Page 44 of Character Flaws
Chapter Seventeen
Joey
Improvising can be dangerous
I am flat on my feet exhausted.
Not only have I been working part-time at my friend Felicia’s flower shop over the last few weeks – because hey, wedding season – I’ve also been attending rehearsals every day and evening since we received our parts.
As Theo had promised, I won the female lead in the play and have had to transform into Silvia. And let me tell you, it’s hard to do. I’m nothing like the character Theo has written. At least, I don’t think I am.
Silvia portrays a woman who is self-assured. Prickly to a point of being brash and rude. I was born and raised in Indiana, by a mother who taught me to never truly show my feelings, but instead to suck it up and live with whatever happens.
I’ve certainly grown a pair over the last year and have pushed myself out of my shell so that I don’t get walked over, but I’m still that passive-aggressive mid-Western girl.
There’s a particular scene that Theo and I have been working on that I just can’t seem to get right. I’m supposed to act indignant and incensed by Chester’s behavior. I’m supposed to yell at him, right before the big make-out and bed scene.
I’ve never yelled at anyone my entire life.
Granted, the stage will go dark before anything happens, but I think I’m self-sabotaging the lines before it, because I’m so nervous that people are watching me.
Not a good problem for a stage actor to have, is it?
This is the third time we’ve tried practicing in front of the class and I just keep tripping over the words, forgetting the lines and messing the whole scene up.
I think Theo’s getting a tad frustrated with me, as noted by his constant pencil tapping on the table converted into their director desk.
“Okay everyone, let’s take a short break and start back at Scene four when we return. Fifteen minutes, folks. And then we’re back at it.”
I’m just about to walk off with the other cast members when Theo halts my progress.
“Joey? Can I talk to you for a minute?”
My friend Maria gives me the side-eyes and giggles, before patting me on the shoulder reassuringly.
“His bark is worse than his bite. You’ll be fine,” she whispers as she walks toward the exit, leaving me standing in the middle of the stage.
I turn toward him and watch as he hops up on stage, dusting off the back of his jeans and crosses his hands over his chest.
He assesses me for a moment, heaving a sigh as his broad chest fills and expands with air before he releases it. He’s wearing one of his Acting OUT branded t-shirts and it fits him snug and perfectly. He’s also wearing his glasses today which are so geeky-hot my ovaries explode every time he adjusts them on his nose.
“What’s the problem with this scene, Joey?”
Because I’m tired, I plop down on the black painted stage, the cue markers scattered around me. We’ve had to learn not only our lines, but where to stand, when and how to move, how loudly we have to project our voices. It’s a lot to remember.
I offer a soft reply. “I don’t know. It’s just not coming to me.”
Theo drops it in front of me, sitting cross-legged so our knees touch. I have so much repressed sexual energy that even this makes my panties wet.
“Remember when we talked about pulling from your own life experiences in order to draw from that raw emotion?”
I nod my head. “Yeah.”
His places his palms on my bare thighs, in what I think is an encouraging gesture, but my skin breaks out in goosebumps from his touch. I want to grab his wrists and draw them up my legs, lay back on the stage and let him have his way with me.
And then I shake my head clear of those devious thoughts, because a) we’re in public and b) he’s gay!
My prayers have gone unanswered every night when I ask the man upstairs to do something about that.
