Page 50 of You Spin Me

“You too. I think it went well,” is my automatic answer. Doing my best to breathe deeply so I can ease my brain into reading the words printed on the tiny card, I remember that I don’t have to pretend. “Could you read it to me, Lanie? My brain, you know.”

“Sure. Sorry, I forget about your”—she draws a circle in the air in front of my eyes—“reading thing. Um, it says, ‘Jess, I’m sorry I can’t be there for you. Someday I hope you’ll understand. Break a leg.’” She looks up. “Now I want to know what it is you need to understand.”

“You and me both.” Pulling the bottle out of the ice, I look around the room for glasses. “Not letting it go to waste, though. Should I open it here or wait for the party?”

Laney whips off her costume and swings it stripper-style. “I say we get the party started here and now.” Wishing I were as unselfconscious as she, I turn away to pop the cork.

Mindful of how drunk I got last weekend, I only have half a glass before getting in the car to drive the short distance to the actor housing. After dropping my bag in my room, I join the party in the kitchen.

Taking in the sea of now-familiar faces, I give myself a mental pat on the back. Not only did I venture out beyond the safe boundaries of Shakespeare Boston, I took risks with this character that seem to have paid off. I’ve made new friends as well as work connections.

And, I recite dutifully to myself, I ended an unhealthy obsession with a guy who’s probably married or unavailable in some other fucked-up way. Was it thoughtful of him to send the Champagne or was it manipulative?

Still, I’m awfully tempted to call and thank him, especially when I walk into the living room where all of my fellow actors are snuggled up with significant others. Before I take another sip of alcohol—determined to avoid acting on the unhealthy impulse—I squat next to Jack to whisper, “Don’t let me near the phone tonight, okay? No drunk-dialing DJs for this girl.”

Jack considers me carefully before agreeing. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” I say, clinking glasses with him. “You’re the best bad boyfriend.”

“And you’re the best bad girlfriend,” he replies. “Onstage, at least.”

“Where it counts,” I say, before taking a healthy swallow.

Chapter12

BRRRING. WAKE UP!It’s Monday, Monday, Monday FUN day with your WBAR morning jock, Morning Guy Guy.

JESS

Opening weekend goes off without a hitch. Two shows on both Saturday and Sunday keep me busy enough that I’m able to push thoughts of Cal to the back of my mind, but the long drive back Sunday night has me thinking about him. Good thing he’s not spinning songs tonight, or I’d have a hard time keeping myself from calling in the moment I get home. Despite an extra-long workout at my barre, I still spend a restless night going over and over our talks and wishing things were different. Monday morning, I get my sleep-deprived body to a much-needed ballet class first thing. After class, as I sit down to try and wrestle the pile of bills on my desk into some sort of submission, my phone rings.

“Good morning, I’m looking for Jessica Abraham?” The voice is businesslike and unfamiliar.

“This is she.”

“This is Marnie Farrell from Boston Casting. Richard Jones sent me a tape and said you were interested in voice-over work?”

Well, this is unexpected. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

Wishing that I’d done a bit more homework, I hope I can sound like I know what I’m talking about. All I know is that Marnie gets the best on-camera jobs in town. Will has auditioned for her, but I’ve never been able to get in there. There has to be a way I can leverage this. “I’ve been doing union stage work since college and on-camera work for the past couple of years, but Jones felt that I had potential in the voice-over arena.” At least I hope that’s what he told Marnie.

“Mm. I do like what you did with that character in the recording he sent over. I’m casting a commercial that’s kind of similar. Could you come in tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

She gives me an appointment, tells me to come in early to get the copy, and gives me their address. When I hang up, I squeal and do a series ofchaînésaround my living room. If I were to add voice-overs to the on-camera work I’ve begun to pick up, I’d have even more chances to earn decent money as an actress. Theater may be my first love, but even with the higher rates at Chichester Rep, it literally doesn’t pay the rent.

It’s a good thing that I never got Cal’s home number because I’d be tempted to call him and thank him for playing my voice on air by mistake. Instead, I do what I should’ve done after I ran into Jones last week—I get on the phone to do some research.

CAL

Even though I played songs with Jessica in the title every night I worked the past week, she never called in.

I’m still trying to figure out what exactly went wrong, questioning my own grasp on reality in the process. It feels like Jess broke up with me, but how is that possible when our “relationship” only existed along the thousands of feet of cable and phone lines that connected us? Now it’s like she never existed except in the space between my ears.

I’ve tried to go over our last phone call so many times—wishing I’d recorded that one—because when I try to recall what she said, all I get is a roar in my ears.

Ithinkit was about trust. No doubt men have deceived her in the past, strung her along with lies, even. We can be assholes. And I did violate her trust by sharing her secrets without her permission.

---