A Midsummer Night's Fling (Stage Kiss Series Book 1) (11 page)

"Would Rita start rehearsal without her star player? I think not."
 

Max rolled his eyes. "I have as many lines as you do."

"Actually, I have four
more
lines than you do. Better speeches too.
Hem
. 'If we shadows have offended – '"

"And the chick playing Hermia has more lines than either of us."
 

Lachlan studied the burning end of his cigarette, almost posing, before he shot Max a quick sideways glance. "The word's out
Henry V
is going to be the tent-pole production for the fall season. Judith O'Fallon is directing."

Max sucked in a deep breath. Suddenly, his meeting with Judith was a lot more important.
 

Hamlet was, of course, supposed to be the Great Part for every young male actor. But Max, for his money, had always harbored a secret preference for Henry V.
Henry V
as a play also had action, romance, and those great bombastic speeches specifically written to stir a man's blood. The Harfleur speech. St Crispin's Day.
 

Unbidden, the words unspooled from the back of Max's brain, and he could taste the lines on his tongue,
rich and satisfying as a gourmet feast . . .
'I am not covetous for gold. Such outward things dwell not in my desires. But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive
. . . '

Max swallowed with difficulty. Somehow all the spit in his mouth seemed to have dried up.
Damn, I want that part
. "
Henry V
?" Max said. "That's interesting."
 

"Yes, I think I'll quite like playing Henry." Lingering over his cigarette, Lachlan puffed out a smoke ring then tossed the butt onto the path and stubbed it out with his sneaker. With a jaunty salute, he wandered down the hill to rehearsal.
 

Jerk
. After Lachlan left, Max's blood raced inside him as if he'd been punched. Appropriate enough reaction; Lachlan had just thrown down the gauntlet at his feet. The arrogant Brit was giving notice he thought King Henry belonged to him, and was probably planning to do everything he could to get the part.
 

Not gonna happen
.
 

Max jogged away with new purpose. He
was
going to play King Henry. And to do it, he was going to charm the pants off Judith, jump through whatever hoops she set in his way. He
was
going to get that part.
 

No matter what it took.
 

Chapter Eight

Fortunately for Nicola's emotional equilibrium, the morning of her first rehearsal was devoted to scene work with Gil, running Bottom and Titania stuff. For whatever reason, Rita was saving the Oberon and Titania scenes for after lunch. Max was around, running to get props, helping Rita troubleshoot on some of the blocking. Nicola was surprised to see him acting almost as an assistant director for Rita. He'd never been that responsible before. Still, the busier he was the better. Less chance for anything to happen.
 

Unfortunately for Nicola, about three hours into rehearsal Judith O'Fallon slid through the doors of the theater and plunked herself into the back row of seats. She sat there and watched rehearsal, like a silver-haired Opera Ghost, until Nicola's shoulders started to itch from the power of Judith's frowning stare alone.
 

Great
. Nicola thought. Fumbling through her first rehearsal, being four weeks behind everyone else, wasn't bad enough? Nicola got to have an audience for her screw-ups? A hostile audience.

Nicola and Gil were re-running their first scene together, Nicola trying to remember her blocking without the script notes when Judith's throaty alto erupted from the back row, filling the theater. "
Rita!
"

Nicola fought to keep her face impassive. She'd felt good running that scene, like she was making smart choices, finding her rhythm. Then Judith caroled out from the back row and stopped everything. Like train cars piling up in a wreck, Nicola's concentration, her confidence, staggered and shattered.
 

Rita stomped halfway down the stage steps, her jaw rigid as she faced the new artistic director. "Yes, Judith?"

"I'm so sorry to interrupt rehearsal." Judith hopped to her feet and sauntered down the aisle. "Can I borrow your Titania for some private coaching? I want to work on the verse with her. Make sure she hits the ground running."

Judith didn't glance Nicola's way once during this whole speech. As if Nicola weren't standing there while one of the artistic directors insulted her in front of the whole cast.
And I get to keep standing here and take it because Judith is the boss
. Anger buzzed through Nicola's veins, gathering like fire behind her breastbone, but she forced her lips to curl into something resembling a smile, forced her eyes to kindle as if pleased.

When Judith faced Nicola, the other woman had a smile as sweet as snake venom on her own lips.
 

Rita pinched her nose, the wrinkles on her tanned face deepening. She cast a glance of apology at Nicola then waved her hands, bracelets chinking together. "Fine. Fine. Not too long. I want to get through Act Two today with Nicola."

Judith made no reply other than to take Nicola by the arm and drag her backstage to one of the underground rehearsal rooms. The room was small, with rolling mirrors parked in one corner and a wooden floor that was slippery under Nicola's low friction flats. Judith strode to a position in one corner, arms folded, and watched her.
 

Nicola fluttered her eyelashes and waited. Just waited.
I can play chicken too, lady
. And she could take whatever torture Judith decided to dish out.
 

"How much experience with Shakespeare do you have, dear?"

Nicola blew her breath out through her lips. "I've done several Shakespeare plays before.
R&J
twice
. Midsummer
. I did
Antigone
with Rita."

"Greek theater. Hmm." Judith's nose curled. "So no formal classical training?"

Nicola twitched her shoulders, nettled. "Actually I have an MFA."

"Yes. Hmm. Well." Judith clapped her hands together and rested the pointed fingers against her lips. "The verse, dear. The verse. It's
Shakespeare
. You can't ignore the verse the way you have been."

Nicola bit her cheek to keep from snapping back. She'd dealt with prickly directors before. What was it about Judith that made her so twitchy? The Max thing?

Of course not
. Nicola forced herself to pay attention.

Judith began pacing circles around her. "I've played Titania seven times before. In England. New York. Even once on this stage. I know this part backwards and forwards." Judith stopped pacing and faced Nicola. "You haven't nailed the rhythm of the language. You're doing it wrong. Here, do a speech for me. Do 'forgeries of jealousy'."

So you can tell me I'm doing it wrong?
Nicola unclenched her hands and breathed. Assuming her most queenly manner, she began, "'These are the forgeries of jealousy: And never, since the middle summer's spring, met we – '"

"There! See. Did you even scan the line first?"

"Yes, I di – "
 

"And did you make notes? Commit the rhythm to memory?" Judith's voice was scathing, her pale eyes snapping with anger. Nicola watched warily as Judith's temper gathered momentum, like a snowball rolling downhill until it's become an avalanche. "There's technique here, my dear. Craft."

"I did scan the lines for the verse's rhythm. I – "
 

"You young actresses, all the same. You think you can walk in and start spouting Shakespeare out like its Neil Simon. Well, it's
not
." Judith's manner was like a cat lashing out at you and scraping away lines of your skin, abrupt and without reason.
 

This isn't even about me
, Nicola realized.

Judith clucked her tongue, shaking the white-blonde hair away from her face, her feet pounding the floor as she paced. "Before you ever say a line you need to figure out the metrical
character
of each line of verse. You need to know it, to internalize the meter
for every line
. Start again."

Nicola wet her lips. "'These are the forgeries of jealousy: And never – '"

"
No!
" Judith yelled right in Nicola's face. Her eyes wide, nostrils flared, Judith sucked in a huge breath then launched into Titania herself, her impressive voice filling the room, forceful, beautiful, but still boiling below with that odd rage. "'These are the
forgeries
of
jealousy
:And
never
, since the middle summer's spring, met we on
hill
, in
dale
,
forest
or
mead
.'" As she finished, Judith stared at Nicola, her gaze like a dissection knife. "Start again."

Shaking with frustration and anger, Nicola started the speech over.
 

***

Thankfully, lunch break was mandated by the union, otherwise Judith would have kept Nicola locked in that room, running the same monologue over and over without stopping. The stage manager rescued Nicola right before lunch, and Judith disappeared, sour-faced and angry, probably mad she hadn't reduced Nicola to tears.

As rehearsal broke for the meal, a few people wandered to a local diner for their grub, but at least half of the cast poured into the green room backstage to eat.
 

The first blast of air conditioning hit Nicola's face and she let out a small coo of happiness. She loved the outdoor theater space, but she could already tell the heat was going to be murder when the SoCal summer kicked into gear.
 

It was also really, really nice not to have Judith yelling at her anymore.

"You're going to want to invest in bug spray when we start the nighttime performances."

Nicola jumped at Max's voice right behind her. Once rehearsal started, she hadn't seen him up close, and she'd sort of allowed herself to pretend he didn't exist. Now he was there, smelling like sunshine and a light sweat, the top and sides of his longish blonde hair pulled pack with a rubber band, that devastating grin lighting his face.

She felt sweaty and gross, basically melted, and he looked like a Sun God.
Typical
.
 

Still, impossible to be annoyed when he flashed her that devastating grin, his blue eyes glinting.

"Bug spray?" she said. "Seriously?"
 

"The delights of an outdoor theater."

Nicola settled at a small table with playing cards scattered in the middle and unpacked her chicken salad. Max unwrapped a big sandwich with roast beef flowing out the sides and instinctively pulled out the chair next to hers.
 

Old habits
. Watching him, her mouth quirked as she remembered when he'd visit her at college. He'd hang out in the green room waiting for her to be done with rehearsal. Then they'd drive off in his convertible, the night cool, the stars above them, and she'd thought it would last forever.

She sighed at the memories and speared up a forkful of romaine and chicken. "Do you always help out that much at rehearsal?"

He wobbled his hand in a
so-so
gesture. "Depends on the director. Rita's sort of taken me under her wing. Mentoring. When Isabelle directs she lets me hang around too. 'Absorbing her genius'." He laughed. "And I do like being helpful."

"I remember that." Max had always been the first volunteer to carry groceries, to drive a buddy to auditions, to stay late during tech rehearsal. To help Nicola's mother pack half the house when her husband left them. Nicola and Max had even been broken up that month. When they'd been on their quarterly make-up then break-up schedule during college. But, ex-boyfriend or not, he'd still come to help her mother.
 

Nicola took a long slug from her water bottle. "All right, Maxim, besides bug spray, what else can you tell me about playing an outdoor theater?"

Lachlan startled her as he flung his lunch down then folded his lanky height into the extra chair beside Nicola. Tierney claimed the last seat. The costume designer tossed a pack of cigarettes onto the table next to Lachlan's more reasonable lunch of a sandwich, fruit salad, and potato chips.
 

"Hello, Lachlan. Tierney." Nicola nodded to them, and tried not to be disappointed at having her alone time with Max disturbed. Alone time was bad. She should be happy of the extra company. She forked up another mouthful of salad and sighed while she chewed.

"Hey, where were you two for the last few hours?" Max asked the newcomers. "I turned around after warm-ups and Lach was gone."

"Did you miss your bitch boy Puck?" Tierney snagged Lachlan's Tupperware full of sliced fruit and began eating it with her fingers.
 

"Our dear pink-haired girl wanted me for a fitting." Lachlan wrinkled his nose and tore open his potato chip bag. "Puck's faux-leather pants are nearly complete. Tra-la-la." He twirled his finger in the air in a bored circle. "And then
dear
Tierney followed me home so she could eat my lunch, apparently." His gaze sharpened as he glanced between Max and Nicola. "But forgive me. Did we interrupt your tête-à-tête?"