“Don’t say that. You’re keeping this production afloat. That’s what you’re doing here.” She picked up the chair again and went on her way.
Carly laughed beneath the dark cloud still looming. “Yeah, you and I both know that’s not true. I’m trying to pass as someone who knows what she’s doing.”
“You’re a good actress,” Lauren said plainly. “You bring a lot of bullshit with you, and people put up with it, for that one reason. You’re amazing at what you do.”
A tiny breeze could have blown Carly right over. “Wow. Thank you.”
“And after our trouble today, it means a lot that I’m complimenting you. It means that what I’m saying is true. So you have to ignore Evelyn, because the play is blossoming with the work you and Ethan are doing. She’s been the problem, the one not committing to character.”
Carly was mystified. It was so rare to get to hear Lauren’s actual take on things. Carly wanted to know more, needed to. She longed to know what music she liked best, who her early influences were, what she did at night when she left The McAllister. There was so much ground to cover, but first she needed to internalize the words Lauren had just gifted her. “Thank you for saying that. I feel like I keep trying to connect with her, but it goes nowhere, and it’s hard to develop an onstage relationship if you’re getting nothing back.”
“Let me know if you ever need someone to run lines with you. That’s actually part of my job, believe it or not.”
“Really? You do that? I thought when you said so that first day of rehearsal you were just being polite.”
“I wasn’t. I do it all the time. Most stage managers do.”
That pulled Carly up short. Running lines would actually be incredibly helpful. She’d worked on her own in her apartment, but she hadn’t had that extra person to read with her. The only time she’d been afforded the chance to work on a give-and-take was opposite Evelyn, and that had been only stressful.
“It’s not uncommon, actually. Especially with wordier shows, like this one. The playwright had a lot to say.”
Carly sighed. “You have no idea. When are you free?”
Lauren glanced around. “As soon as I’m done putting the room in order.”
Carly couldn’t believe her luck. “Well, then I will help you in repayment.” She spent the next few minutes following orders and enjoying seeing Lauren in her element, in charge, and with a plan. Just when she thought Lauren couldn’t get any more attractive, she had to go and own a very simple task.
Once they slid the rehearsal couch up against the wall, Lauren grabbed her script, grabbed a spot on that couch, and tucked her feet beneath her. The overhead fluorescents in the room were off and a floor lamp provided soft illumination. “What scene would you like to run?” Lauren asked.
“The last scene we ran today, with the teakettle, and the talking a lot line?”
“Act one, scene four.”
“Yes, that one. I felt like I was all over the place and not zeroing in on my objective or the connection to Mandy. At that point? It should be undeniable that these two are meant to be, and it just…isn’t.” It was the last scene before intermission, when the first version of the couple was at their peak of happiness, the moment a romance novel would have come to a close. The goal, as Ethan had described it, was to build the couple up as so in love, destined to be together, that the audience is dumbstruck to see them miss out on the relationship entirely in act 2 and instead witness how their lives play out if they’d never met. “If there’s no lost relationship, the narrative fails. Nobody will care.”
“Got it,” Lauren said, as she located the scene. Carly, newly off-book for act 1, didn’t need her script.
She looked over at Lauren, who would be reading the first line in the scene. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“So, we’re doing this?” Lauren said, reading the line as Mandy.
Carly, as Ashley, took a deep breath. “Do you know what you’d be getting into? I let teakettles whistle too long on the stove. I scream when spiders show up. I know I’m not the easiest person to love. I’m pretty sure I just lost my job, and my cat moved out. I’ll probably be homeless myself in a matter of—”
“Ashley?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re talking a lot.”
Carly grinned. She liked the way Lauren said that line, with a kind of playful affection. She’d never heard it delivered that way. It gave her a shiver. She kept going. “Should I stop now?”
“You should definitely stop,” Lauren read. “I have a lot of things to figure out, but one of them is definitely not you. You’re staying.” She’d lifted her gaze to Carly’s for that last line and inspired another shiver. Carly was struck—this was what it was supposed to feel like between them.
As they got farther into the scene, Lauren brought warmth, comedy, and a very human vibe to the character of Mandy. Carly felt like she’d stumbled upon a gold mine with this rehearsal session, as it informed so many new choices she hadn’t yet considered. When they finished their fourth run-through of the scene, she stared at Lauren, who still sat on that rehearsal couch against the wall.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Lauren asked, with a curious grin.
Carly shook her head. “I just didn’t see that coming. Have you ever acted before?”
Lauren sighed. “It’s all I ever wanted to do when I was younger. Be onstage, tell amazing stories, hear the audience applaud.” She shrugged. “Wasn’t meant to be.”
Carly didn’t understand. She moved to the couch and took a seat next to Lauren. “Why do you say that? You’re fantastic at it.”
“I don’t know that I would go that far. Didn’t get many jobs. Make that one. A voice job for a nightclub commercial that aired only on the radio. I played the part of a happy college girl, thrilled with the drink options.”
“I’d buy those drinks based on what I just heard.” This whole concept was blowing Carly’s mind and her entire perception of Lauren. “You were out there auditioning? What happened? Why would you give up if it’s what you wanted?”
Lauren nodded, and embarrassment flashed. “I tried to make a go of it. Didn’t work out.” She shrugged, as if stuffing down the regret of what had never been. “After a while it became clear that I was on my way to being a professional waitress and part-time out of work actress. What I really wanted was a way to pay my bills in the midst of something I love.” She gestured to the space around them. “And here I am. The learning curve was steep, and I started at the bottom, but I like to think I’m damn good at my job.”
“You are. Don’t get me wrong.” Carly tucked a knee beneath her. This new information had her keyed up and intrigued on top of the high she’d just received from the nuanced scene work. “Tell me about a favorite role of yours.”
Lauren laughed. She was so pretty when she did that. “I can tell you about the time I received my first lead role. We did Peter Pan Jr. in middle school. I was cast as Wendy, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ll never forget the afternoon I saw my name posted on the cast list.”