'But in the play, I'm Edward Weston, the hero's younger brother.' He was a bit on the beefy side, but much more attractive than the director. He had a mop of unruly curly brown hair, a charming crooked smile, and good teeth. Jane always noticed people's teeth. Shelley always remembered the color of their eyes. Jane could hardly remember the color of her own eyes.
Steve Imry spoke up. 'Jake, I'm glad you introduced yourself by your script name. That's what we're going to do from now on. I've instituted this policy before, and it works well. It makes for a more cohesive cast.'
Jake smiled before he turned to go to the table, and he winked at Jane and Shelley. It was clearly a joke aimed at the pompous director.
The third person had said nothing. She hadn't even taken her eyes from her script.
Jake sat down across the table from her and said to Jane and Shelley, 'The sphinx sitting at the far end of the table is, according to our esteemed director, Angeline Smith. The showgirl tramp my big brother is bringing home to meet the parents.'
The young woman finally looked up and spoke. 'He means my character is a showgirl tramp. My real name is Joani. With an i at the end.'
She was voluptuous and wore a red, clingy top that looked like the top half of a bathing suit specifically designed to show off her impressive cleavage. Her hair was so long and so glossy that Jane supposed it was a wig. Her makeup was a tad on the garish side.
Joani-with-an-i went back to reading her script and Shelley and Jane exchanged a glance. Each knew what the other was thinking.
Everyone was immediately distracted by the entrance of an elderly couple. They stood posed as if they owned the theater' and all those who were present. They were obviously waiting for the proper accolades.
'I'm so looking forward to working with you,Gloria and John,' the director gushed. 'Please make yourselves comfortable. Sit anywhere you'd like. Would either of you like a glass of white wine? I have a bottle chilled.'
'Good man,' John Bunting croaked. He sat down next to Joani and looked down her cleavage with a leer.
Jane had seen this couple, Gloria and John Bunting, that morning on a local television news show. They both seemed to think they were true stars. The interviewer had obviously never heard of them, and had asked them chirpily what movies they'd been in.
'Movies?' Gloria had drawled in a surprisingly deep voice for such a small woman, 'Oh dear, too many to remember. But we started in live theater and have always felt more comfortable with a real audience.'
The interviewer asked, to his later regret, what famous plays they'd been in. John rattled off a long, slightly slurred list of productions the interviewer (and Jane) had never heard of.
John Bunting leaned close to Joani and said, 'You sure are a looker.'
Joani got a whiff of his breath and moved her chair away from him, then turned her back to continue reading her script.
'John,' Gloria said, 'mind your manners.' She tossed one of her many wayward scarves around her throat to make her point. She went around the
table and made John sit in another chair, while she sat next to Joani. She slapped her husband's copy of the script in front of him.
Professor Imry said, 'I know it's unusual to send scripts out before the first reading session, but we're short on rehearsal time and I wanted the Buntings, in particular, to be prepared. I hope you've all read them and have them pretty well memorized already.'
Jane studied Gloria Bunting. She looked better in real life than on television. She was about five foot four, slim but not skinny. She, like most aging actresses, had probably undergone a good deal of plastic surgery. If so, it didn't show. She had a small, thin nose, high cheekbones, and only a hint of wrinkles. Really good shoulders, which didn't seem to be padding. She must have been a very pretty woman when she was younger and was still attractive.
It wasn't easy to guess her age. She could be anywhere from sixty-five to seventy-five. Her luxuriant white, slightly curly hair looked as if it was her own, not a wig. Her eyes were a clear, perceptive light blue. She moved erectly and easily. No hint of arthritis. Only her hands gave away that she was old. A few age spots. A couple of slightly enlarged knuckle. Jane hoped she'd age as well as Gloria Bunting had.
An extraordinarily good-looking and well-dressed young man had come into the roomwhile Imry finished speaking. He spotted the elderly pair and came over to introduce himself. 'I'm Denny Roth,' he said, patting them on the shoulders patronizingly. 'You've probably heard of me. I've been in several independent films. One of them won several awards at Sundance.'
Jake was still sitting near Jane and Shelley and made a small snorting noise and winked at them again. 'As an extra, wasn't it, Denny?'
Denny ignored this and took a seat next to the director. Jake introduced Jane and Shelley. 'Mrs. Jeffry and Mrs. Nowack are going to make sure that we get fed and watered. Be extra nice to them if you know what's good for you.'
Steven Imry clearly didn't like someone else making the rules and introductions. He stood in front of the head chair and said, 'Starting now, we're going to use your characters' names at all times, as I said before. I've—'
Gloria cut him off. 'I'm Ms. Gloria Bunting and don't you forget it, young man.'
'Gloria is right,' her husband agreed. 'That's simply not how it works in a
It seemed as if Imry hadn't recognized that he had offended the actress and her husband. Or maybe he didn't care. 'It's a technique I've used before with great success. It gets everyone into the spirit of the play sooner. You'll address me as
Professor Imry. Tonight is simply a first reading. No gestures, no movements. We'll get to those tomorrow. I just want to hear you emote.'
There were a few muttered groans, but Jane couldn't tell who they came from. The older actors simply shook their heads. Shelley muttered almost silently, 'Emote?'
Jane had also cringed at the use of 'emote.' She smiled at Shelley. The longer they'd been friends, the more they thought alike — most of the time. But not always. For instance, they disagreed violently about how books you owned should be treated.
She put this thought aside as the reading started. Jane was surprised at the different ways each actor read. John Bunting, now designated by the director as Mr. Walter Weston, slurred his words, but seemed to have already memorized the script. That surprised her. But on reflection, it shouldn't have. It was probably how he had earned his living from his youth. He looked a great deal older than his wife. He obviously dyed his thinning hair. He'd run to fat and had the bloodshot eyes and the big red nose of a heavy drinker.
His wife, Gloria, who played Mrs. Edina Weston in the script, was letter perfect and didn't even open the script to follow it. She took on a sort of Katharine Hepburn accent when she was speaking.
Joani-with-an-i wasn't nearly as well prepared and had to follow each of her lines with her long-nailed, red- painted forefinger.
Professor Imry was appalled. 'You should have had this from memory by now, Angeline. I expect you to have it down by tomorrow's first rehearsal,' he warned. 'At this stage, you could be replaced.'
She nodded sullenly, but her attitude was a bit fearful as well.
Denny Roth, who had the role of Todd Weston, the handsome, wayward son who had brought Angeline home to his family as his betrothed, had the script memorized by now as well, but read as if he were already bored with it, apparently changing some of Professor Imry's wording.
Imry chastised him. 'Read it as if you mean it, and don't improvise.'
'It's not my voice the way you've written it. I sound too old. My character's vocabulary and sentence patterns should be his own, not yours.'
Jane had just noticed that there were several extra scripts on the table next to her chair at the back of the
