Waiting in the Wings (3 page)

Lanie and I stared at each other for only a few seconds before promptly screaming and falling into each other’s arms. Dennis rolled his eyes and waited until our jumping up and down came to a reasonable springing before rattling off a series of dates and times. Not that I got any of it. I was too busy feeling what it was like for step one of my dream to come true.

C
hapter
t
WO

T

he flight to Detroit was delayed by two hours, and far be it

from me to waste precious time. I took out my script and the notes that had been faxed over and continued the memorization work I’d been doing. I was well aware of the fact that hard work was my secret weapon, not natural-born talent. Lanie was sitting next to me reading a trashy romance novel she’d picked up in the gift shop. The cover bore a picture of an overly muscular man with his shirt half off. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What are you laughing at?” Lanie followed my gaze to the cover of her book. “Are you laughing at Brandon Iron? Because I’ll have you know he’s ridiculously hot. I don’t care what you think; he’s going to live under my pillow on tour.”

“Brandon Iron? Is that a joke or the poor guy’s name?” I couldn’t contain my full-on laughter any longer. “Please tell me you made that up.”

“Of course that’s his name. If you shut up right now, I might let you borrow it when I’m done. But you’re on warning. Brandon prefers his women to take him seriously.”

“You know what? I think I’m gonna pass on this one.” I patted her knee in mock sympathy. “I’d hate to get in the way of what you two have going.”

She glared at me and hugged the book to her chest. “As if you could, hussie.” A moment passed and I could sense her tone come

back down to serious. “So what is your story, Jenna? Leaving some heartbroken guy back at home?”

“Actually, no, which is probably for the best anyway. The whole long-distance thing isn’t for me.” Not that I’d ever tried it, but I’d sure seen a lot of others crash and burn.

“But if there were a guy, what would he be like? Come on, dish. We have time to kill.” Ah, the land of girl talk was fast approaching. I thought about the best way to handle this before deciding to just be honest.

“Well, there
wouldn’t
be a guy. That’s just it.” I looked at her purposefully.

“Oh…” she said, slightly confused before the realization of what I was saying hit her. “Oh! Okay. Wow. Usually I’m pretty good about picking up on these kinds of things, but you got right by me.”

“Most people don’t pick up on it. No big deal.”

“I guess I’ll have to broaden my perspective. Soooo, I take it there’s no special gal at home either then?”

“Nope. Completely on my own. But it’s not a bad thing. Getting this job is the biggest thing that has ever happened to me, and the show is all I should focus on at this point in my life.”

“What a very reasonable, level-headed, and boring answer you just gave,” she said sweetly. “We’ll have to see about that.”

❖

When we landed in Detroit, a production assistant named Stewart was waiting to drive us to our hotel to drop off our belongings and then on to the Fisher Theater where
Clean Slate
was playing. Stewart looked like he couldn’t have been more than sixteen, but upon a little flirtatious grilling from Lanie, we learned he was twenty and completing an internship with the show.

“So tell us about everyone,” Lanie said. “I’ve worked in several companies where the group’s pretty tight, and several where, well, let’s just say you didn’t want to hang around much once the show ended each night. What are we looking at here?”

“No, they’re pretty okay, really. Of course you always have your prima donnas who you’ll spot right off the bat, but everyone kind of balances each other out. They’re a supportive cast, but I’m not going to lie and say they aren’t competitive. But what actor types aren’t, right?” He turned and winked at us before signaling for his left turn. He was cute. Kind of like a miniature man.

“What about our leading lady? One of those prima donnas you mentioned?” Lanie just couldn’t let up. But in actuality, I was curious about Adrienne Kenyon myself. It looked like she was in most of the scenes I had in the show. My character would act as her best friend throughout the first half of the musical, and then steal her boyfriend and stab her in the back in the second half, one of the many horrible things that happened to her character.

“Um, no I wouldn’t say that about Adrienne.” Stewart thought for a moment. “But you can tell the show is important to her. And she certainly won’t take any crap from anyone when it comes to doing our best show. I think she’s amazing, personally.” He smiled broadly in the rearview mirror.

Wow. That was a pretty great review from Stewart the intern. Sounded like he had himself a crush on the show’s resident star. I was definitely looking forward to meeting her though. Not that I wasn’t already familiar with her work. She’d been famous since she was fourteen and on the most popular teen TV series,
Highland High
. It was a complete guilty pleasure, but I was hooked on it throughout my youth. However, I was also able to realize something most of America perhaps did not. Adrienne Kenyon was immensely more talented than
Highland High
allowed for. I had seen her in her first Broadway show six years ago on a family vacation to New York, and was blown away by her vocal range and power. Some might say she was cast in
Clean Slate
solely because her name would sell tickets, but I had a feeling those people were wrong. Unfortunately, her true talent was often overshadowed by tabloid gossip, most of which surrounded reported feuds with her parents over control of the money she’d made as a teenager. Not that I necessarily believed that stuff.

Stewart informed us that the company managers had arranged for us to see the show from the audience that night before going into

rehearsals first thing the next morning. He provided us with tickets and dropped us off at the front of the house. That sounded great to me. It would be nice to sit back and take in the story live. I also wanted to take notes regarding the audience’s perspective on many of the scenes I had already started interpreting on my own from the script.

The house lights of the theater began to dim only moments after Lanie and I took our seats in the audience. Slow, melodic music began to play from the orchestra pit, and a single blue light illuminated Adrienne Kenyon alone onstage. The character, Evan, sang quietly, asking herself how and when her life had taken a turn. As the song continued, her voice picked up power and her sorrow crescendoed as she took a knife to her throat, intent on taking her own life. The emotion she put forth as an actress was so raw, so visceral, I felt my heart ache for the character before the show was barely underway.

The rest of the first act happened in flashback, where we watched a happy, beautiful Evan graduate from college, meet the guy of her dreams, and struggle with upward mobility in her job in the fashion industry. I was charmed and rooting for her, enjoying life through her eyes. She was funny, likeable, and beautiful. Everything you wanted in a protagonist. In the background, however, the audience saw how the people in Evan’s life were working against her, behind her back, setting her up to fail. She discovered the numerous betrayals at the end of Act I, leaving the audience to wonder during intermission how she’d deal with the trials she’d been dealt. Personally, I was heartbroken for Evan, who was simply confronted with one life- altering blow after another from the people she loved most.

In Act II, Evan’s discoveries send her spiraling into a life of prescription drug abuse and desperation. She eventually makes the decision not to kill herself, but to take back her life one element at a time. We watch her systematically overpower everything that oppresses her and triumph. Her life is a clean slate, spread out before her. She rises from the depths and does so with a flourish.

The story was beautiful. It was a tale of feminine triumph that

brought the audience to their feet at the end of Evan’s final number

in the show. Not only did I stand and applaud wildly at the end of the show, I had tears in my eyes as well. It was a project I would be happy to be a part of. The whole thing was still a little surreal for me.

I paid careful attention to the character of Alexis, the character I would be playing in the show. She was written to be funny, alluring, but in the end, downright duplicitous. The understudy currently playing the part had done a good job, in my opinion, vocally. However, the role called for a lot of dancing and I did see several areas I wanted to tighten up. I also wanted to take the fight scene with Evan to a higher emotional level, if given the leeway to do so from the creative team. I was pumped and wanted to get to work right away.

Once the audience started to leave the theater, we headed to the door Stewart had shown us would lead to the backstage area. We made our way to the greenroom where we met Craig, the production stage manager for the show. Craig would be the one overseeing our rehearsal and putting us into the show when the time came. He pretty much was in charge of the company and the show.

After about fifteen or twenty minutes, the cast in various stages of makeup and dress began to make their way into to the greenroom. We met Benjamin Costa, who played the male lead in the show. Ben was strikingly good looking and intensely well built. It was clear he spent some time in a little place called the gym. When I was introduced as the “new Alexis” his eyebrows shot up and he pulled me into a warm bear hug. I liked this guy.

Not to be left out, Lanie extended her hand, and in a voice an entire octave lower than her own said, “And I’m Elaine. Nice to meet you, Ben. You were great tonight, and can I say very good looking?” Ben blushed. I shook my head and suppressed a grin. Lanie could certainly work it when she wanted to. I could already tell she had set her sights on Ben. Lord help him.

Next up was Sienna Ivy. She was the ensemble member who was filling in as Alexis until I took over in Chicago. I was hoping to sit down with her at some point and talk about the character and what insight she might have. After all, she’d gone on for the role a

number of times. I also wondered why they hadn’t offered the role to her permanently. She was the official understudy, after all. She’d done a nice enough job, no doubt. I walked over to her tentatively and waited for her to finish the conversation she was having with another female cast member. When she turned my direction, I immediately put my hand out. “Hi, Sienna? I’m Jenna McGovern. I wanted to introduce myself. I’m new—”

She put up her hand to stop me. Her face was so impassive, it could have been carved from rock. “I know who you are and why you’re here,” she said icily. “Congratulations, welcome aboard, and all that. Are we done?” A plastic smile stretched across her face. Ouch, she clearly wasn’t a happy camper.

I took a moment. This girl had dropkicked me before even saying hello. This wasn’t good. But I’d been around actors enough to know you shouldn’t show your weaker sides to those that would clearly prey upon them.

I held her gaze and responded evenly. “We’re done if you want us to be.”

“Splendid.” She walked away.

Okay, so maybe everyone wasn’t going to be happy to see me. I hadn’t anticipated this and stood, glued to my spot. I felt arms fold around my waist from behind and a voice in my ear.

“She’s obviously a certified bitch. Don’t let her get in your head. That’s what she wants,” Lanie said quietly. I nodded and gave her arms a squeeze.

“So, you want to meet Adrienne?” Craig asked. I turned to look at him, shaking off the prior conversation.

“Definitely. Let’s do it.” I smiled. Hopefully, this would go

better.

“I’m going to stay and chat with Ben,” Lanie said. “I’ll catch up with you soon.” I squeezed her hand and shot her a knowing grin. She winked back.

I followed Craig down the hall to Adrienne Kenyon’s dressing room. He knocked on the door and, hearing a very distant “come in,” we did. The room was small with an adjoining bathroom/shower. Adrienne must have been finishing up in there as we heard the water

from the shower switch off. Craig directed me to the small couch across from the dressing table and mirror. “Tell you what, Jenna. She’ll be out in a minute or two. Why don’t you wait here and I’m going to go check on the bus, in case folks want to ride back to the hotel, okay? Be back in a sec.”

Before I could protest, Craig was gone and I was alone in the dressing room of a celebrity, a celebrity I was trying desperately to make a good impression on…a celebrity who was just getting out of the shower. Could this be any more awkward? I decided I could meet Adrienne a little later. I started to leave, but before I could make it across the small room, the door to the bathroom opened and Adrienne Kenyon entered, her hair wet and a towel wrapped around her. “Oh, hello,” she said, a polite though perplexed look on her face. I could tell she was trying to be friendly, but also seemed to be wondering who the hell I was and why I was in her dressing room.

“I’m so sorry to barge in on you,” I said. “Craig will be right back. He was going to introduce me because we’re going to work together, I guess, and he’ll be back any second. I’ll wait in the hall.” Man, could I talk any faster?

Adrienne’s eyebrows shot up but luckily she was smiling. Slightly. “It’s not a big deal.” She extended her hand. “I’m Adrienne. Are you Jenna?”

Right, Jenna, that’s me.
“Yes,” I managed and shook her hand. “Just so you know, I wouldn’t normally plant myself in someone’s dressing room without an invitation.”

“We’re pretty informal around here. You never know when you’ll have one of us planted in your dressing room. Don’t worry.” She sat at her dressing table and started to brush out her hair.

I think that’s my cue.
I turned the door handle and started to walk out, but turned back. I had forgotten to say what I needed to most. “Before I go, I just wanted to let you know I saw the show tonight and thought your performance was inspiring. I’m excited to be here, really pumped.” Pumped? Where did I get this stuff? I wanted to crawl into a corner and die.