The Final Act

Chapter Eight: First Rehearsal

Rory made his coffee and sat down with the morning paper. He didn't have to be at the theatre until 9 and it was only 6. He hardly ever got up this early, but yesterday's experience left him energized. What was it about this girl that had him so mesmerized? Maybe she was just that good an actor. He didn't think so. The way she looked in to his eyes was more than just a role.

I can't believe I won out over all those other guys. Maybe it was the scruffy look. But, I swear, the chemistry with that girl—I don't even know her name, the director just kept calling her Miss Callahan— was more than role playing. Or at least it was for me. She might have just been in the zone. Whatever it was, it exhilarated me beyond the role we were playing. I can't wait for rehearsals to begin to see if the magic is still there.

He went in to shave—the beard was getting annoying and since he already had the part, he could clean up a bit. If they liked the look he could always grow it back again. He thought again about the girl with the beautiful blonde hair and sky blue eyes. There was something just below the surface that he couldn't quite put his finger on. There was a depth to her that she was covering over. He wondered if her life was just a role to her. He desperately wanted to break beneath the surface to find the real person hidden inside. Maybe he was just imagining all this and she had just been acting all along. But, what happened when they began their impromptu banter? That was her. Too many thoughts running through his head for so early in the morning.

He called Uber and scheduled a ride for 8:00. The theatre was just across town but with morning traffic in New York he needed to allow extra time. He couldn't be late for his first day of rehearsals. Grabbing his script and a Ticonderoga #2 pencil to mark it up as the director made changes, he dressed in his jeans and a polo shirt and went downstairs to wait for his ride.

"So, you got the gig," said Frank, the driver, as he swerved through the traffic to get Rory to the theatre by 9. Rory often got Frank at this hour of the morning and they had become pretty good friends.

"Yeah, and you should see the leading lady. Man, is she a looker. We really connected on stage and I don't mean just in our parts. There was definitely a vibe between us. I'm anxious to see where this might go." Rory got out of the car and this time went in the stage door, just like the girl did for the first rehearsal. "The girl," he said. "I have to find out her name—I can't keep referring to her as "the girl."

She was there already, looking like she had just come down from heaven. He went up to her and asked her first name. He found it awkward calling her Miss Callahan. She told him her name was Angel. How appropriate, he thought. She looks like an angel. They sat in the empty, lifeless auditorium, waiting for the director. Without the lights, the theatre looked forlorn and soulless. Without their lines, Rory and Angel were uncomfortable. They needed a jump start. Once they were in character, the barrier between them would be torn down and the words would once again flow. What was there about this girl, other than her beauty, that was drawing Rory to her? There seemed to be a sadness underneath that he couldn't touch—a sadness she kept hidden so well. What would he discover when she let down her guard, if she did? He was determined to chip away at her façade until he uncovered the real Angel.

They sat patiently waiting for their cue. Once on stage, the electricity between them was palpable. They began reading their lines and once again that insurmountable feeling of being caught up in a vortex overtook them both. Her blue eyes met his brown ones in a dance of emotion. The love scenes wrote themselves, dispensing with the need for any direction. Their scenes were charged—their emotions raw.

Angel was frightened. She was not acting. She was not just emoting. It was real. She composed herself when the scene was over and fled backstage to get a grip on her emotions. Rory left her alone, not sure himself what just happened between them. The director was charged. He had witnessed some incredible acting in his thirty plus years in the theatre but nothing compared to what had just taken place on his stage. If he could keep the energy going, he was certain to have a hit on his hands. Little did he know that his main characters were only beginning to connect. What would happen down the line would frighten them both.