Theo
Dealing with exes and sex-crazed co-directors
The technical crew has conducted all their lighting and sound tests, and the set designers have completed all the sets. Today is the day we began our cue-to-cue rehearsals, which is tedious and exhausting, but necessary to ensure that all the tech staff get the lighting cues marked for each actor and scene.
I’m just trying to get through today’s rehearsals before the final dress rehearsal scheduled tomorrow. The nerves and stress are finally breaking through, tensions between the cast, crew and technical staff are definitely coming to the surface.
Although most everyone in this production is a novice, in my experience, professional actors tend to show their true colors during this aspect of the production. Some turn into bitched-out divas and become difficult to work with when they get nervous.
While the cast seem to be holding things together, the crew is at each other’s throats, their voices and words terse and strained.
Dealing with that is to be expected. What I wasn’t planning was the awkwardness that exists between me and Joey.
That shit’s worse than being caught jerking off in the laundry room by my mother when I was fourteen looking at my first porn mag. Uncomfortable doesn’t even cut it.
Especially the kissing scene.
We’ve been through the scene five times during the Q2Q rehearsals, and she’s stiff as a board. All I want to do is bring her into my dressing room, lock the door and show her exactly how sorry I am.
Kiss her senseless until her knees buckle and she falls limp into my arms, as I spew my undying love and ask for her forgiveness.
Instead, she won’t even make eye contact and just responds with a “uh-huh” or “got it” when I give her feedback and direction.
And goddammit, it’s all my fault.
This is exactly why I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her prior to the end of the performances. But I couldn’t resist her.
Sadly, even though this creates some trouble, I don’t even regret getting involved with her and wouldn’t change a thing if I could.
Scratch that.
I would change how I reacted this past weekend.
And I would’ve apologized sooner for my stupid behavior. But the more time goes by and the weight of the stress related to the play on my shoulders, I haven’t had the time or the opportunity to do what I need to do.
It’s just a poor fucking excuse for my cowardly fear.
I’m afraid she’ll reject me.
As a struggling actor and playwright, I’m used to my fair amount of rejection. It’s part of the job and comes with the territory. You put yourself out and your work is bound to receive negative reviews.
In love, you put yourself out there in hopes that your affections will be returned and your heart won’t be broken.
But it was when I was with Alyssa and now I’m protective of my heart. Worried that I’ll meet the same fate and get involved with someone who can easily toss me aside.
Actually, now that I look back on it, I don’t think it was even love to begin with. It was intense. We were either hot or cold. It wasn’t the even steady comfort that I feel with Joey. That easiness of being with her made me feel whole.
And I miss it.
I miss her.
Even though she’s right in front of me on stage, it seems like she’s a hundred miles away. Unless the line requires it, she won’t look me in the eye. There’s no furtive glances or shy smiles like there was over the last few weeks. No secret touches or brushes of her hand as she would walk by in the hallway.
It’s driving me insane. But I can’t do anything about it right now without alerting the media.
And oh fuck, the critics. Niles has already sent out the press release and we have the Tribune and three other local entertainment critics coming to opening night.
The knot in my stomach grows into a grapefruit size ball of anxiety. Now I know why directors drink so heavily. Or do drugs. Aside from a glass of whisky and my little solo drunken night last weekend, I’ve not touched the stuff since.
The tension is getting to me to the point where when I walked out of the theater last night and caught Marlon and Carla sharing a joint, I was seriously considering joining them. But I ended up just picking up take-out and heading back to the apartment.
The only thing that might help me unwind at this point is a good fuck.
As if Birdie can read my thoughts, she slinks up behind me where I hover over the director’s table, looking over all my notes, scripts, stage manager line-note and schedules lined up across the surface. I’ve been trying to organize all my thoughts for the last hour, but keep getting sidetracked when I see Joey.
My body jolts as Birdie aligns her lithe frame behind me, her hand finding its way between my…holy shit! My ass crease.
“Whoa there,” I pump my hips forward to move her hand out of my butt crack. “Birdie, we talked about this.”
My stage whisper can only be heard by her, I hope. She snickers – either a devious tone or something akin to seductive – and then her hand lands at the base of my neck. She strokes the hairline with her fingers, and I instinctively shudder. Not from sexual tension, but from queasiness.
Warm breath fans across my cheek as she leans in and murmurs into my ear.
“Theo, I’ve been so patient. And I can tell you’re strung tight as a whip. We’re almost wrapped up here and I want you to fuck me. It’d do us both some good.”
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and think. If I’ve learned one thing about myself, it’s that I will not be cajoled or manipulated by women who are overly assertive. That’s how I got myself wrapped up with Alyssa.
Time to stand up and act like a man.
I have to tell her no, but need to be careful with my reasons. I still don’t want anyone to know about me and Joey – even if we’re done, I don’t need that to cloud anyone’s perception of her. I want Birdie to know I’m not interested in her because of her.
“Birdie, as you can see, I’m really busy here. I don’t have time for anything like that.”
She doesn’t get the hint.
Her fingers glide down my arm, nails twirling through the wispy light hair on my forearms. I jerk my arm back in a childlike huff.
Then she turns to face my side and literally shoves her breasts into my arm and shimmies, as if I’m some sort of stripper pole.
Eww. I feel so violated.
I look around to see if anyone can see us. The stage lights are on and it’s dark in the theater where we’re set up. All the cast is either in the back going through their costume changes, final fittings or make-up. And I’m stuck trying to ward off a crazed sex-fiend.
“Theo, baby. You’re so tense. I can take care of that for you, you know. Go back into your dressing room, lock the door and I could suck you off. You’ll forget all about the stress. I promise.”
I tip my head down to see her hand covering my crotch. Thank God my dick doesn’t betray me by getting hard. It knows better than to get excited over Birdie’s proposition. She’s not who I want and my dick is smart enough to know it.
I shove her hand away, becoming angrier and more irritated with her aggressive behavior.
“Stop it, Birdie. You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”
Grabbing for a stack of notes, I lean over the table and she grabs my arm.
“Are you fucking her?” she drawls out the her and points her chin toward Joey, who is on stage now speaking with the stage manager.
When my gaze lands on Joey, I find her staring down at me, narrowing her eyes on Birdie’s hand and the proximity of her body next to mine.
Shit. Things are bad enough between us right now. I don’t want her getting the wrong impression that there’s something going on with me and Birdie.
I call out her name. “Joey, can I have a word with you?”
Roger, the stage manager, looks my way and holds up a finger indicating he just needs another minute. That’s fine. It gives me a chance to make my way back to the office where I’ll wait for Joey.
Passing in front of Birdie, I glance back over my shoulder where Birdie seethes in pent up anger. Not my problem or my fault.
“Birdie, it was never going to happen with us. I’m sorry.”
And then I walk down the hallway hoping to have a few private moments with Joey before we begin the full dress rehearsal.
I just need a way to explain myself so maybe she’ll see a way to forgive me.
What’s the worst that can happen?