Page 99 of You Spin Me

Which earns me a bellow of a laugh from Dave.

Mira suggests I play with the vowels and consonants in Caliban’s speech. Shakespeare’s words often carry meaning through sounds, so this makes sense. In practice, when I open up the vowels in the section “thou strokedst me and madest much of me,” my voice howls with deep mourning. Then when I really hit the consonants in “Cursed be I that did so! All the charms of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!” I’m spitting evil spells.

By the end, I feel like I’m flying.

“I think we’ve seen enough,” Dave finally says. “Nice work, Jess. You’ve grown since last summer.”

Shoving aside the temptation to make a joke about my age, I curtsy. “Thanks. I’ve been busy.”

He tips his head to the side. “Is that you I’ve been hearing on the radio?”

“It is. Those guys are insane. Most of the time, I’m trying not to laugh.”

“I think you’re giving them a run for their money,” Mira says. “I had no idea you were so funny.” She taps her pen on the pad in front of her. “And good work with Caliban. You really nail the ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ concept.”

“Well, I could stand here and soak up your praise all day?—”

“But we do have other actors to see,” the stage manager cuts in.

“And I have to get back up to Chichester. So I’ll get out of your hair.”

Stoked by the praise, I simply enjoy time with my old friends as I wait for Jack and Earl to finish up. I have to peeagain, but I guess that means I’m doing a good job of staying hydrated.

When I return to the waiting area, Bella catches me by the arm and leans in close. “Listen, I didn’t want to say anything before you went in, but… are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

My hands press my belly. “Do I look pregnant?

“No, not at all. But nausea on top of feeling like you need to urinate constantly… I’m sure you’re careful and all, but those are kind of telltale symptoms.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think—”

“Check it out, okay? Believe me, I know from experience that birth control doesn’t always work.”

And just like that, my post-audition high comes crashing to the ground.

CAL

Nothing like waiting till the last minute. My mom would say I take it to an art form. I’m so late for the final performance ofBeyond Therapythat the theater lot is full. The closest spot I can find is blocks away. Even though I jog back, they’re closing the house by the time I make it inside. A grumpy woman ushers me to a spot at the back of the dim theater. While some guy gives a speech in front of the curtain, I melt into the shadows.

The seat is uncomfortable and the auditorium overheated, but the moment Jess steps onstage, all that falls away. I can’t take my eyes off her. The force of her natural beauty is blunted by the poorly fitting costume, frizzy hairdo and even her posture. The character she plays is awkward, rude, and kind of mean, but every little movement is fascinating. Every shift tells a part of this woman’s story. The stuff she’s been recording at the station has been entertaining, but I had no idea that Jessica is a truly gifted actress.

When it’s all over, I’m wrung out, but in a good way. I feel like I went through some crazy therapy with these people. On top of that, I laughed harder than I have in a long time.

Out in the lobby, the bar is open and quite a few people are hanging around drinking and chatting, so I find a spot in a corner to wait for Jess. When the actors finally emerge, each of them looks a bit different than they did on stage, but none more so than Jess. She’s redone her hair and makeup, and she’s in a curve-hugging dress. I’m halfway across the room before I know it.

JESS

The need to remind the world—especially the artistic director of the theater, who has the power to bring me in for future roles—that I don’t really look like Prudence powers me through fixing my hair and makeup after the show. But only seeing Cal waiting for me gives me the energy to sprint across the room and into his arms.

After I give him a long, lingering kiss, I whisper, “Thank you for coming. It means a lot.”

When we separate, he looks around at the crowd—like he’s a little surprised at the PDA—before he grins and twirls me around.

“Are you checking out my butt?”

“You betcha,” he says with a grin. “I need to soak in all of you. You were too good as Prudence up there. I almost forgot what you really look like.”

Blushing, grinning like a fool, I go up on tiptoe, give him a peck on the left cheek, and whisper, “The sooner you meet my friends, the sooner you get to meet my bed.”

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