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Jessie hugs me and gives Ian a friendly wave as she heads off in the direction of the library.
“Nice to meet you,” Ian calls after her.
“You too!” Jessie yells back with a smile.
“Shall we?” Ian opens the door to the theater for me.
“So are you off book yet?” I ask as we walk inside.
“Yeah, totally. I memorized it all in one week,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his words.
“We’ve had the script for two weeks, kiddo.”
“Wait.” Ian stops walking, but I don’t. “You’re actually memorized?”
I shake my head in mock disappointment and descend the steps to the black box theater, not answering his panicked question.
“God, the vibes in this room are atrocious,” Anastasia’s saying as we walk in. “Did you bring incense?” she asks Madison, who is already here and gives Anastasia a blank stare, like a wild animal caught in a trap not meant for her. Anastasia sighs and rummages around in her purse, eventually finding a stick of incense and a small lighter.
As much as I hate to admit it, Anastasia is right. The energy is off in here. A little incense wouldn’t hurt.
“That is a fire hazard,” Ian says and plucks the lighter out of her hand before she can light the stick.
Anastasia’s jaw drops open, but she’s fighting a smile too, as if Ian were flirting with her. I watch her eyes follow every move he makes as he pockets her lighter and sets his stuff down in the chairs of the audience on the opposite side of the stage from me. She bites her bottom lip, and when he turns back to her, she pushes her lips out in a pout.
“Ugh, fine. But you’re the one who has to deal with the bad energy,” she says and tucks the incense back in her purse.
It didn’t occur to me that Anastasia might have cast Ian because she has a crush on him, but even for Anastasia, that seems like a stretch. She probably has a crush on him because he’s a straight single guy in theater, and those are hard to come by.
I fight to hide my disgust as I offload my own things onto an audience chair, finding a nearby plug to charge my phone.
“All right, let’s start from the top,” Anastasia says, and Ian and I take our spots on the stage. Anastasia has adopted a New York-type accent. At this point, I don’t think I know what her real voice sounds like.
“Where’s your script?” Ian asks in a whisper.
“I’m off book,” I say with a shrug.
“You were serious?” He clutches at his script, fidgeting with it until it rolls up into a tight circle and then unrolling it.
“I’d love to get through the whole thing three or four times today. Repetition is key,” Anastasia says. “Go ahead and start on the couch, Ian. Jade, you’re?—”
“Offstage, yes,” I say, grinding my teeth.
There’s no actual couch on stage, just two black wooden boxes that will serve as the couch through all our rehearsals. Ian takes a seat there.
“Jade, your cue is going to be the end of the third ring. I’m going to have Madison walk through the light and sound cues, just so you guys can get used to that. Ian, remember, you’re staring at the phone. Your wife is calling. All the feelings, okay?”
I’m in the wings and can’t see Ian’s expression, but I’m guessing it’s something between a lost puppy and a person swimming in the ocean hoping for a life raft. Poor kid.
What am I saying? Poorme. I’m the one trying to give my whole self to this play, and he’s over here acting like he’s being tortured.
“Sound cue one, go,” Madison says.
“Ring, ring,” Anastasia says.
“Light cue one, go,” Madison says. “The lights come up.”
“Ring, ring.” Anastasia again.
