Page 48 of Cool for the Summer

I get recognized from time to time in the city, but not very often. I definitely didn’t expect it here. “Yes.”

“I saw you inPlum Island. I loved your performance.”

“Thank you.” It’s always nice to hear someone enjoyed your work.

“It was really moving,” she says, pushing a hank of long honey-colored hair behind her multi-pierced ear. “In fact, I saw it twice. I teach drama classes at the Rosedale Art Center and I organized a field trip for some of my students to go see it.”

I dredge up Pete’s mention of the local theater program. “Are you putting on the Shakespeare play this summer?”

She beams. “I am. You don’t live in Rosedale, do you? We get a lot of weekenders, but I feel like I would have heard you were in town. I’m Dulcie Martin.”

“I’m Van,” I say, a bit redundantly, “and I’m just here for the summer. Staying with friends.” It’s an easier explanation than the real situation.

“Oh wow, that’s awesome. I don’t suppose I could persuade you to come give a little talk to the students in my summer session?”

The suggestion takes me aback. “What would I talk about?”

“Oh, your experiences in New York theater, maybe give them some insight into what life as an actor is like. Some of them have aspirations, and hearing from someone who’s been there would be so valuable. I totally understand if it’s not something you’re interested in, though. You’re probably really busy.”

She’s giving me a gracious out, but I already know I’ll say yes. If nothing else, it would make Pete happy for me to do something for the place where he teaches drawing classes off and on.

And Beck would probably encourage me to do it, too.

“Sure, why not?” I say. “When does your class meet?”

We exchange numbers and plan for me to show up at the Art Center a week from Wednesday.

“So, I know the worst possible question I can ask is what you’re doing next,” Dulcie says with a wrinkled nose, “but I need to know what shows to start saving up for. Tickets can get pricey.”

I laugh lightly. “No shows yet. I’m—” I hesitate, then plunge forward “—I’m writing a play. We’ll see what happens with it.”

“Hell yeah, that’s so cool,” she says, rocking back on the heels of her Birkenstocks. “I’m so glad I ran into you. Wait. The friend you’re staying with—that wouldn’t be Pete Blekitny, would it?”

Internally, I shake my head at the inevitability of small-town connections. “That’s right. He’s on his honeymoon, so I’m taking care of the dog.”

“Now I remember him mentioning he knew you. He is the absolute best,” she says.

“He absolutely is.”

“Who’s absolutely the best?” Beck asks, walking up to Dulcie and me and giving her a curious smile.

“Pete,” I say.

“Oh, absolutely,” Beck agrees without missing a beat.

I make introductions. “Beck, this is Dulcie. She teaches drama at the Art Center.”

“I’m imposing on Van’s generosity to get him to come talk to my class,” she says.

“I support that one hundred percent,” Beck says.

I glance at him and smirk. “I thought you would.”

Dulcie’s gaze flicks between Beck and me and she gives us a speculative look but doesn’t say anything. “Well, I’ll let you two enjoy the market. See you soon, Van. And thanks again, really.” She sways back to the guitarist, who’s playing “Brown Eyed Girl.”

“She seems nice. And look at you—doing something for the community.”

“You are way too excited about this,” I grumble, but only performatively. She does seem nice, and how bad could it be to dredge up some of my horror stories from the Broadway trenches? “What about you? I trust Stacy is your new best friend.”

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