job. It paid dick, but was worth it for the food he could snag off the plates when they came into the kitchen. His stomach rumbled at the thought of being filled, and he walked faster.

  The audition had seemed to go well. This callback was the culmination of the earlier auditions, which included working with the choreographer, the music director and the director.

  Michael had been paired with several potential Kathleens throughout the process, reading for Aaron numerous times. That was promising, and the fact that Pender had asked him and that last girl——Elisa, was it?—to segue into the song was unusual. Vocal auditions were usually separate from readings. Pender seemed impressed with both their acting and singing.

  He had to get this role. If not… The porn movie he’d briefly considered sounded less preposterous and more like a viable possibility. He could do it if he had to, take his clothes off and screw some girl. How bad could it be?

  He’d have to find a better job than dishwashing to be able to continue living in the city. Maybe sales, although the idea of being a salesman made him shudder nearly as much as the idea of working in the porn industry. But at age twenty-six he couldn’t keep dicking around in off-off Broadway shows that paid crap. This Transitions audition was his last shot. If it didn’t work out, it was time to seriously consider a real-world job. Michael grimaced at the knowledge his father would be proved right.

  His cell rang and he fished it from his pocket without slowing his pace. “Yeah?”

  “Hey, Michael. How’d it go today?” Sylvia’s voice came and went in static bursts.

  “Pretty good. I—”

  “Great. Look, I hate to be a bitch, but I’ve got somebody lined up for the apartment. She wants to move in right away, so your stuff has to go. I’m sorry.”

  Irritation and frustration mingled in him. Sylvia had been putting him up for a while and he couldn’t expect her generosity to last forever, but it would have been nice to have more of a heads-up.

  “I can’t get my stuff until after work today, so it’ll be late.” He stepped around a melting ice cream cone on the pavement.

  “That’s okay. I’m really sorry. I know I said you could crash at my place as long as you needed, but you know I can’t turn down a renter.”

  “I understand. Thanks for letting me stay as long as you did.”

  “Where will you go? Is there someone you can…?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll ask Jeff. Gotta go. I’ll see you later.” Michael hung up, feeling like he’d been sucker-punched.

  “I’m going to be officially fucking homeless,” he said under his breath. He already had the muttering down. A shopping cart couldn’t be far behind.

  He punched Jeff’s number into the phone. “Hey, man. What’s up?”

  “Writing.” Jeff sounded distracted. He hated being interrupted when he was working. “The new show.”

  “I’ll keep it short then. I know your place is small, but can I crash for a night or two?” Small was putting it politely. Jeff claimed the minimalist space of his one room made it easier to work. With the neighbors’ shouts coming directly through the wall, Michael didn’t see how that was possible, but maybe their arguments inspired scenes in Jeff’s play.

  In the long silence that followed, Michael was able to walk most of the length of a block. Annoyance flickered in him. He wouldn’t be in such deep financial shit if he hadn’t given Jeff money to help produce his flop last summer. Michael’s jaw tightened as he bit back the reminder that his friend owed him.

  “I guess,” Jeff finally replied, “but I don’t know how all your stuff is going to fit in here.”

  “I’ll find somewhere to store my things. I just need a place to sleep.”

  There was another long pause. “Of course I don’t mind, but why don’t you call your parents? I mean, it seems like things are getting pretty desperate and—”

  “You know what? Never mind. I’m sure Sylvia will let me stay one more night and I’ll find something else after that. Forget it.” Michael flipped the phone shut and gripped it tight. Damn self-involved Jeff saw only how things impacted him. But he was like family—you could be mad at him for a time, but ultimately you couldn’t get rid of him.

  Michael resumed walking. With only minutes to make three more blocks to the restaurant, he broke into a jog.

  His phone rang again. Jeff might have a lot of bad qualities, but h
e never intended to piss anybody off and couldn’t stand for someone to be mad at him. Michael smiled as he answered. “Hey, Jeff.”

  “Michael.”

  His smile disappeared as he slowed to a walk again. “Mom. Uh, hi.”

  “I haven’t heard from you in so long. How are you?” As always, she sounded like she really didn’t have time to listen to the answer.

  “Great.”

  “That’s good. We worry about you. Your father’s birthday is coming up and we’re having a party. I want you to come out to the beach house next weekend.”

  “He wants me there?”

  “Of course! It’s his sixtieth birthday, Michael. All our relatives and friends will be there and they’ll expect to see you. You need to put your issues aside.”

  Michael wondered how he was supposed to swing a trip to the Hamptons when he couldn’t even buy his next meal. He knew his requested presence was only for show. Trust Mom to put on a good face for people.

  “If you need money—”

  “No. I’m good. But I’m really busy right now. I don’t know if I can take the time.”

  “Your father is sorry, Michael. Really.”

  “I haven’t heard it from him.” And he doubted he ever would. “If you want to get together with me, that’s fine; come into the city and I’ll meet you someplace. But you can’t fix things between Dad and me.”

  “Letting things fester is so unhealthy for both of you. One of you has to make the first move.” Her impatience showed in her crisp tone.

  I’d rather cut my arm off and feed it to a shark. “Mother, he told me I was a fucking disappointment and to get out of his sight. I’d say the ball’s in his court now.”

  “What will everyone think if you’re not there?” Her voice rose in frustration. “Won’t you please do this for me?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll think about it. I have to go now.”

  He hung up, then ran the last block to the restaurant, entering through the kitchen door that opened onto the alley.

  The head of kitchen staff was waiting for him. “You’re late.”

  “Sorry.” Michael walked past him toward the dishwashing machine. He tied on an apron and began to load the tray.