“Okay,” the man in the front row said. “Page twenty-three. Viola’s scene with Feste, Toby, and Andrew. See if we can’t generate something interesting. Come on, people. Go.”
Casey winced as the woman began speaking. Not exactly Equity quality. But then, the director had said she was filling in, and Shakespeare wasn’t the easiest for anybody, let alone someone in a tiny Midwestern town who’d probably never seen a union production of anything, let alone Twelfth Night. The other two actors in the scene offered their lines, a duet of not enough inflection and way too much, but they were young, maybe not even out of high school, and actually better than the woman. Soon it was Eric’s turn, and Casey held her breath, wishing she’d left before hearing him, as she’d liked him and wanted to be able to think of him without remembering badly done Shakespeare. But it was too late, and she gritted her teeth, waiting.
As he spoke she sat up straighter. Eric was not only leagues above the others, but equal to the actors she’d worked with in Seattle, Cleveland, and Chicago. She looked around, feeling as if she were on one of those dreadful reality shows, someone waiting in the wings to surprise her with a sudden flash of a camera.
But it was no joke.
Listening with growing surprise and wonder at Eric’s quality of acting, she shook her head. Who would’ve thought, here in…what was the town called? Clymer? And really, what on earth was someone with his talent doing in a community production?
Shocked, Casey remained in her seat, not even minding the slaughtering of the language going on around Eric. It was worth it, just hearing him open his mouth. She wondered what the director was thinking. Was he irritated because the others couldn’t possibly act to Eric’s standard? Was he another talented man, like Eric, who was for some incomprehensible reason here in this tiny town doing community theater? Or was he one of those all-too-common folks who think they know a lot more about theater than they actually do?
The scene played out, and the actors looked toward the director. Casey watched Eric, but his expression revealed nothing. Not anxiety, not hope. Not even much interest. Casey checked out the others, only to see the lack of emotion repeated. The only actor really listening as the director ranted was the younger man playing Sir Toby, his eyes rapt on the director’s face.
“Enough for tonight,” the director said with a jerk of his hand. “Go home. Go over your blocking. Learn your lines, for God’s sake. Do something.” He stood, shoved his notebook into a bag, and before Casey had a chance to react he was striding down the aisle toward her seat. There was nowhere to hide, and the director stopped by her chair, lifting his hands toward the ceiling.
“It’s about time,” he said. “I thought you’d never get here.”
Chapter Five
Casey blinked. “Excuse me?”
The director frowned. “I spoke with you ages ago. You’d think you could show up before we all grew old.”
Casey placed her feet flat on the floor and eased herself up out of her seat to stand in front of the director, aware of her personal space and how close he was to violating it. “I’m not here for you.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Oh, really? Then who, exactly, are you here for? Those people?” He jerked a thumb backward toward the stage. “When I get a commitment from an actress, no matter how good she thinks she is, I expect her to be here for me. I don’t tolerate prima donnas.”
Movement behind the man distracted Casey, and Eric peered around the man’s shoulder, his face flooding with red.
“Thomas,” he said. “She’s not the one.”
The director stared at her for a few more seconds before acknowledging Eric. “Well, then, who is she?”
The rest of the cast was there now, too, and they all watched her, expressions much more animated than five minutes before on the stage. Eric grinned. “Her name’s Casey Smith. She helped out at dinner tonight.”
Thomas looked her up and down. “I should’ve known. I bet you couldn’t act your way out of a paper bag, could you, sweetheart?”
A roar filled Casey’s head. She glanced at Eric’s face, now white, and gave a grim smile. She forced herself to look back at the director. “You don’t think so?” She held out her hand.
He sneered at her outstretched palm. “What?”
“A script, please.”
“But—”
“Or a paper bag.”
The director’s eyes narrowed at the snickers from the cast. “Eric?”
“Yes.” Eric’s face was rigid with suppressed laughter.
“Get the lady a script. And read something with her.”
“Sure thing.” He turned to the woman he’d been acting with and smiled. “Care to share your script, Becca?”
Becca’s face tightened, and she glanced at Casey. “Eric…”
“Come on, Becca. What can it hurt?”
Becca took a deep breath, looked at the ceiling, and reached into her purse. “Here.”
“Thanks. Come on, Casey.”
Casey eased around the director and accompanied Eric down the aisle to the stage.
“You know this play?” Eric asked.
“Intimately.”
He glanced at her with surprise. “Any choice, then, on what scene we do?”
Her lips formed a tight line. “How about the conflict scene with Sir Andrew and Viola?”
“I guess that would be—”
“How are you with fighting?”
He gave a soft chuckle. “You mean in real life or on the stage? I’ve got experience with both. Although off-stage it’s been much less violent.” He grinned. “But as you can see, we haven’t graduated to using practice swords yet. He—” He jerked a thumb toward the director “—says he’s waiting till he’s convinced we’re ready for the weapons. I think he just doesn’t know any fight choreographers.”
Casey laughed. “We don’t need swords. If I say two left jabs and a half roundhouse before a contact stomach punch, uppercut, and a sit fall, would that mean anything to you?”
They’d reached the stage, and Eric held back to let her climb the stairs ahead of him. “I’d know what you mean, but without practice I’m afraid I could hurt you.”
She waited for him at the top of the stairs. “Oh, I’m not afraid of you hurting me. You ready?”
He hesitated, then stepped forward. “I guess. Although you’ve got me a little scared now.”
“No worries. Let’s show this blowhard a thing or two.”
Eric shook his head. “All right. Hey, Jack. Aaron. Come on up and do this scene with us. Jack, you be Toby. I’ll read Sir Andrew—”
Aaron, the older of the two kids, jumped onto the stage. “But that’s my part.”
“Just for now, you play Fabian. Please?”
Aaron shrugged, and grinned. “Fine with me.”
“All right. Casey and Aaron, enter from over there. Jack and I will do our lines from here.”
Casey followed Aaron to the wings on stage left. Her blood tingled in her veins, and she opened and closed her hands, bouncing on her feet as she listened. Jack began his lines in Sir Toby’s drunken fashion. “Why, man, he’s a very devil; I have not seen such a firago.”
Casey closed her eyes and breathed in as he finished his line, as Eric joined in with his rich voice. She let her chest expand and contract, and relaxed completely as she waited for the entrance line. When it came close, she opened her eyes to find Aaron waiting for her to cue their movement.
“This shall end without the perdition of souls,” Jack/Toby stated.
Casey and Aaron stepped onto the stage. Casey watched and waited as the others read through the lines leading up to hers. She, as Viola, took in the scene and her opponent, Sir Andrew.
Toby gestured to her. “There’s no remedy, sir; he will fight you for ‘s oath’s sake…”
Casey waited for the end of the line and began hers. “Pray God defend me! A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man.”