Joy on Stage Part

I didn't know I was headed for disaster as soon as the week arrived. We were having fun, and more importantly, we were all coming together. Walt and Michelle were great together, and Rosemary's advice had brought out a performance in me that was both dangerous and exhilarating. For the first few days I freaked out thinking that the critics would think I was bad—I was another disciple of the past two generations of subtle, "important" acting, and it took me a while to get used to playing to the back row. But all in all, we were all starting to see what Rosemary did, and she seemed happy with us, our work, and the way the crew was bringing the stage to life. Nobody could sense doom in the air, but maybe that's because that doom was only coming for me, and I was too high on the thrill of the show.

Sunday night was long and arduous, but not enough to dampen our spirits. Tech nights were either difficult or hell, there had been no other mile markers in my theater history, and I felt a little more confident in my experience when our Sunday proved to be right between the two. Rosemary left us by ourselves for a third of the show, the first act, where I felt most confident, but we later found out it was for a good cause. She gave us a few notes at the end, hardly paying attention to anything she said, then told us all she had a surprise she was really excited about.

"The author will be here this week to see what we're doing with his play," she said, grinning. Some of them didn't find the revelation as exciting as Rosemary and I did. Terry Townshend was coming! I almost wanted to scream it out to the others.

I even went home and told Miller. I probably would have called Vaughn and told him, but I hadn't seen anything of him since inviting him to the underwear party, and maybe I was a little stung by the rejection. Of course, some nervousness came with the idea of the author seeing us perform his work—maybe he would think we were mangling it.

That didn't end up being the problem. I met Terry the next night, a very tall guy like a fair-haired Jeff Goldblum with a considerable forehead and bigger teeth. He had small granny glasses that made him resemble John Lennon a bit—just a bit—and I found him handsome, in a weird way, though he was about 45 and not especially sexy. He was polite to everyone, smiled, but so shy it was easy to mistake him for disinterested or faking it. I wondered if he was until Rosemary caught us after the notes session, when Townshend had gone back to his hotel room.

"He loves the play," she said, and she sounded as surprised as if he had just announced it to her. "He

loves

it. He thought we were—he told me how good you all are, Walt, he raved about how you brought Harry to life without mis-playing it. Michelle, he just

loved

you... Papa, Jesus, he kept telling me how much he thought you were bringing to those scenes. He actually said he wished he wrote more scenes for Ozzie."

I tried not to take it personally she didn't mention me by name, she was obviously caught up in a happy frenzy. It just meant that he didn't say anything or that she didn't pass it on, not that he didn't like me... right?

Nothing adds to anxiety like finding out you don't have a ride home. I went looking for Pam after I changed back into my clothes and found she had left. Rosemary had to stay to make some adjustments to the set—some off-handed comment from Townshend suddenly made her feel like it was too large, it needed to feel smaller—and I just missed Walt going out to his sports car. I thought about running to catch up with him, but hitting him up for a ride when he had been pretty closed-mouth about his private life struck me as a mistake, as well as unnecessary. I put my mind on getting a ride from one of my friends.

Miller didn't answer at home, Chuck didn't answer at work. My pride and my feet had a short internal war, thinking about trying to walk home or find a bus station, but between the danger and the fact I didn't have enough for fare, my feet won—I called Vaughn. He was happy to hear from me, he claimed, and would pick me up.

"I'm really sorry I didn't make it to your party," he said, oozing sincerity, and naturally, I pretended I was never mad at him. He didn't buy it. "I know it was important to you. I screwed up. I let Bobbie talk me out of going... she and her friends wanted to go out and she wanted me to go, I argued with her about it. The two of us ended up staying home, not even talking to each other, and... stupid of me. But I'll be there Friday for the first night of the play."

I told him he was sweet, finding it hard to wipe the smile off my face. I watched him for a moment, his skin going darker as we passed through shadows in his speeding car, but loving how his skin was illuminated whenever we came out of them again. He caught me looking and smiled self-consciously.

"I won't be doing anything that stupid again."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." I almost added that he was bound to disappoint me, I even expected he would miss the Friday show, but when I thought better of speaking, he answered in the quiet.

"I won't be doing anything stupid because of Bobbie again," he assured me. "She's moving out."

I couldn't believe it. Then I checked my excitement when I remembered how many times he had broken up with or almost broken up with Bobbie in the past. I loved Vaughn, or at least felt a strong infatuation with him, but he would never be mine. I had learned that the hard way, after my early crush met resistance.

"I'm sorry. I know you guys mean a lot to each other."

"Not really, Chelsea," Vaughn sighed, sounding more confident about his relationship than usual. This new Vaughn with his not-sorry-to-see-you-go attitude made me pretty hot. "She said some pretty awful things."

"Ouch. About...?" When he only took a tentative breath, I already knew whom she was trashing, and I had no interest in really hearing it. Well, maybe a little. "I guess I said some bad stuff about her before. Most of it not to you. I didn't like her. I'm sorry... I know that's going to come back to bite me in the ass when you guys get back togeth—"

"We're not getting back together," he insisted with a laugh. "I don't blame you, Chels, I don't, I know I've said that before and I ended up crawling back to her or she would come back to me and I'd fall for it. But I'm not in love with her anymore. I've got..."

He didn't finish the sentence, so I asked him, hopefully, what he had that made the difference.

Vaughn replied, "I've got more than enough history with her to know it won't work." I had a suspicion, or maybe just a wish, that it wasn't what he stopped himself from saying.

We stopped in front of the apartment and I got out of the car, told him I couldn't wait to see him after the show, and Vaughn promised he would see me there. I started to run inside, but he got out of the car and waved me over to him. For a minute he just stared at me, and I made my goofy smile face, wanting to pretend I was comfortable with him being so close.

Vaughn leaned in and kissed me. I couldn't believe it was happening. I must have been like a dead fish for a few seconds, but then I started to kiss him back, overenthusiastic, grabbing the back of his bald head and sinking my fingers into his arm. I was shivering all over, unable to believe this was happening. I think three cars drove around his while we continued just kissing. When we parted, I couldn't stop smiling, just a real goon, but he didn't run away.

"We had makeup sex... Bobbie and me. The night we made up after the fight about your party."

"Okay. Don't really need to hear all this—"

"She asked me what I was thinking about when we were done. I had made her cum pretty hard, I guess." I looked away. This was more like the Vaughn I knew, maybe a bit more explicit, but never knowing when to change the subject from his fucking girlfriend. I couldn't believe I heard what I heard next. "I only got through sex with her by thinking about you."

"Uh... Vaughn..."

He put his fingers on my lips and traced my smile, which wouldn't have come off with dynamite at that confession. "I've been thinking about you a lot. Missing you... this job and this play, I know you love the acting and the job, you have to do that... but I really miss seeing you every day. I should be making time for you. I kept thinking that ever since that night with Bobbie. I wasted so much time trying to make her happy... just because she left her fiancé for me. Honestly, Chels, I realized it was nothing but... some kind of sick guilt keeping me with her. But it was you I wanted to be with. Then she came home Saturday night, drunk, wanting to have one of those relationship discussions where she just tells me that I'm letting her down and not making her feel special. I told her she wasn't special. I was tired of—"

"You didn't say that! Oh my god, Vaughn, look at you!"

"I said it," he laughed. "She freaked out. No shit. She said she would start moving her things out the next day. I slept in my car that night. But she was gone by the end of Sunday. She'll be back for her stuff, but... I don't care. It doesn't hurt to see her like it used to. I'm just finished caring about making her happy. Let some other guy do it. I've got people more important to me."

We kissed again. Someone beeped his horn as he passed Vaughn's car, and he looked over at him before looking me in the eyes again.

"This is a bad night for it, I know."

"Oh fuck, there's never been a better night."

He nodded at me. "So I'm not... misreading you? You want this thing with me?"

"Of course I do. I have for... anyway, that's a long story."

"I'd love to hear it," he said. We kissed three more times in short succession, then I had to pull away. I was kicking myself, still unsure I was doing the smart thing.

"You're not going to change your mind by Friday?"

"No. I'm sure about this. I've never been—"

"I hate my fucking job. I wish the warehouse would just burn down."

"Then call in sick tomorrow."

I loved the thought, but had to shake my head. It almost made me cry. "I'm missing a lot of hours already this week. Oh my god, you don't know how much I want..." I ran to him and kissed him again, tears actually fell from my eyes, and I bounced on my feet as I stared at his smile. This was me and Vaughn. This was really happening.

We promised each other we would go out for a real date after the first show on Friday night. Even if it was just a taco stand at midnight, we would make the best of it—and we would have a long night, I said with a nervous grin. Vaughn said he wouldn't be able to keep his mind on his studies until then.

I went upstairs to my apartment squealing like a little girl. I blew off the offer of dinner from my roommates and went right to my room to act out some of my fantasies of the two of us, with my jittery fingers standing in for my new romantic interest.

I flew into the play next day after work on cloud nine—right until Rosemary took it upon herself to knock me off.

"Come here and talk to me for a minute, Chelsea," she said, grim-faced, and then she lead me out to the lobby. It was unusual for her to seek such privacy, but by then I had forgotten altogether worries about getting replaced in the play.

I wasn't quite smiling, but there was an undercurrent of giddiness all through my body as I stared at Rosemary, raised my eyebrows expectantly, and waited for her to burst my balloon.

"This is me... asking you... to appear naked in the play," she said. Rosemary felt she had to add, "Fully naked."

I felt warm all over and flustered as I tried to understand what she meant—not that she had muddled her words. I couldn't imagine where she wanted me to appear naked in the play, we had blocked everything extensively. Rosemary launched into this lengthy explanation of her reasoning while I stood there with growing anxiety. Terry had expected to hate what we were doing with the play, she told me, but it really filled him with excitement when he got to see it. We had made all the right choices, as she quoted him, we actors were really excited about the roles and we had equal parts sweetness and morbidity in the correct places—according to Rosemary's account, Terry thought we were doing a much better play than the script he had given us.

Taking a reluctant breath, Rosemary went on, "I met with Terry for drinks to talk about it and he brought me something I hadn't expected—he had done a rewrite on the play after New York. He had done it for his own sake mostly, or that's what he said, and he never planned on showing it to me, but then, he never planned on approving of what we were doing with it after New York. I read the script and I realized we could make a number of these changes. Some of them are beyond us at this point—he had a whole scene with a childhood friend of Harry's whose wife Harry cheated with, love that scene, but there's no way to get it on stage at this point. He changed quite a few lines. But the biggest change is that... well... he made the seduction of Harry stronger than it was on the page. He thought we did that scene very well—he complimented you on it, in fact, he said you were irresistible... but in this new draft, he thought it had great impact to have Joy, as the incarnation of the id, to strip while seducing Harry."

"Oh," I said, when it was clear Rosemary wanted to hear that I was following. "That would be... you said... fully nude? You do mean—"

"Just like Michelle. A strip scene, but you're on the other side of the seduction." I sensed Rosemary was holding something back, stared at her until she finished it. "The... seduction... it still comes at the end of act one. You would... strip... then perform a sex scene with Harry. It's a little more than we've done before... and, uh... when we come back from the blackout... you would be...

naked

... for the rest of the show."

I stammered as I tried to comprehend all that this meant. "I wuh-wuh... now... you're

saying

... you want me to be... I would be naked... for all of the second act?

Naked all the way through the end of the play

?!?"

I put my hands over my face and shook all over thinking about it. I might have been close to hyperventilating, my thoughts and mental images were running away with me. Rosemary touched my shoulder and tried to get me to calm down.

"I know this is a lot to ask," she said simply, "but I thought you would be agreeable to the idea... you did try out for the role of Tracy originally. You certainly have nothing that should stay hidden. Terry remarked you were very attractive... he thought you would bring out the wild in Joy even more in the nude."

This was it, I again told myself. She was going to fire me if I said no. I removed my hands and she could see I was starting to cry. I felt all the more stupid for being out there in the lobby in just my underwear, getting ready to bawl like a baby.

"Honey, come on... please don't get so worked up. You've been doing the show in your underwear for a week or so without thinking about it."

"But I've been in my underwear," I whined, "not totally naked."

Rosemary's soft side slipped for a moment and she sighed, then rolled her eyes. "Don't freak out. Don't cry about this. I'm giving you the choice, Chelsea," she said. She let that sink in for a moment, then elaborated, "We're choreographing a new version of the seduction. It will end with you straddling Walt and kissing him. That's on the agenda tonight, that and adjusting the lines we've changed. I think you should do the striptease and the nude scene. I really

want

you to do it that way. So does Terry. But I know it's not what you signed up for. It's a significant change in what we've been doing, it's very late notice, and after all the stress we've been through with actors in this production, I'm not forcing anyone to do something she's uncomfortable with this late in the game. Learn the new blocking, don't bother stripping tonight. Keep your panties on—and your bra. Sorry, not a good time for a joke... but Chelsea, give it some real thought. I wouldn't ask anything of you that would hurt you. I wouldn't ask anything of you that doesn't make the play better. I wouldn't ask anything of you I wouldn't do myself."

I told her alright, that I would think about it, but that's not quite where my mind was when we went back into the theater. I checked my makeup in Pam's makeup mirror and made sure it was alright; she asked why I had been crying and I smiled at her and said I was just nervous. Terry was back in the audience, I saw. I took the stage and wondered what he would think if I refused to do what Rosemary wanted.

I wouldn't be fired, she promised. It didn't mean she'd be happy with me. I had heard her talk about Lynne enough times over the breaks to know that girl would never work with her again. I was likely to make the list as well when I came in tomorrow and told her I wasn't doing it. And I

wasn't

doing it. I couldn't. In fairness, if she would have offered me the role in the beginning and told me about the nudity she expected, I would have politely turned it down. Maybe I wouldn't—no, of course I would have. The money and the professional line on my resume wasn't worth this kind of stress. Rosemary and I exchanged a glance, she smiled, I smiled back, and I knew I was going to feel horrible when I broke it to her. I should just tell her, I thought more than once, but it was better to sleep on it and at least let her believe I had given it some real thought.

Our six-minute seduction scene lasted about forty minutes that night as we re-blocked it. I was supposed to bounce on my feet and make my tits jiggle, which I did—no sense in fighting too much, I was already on thin ice. Then I wrapped an arm around Walt's neck and ran my fingers through his lovely hair. Rosemary pushed my butt so that I ground my pelvis into his. Hump him like he's a prison bitch, she said, which made me blush and laugh. A few days ago I might have thought that would be the most nerve-wracking thing I would do on stage.

She also added a kiss to the scene—and a lick. I breathe in Walt's face like I'm starting to have an orgasm, then make a yelp, push my lips into his, a wet, moving kiss... and then when I pull away I give him my devil smile, then lick my way up his cheek. Rosemary squealed when she saw me do it, laughing with me as I tried to stay in character. She loved it, she said.

I looked forward to the break to collect my head. I had been kissed by Vaughn the night before—I probably could have fucked him, if I hadn't chickened out and bowed down to my early morning schedule. I couldn't believe I had anything bigger to think about than that, but then Rosemary dropped this thing into my lap. I sat down on the edge of the stage and felt cold all over. It wasn't going to be any better wearing less clothes, I thought with an upset stomach. I saw Rosemary waving me closer to her again.

"I haven't made up my mind."

"I know that. I said we could talk about it tomorrow. I had something else to tell you about this role," she said. She was more nervous than before—something was somehow

worse

than what she already broke to me. With a quick breath, Rosemary said, "If you do the nude scenes, I'll need you to shave."

I glanced down, picking up on what she meant, or so I thought. "You said my legs are fine already, so I assume you mean... well, I keep that cut pretty close—"

"I want you to shave it all off." I stared at her, wide-eyed. "

All

of it, Chelsea."

This was pretty unthinkable in 1992, at least for me. I had never seen a grown woman bare down there. I looked down at the black panties I wore as my regular costume and didn't want to think how it would look—and then to go on stage with

that

? Or without that was maybe more accurate. My eyes were watering again, and I asked her why.