Jenna & Jonah's Fauxmance (16 page)

18
I’M A MAN

Aaron

Well, I mean, I am nearly eighteen. So legally speaking, I am a man. Almost.

And I did the stupid trapeze exercise without a bunch of whining and complaining, unlike a certain ex-diva I could name.

A certain ex-diva I’m not currently speaking to unless Shakespeare is supplying the words.

Things between us have been pretty frosty since she told me I was a little boy, but I guess it’s good for our performances—Flannery actually said, “Okay, that didn’t suck,” after our rehearsal the other day. Which is pretty much the equivalent of a Tony nomination from anyone else.

Still, Charlie’s gotten inside my head. Because what does it mean to be a man, really?

One day I’m sitting at lunch reading some manly detective novel when Kyanna approaches me. “Hey, bookworm,” she says. “I need some exercise before my four o’clock call. My trusty phone tells me there’s a place that rents mountain bikes about ten miles away. You feel like giving me a ride?”

Do I feel like giving Kyanna a ride? I suppose a grown man wouldn’t so much as arch an eyebrow at the double entendre, so I close my book and say, “Sure.”

We climb into the sweet generic American sedan that I (okay, my people) rented for the entire time we’re here, and I plug the bike rental address into the GPS. As we rumble down the gravel road out of the compound, I spot Charlie looking quizzically at us. Good. Let her wonder.

As for me, I’m wondering how to approach a girl now that I can do it without having to keep it secret. And now that they’re not really throwing themselves at me.

“I’m not gay,” comes out of my mouth before I know what’s happened.

“Uh, okay … ,” Kyanna says, chuckling. “That was kind of random.”

“Well, I mean, there is a train of thought. It’s like, that whole thing was a misunderstanding, but to be honest, I didn’t really care. But Charlie says all the women around here are going to feel all safe with me because they think I’m gay, and that I’m going to misunderstand that, and I mean, I don’t—not that this is anything but a ride to the bike store—but I just wanted you to know up front that I’m a straight man, so, you know, don’t think you can change clothes in front of me because I’m one of the girls kind of thing. You know?”

Kyanna laughs. “Not at all. Aaron, this— You don’t think this is a date, do you?”

Well, no, but I kind of thought it might evolve into one. I’m so glad I have both the road and the GPS to look at. “Oh, God, not at all. I just … whatever. I just wanted you to know that I’m not gay.”

“Message received.”

“Turn left, fool!” the GPS barks at me, and Kyanna looks at it in amazement.

“Yeah, I paid extra to get the Mr. T voice on it,” I say, grinning, and then I realize maybe that was kind of a non-grown-up move. I swear to God, Charlie is going to ruin everything for me. I stare at the road for a minute or so.

“So can I ask you something?”

“Okay,” Kyanna says.

“And I really want you to be honest, okay? I’m not looking for reassurance here; I’m looking for honesty.”

“Honest. I got it.”

“Is my performance … Am I … Ah, well, Charlie and I had this big blowout, and she told me that I was still doing Jonah, that I couldn’t find the character because Benedick is a grown-up.”

I can feel my face getting hot. Falsely outed in the national press, not embarrassed at all. Admitting that something Charlie said got under my skin—yeah, I’m embarrassed by that.

“Well, I mean, I’m gonna have to sidestep the issue of you—honestly, I’m a lot more worried about me. Because there’s just not a lot there as far as Hero is concerned. Like, I feel like there’s not a whole lot of character there, so I have to find it myself, but I’ll do a horrible job. So in complete honesty, I’m not paying any attention to anybody else’s performance. But I am reading the play a lot, and I don’t agree that Benedick is a grown-up. I mean, yeah, he’s a war hero and everything, but through most of the play, he’s pretty much of a little kid. I mean, he’s still kind of stuck in the ‘girls are icky’ stage.”

“Hmmm … I guess I thought he was just faking that because he’s in love with Beatrice.”

“He’s too dumb to know he’s in love with Beatrice! He just thinks she drives him nuts.”

“Well,” I say, laughing, “if Benedick is clueless, I’m sure Charlie will feel like I’ve got a better shot at finding the character.”

“Right turn, fool!” the GPS yells. I comply.

“Why do you care what she thinks, anyway?” Kyanna says.

“Oh, God, I don’t care really. It’s just that after four years of working together, and pretending to be in love was work, too—believe me, that was much harder work than the stupid show—she just knows exactly what buttons to push to get inside my head. It really … God, I honestly can’t wait to be rid of her.”

“Really?”

“Quit your jibber-jabber! Your destination is a hundred yards ahead on the left!” Mr. T informs us.

“Oh, yeah, really,” I say.

“So why’d you come here?”

“Because I wanted to see if acting could be fun again. And because I guess I felt guilty about Charlie’s career and what my alleged homosexuality had done to it, and I didn’t want to let her down since they sold us to the festival as a package deal.”

“I see. Well, you feel like renting a bike? I’ll make sure to ride behind you so your very heterosexual eyes won’t be drawn to my admittedly fabulous butt.”

“Thanks, but I think I’m just gonna try to do some thinking.”

“If you ask me, you do too much of that already,” she says with a smile, then shuts her door and is gone.

“Where we goin’? Input a destination or shut me off!” Mr. T exclaims.

When I get back to my cabin after dropping off Kyanna, my phone, which has been sitting on my nightstand all day (I don’t know what Flannery would do if my cell phone rang during rehearsal, but I’m pretty sure I would never be the same afterward), is ringing. Jo.

“Hey, Jo. I heard you shot your woman down,” I say.

“You know, no one has ever made a ‘Hey Joe’ joke to me before. I congratulate you on your wit and originality!” Jo says.

“If I want someone to bust my balls, Charlie’s cabin is just down the path from me.”

“Well, don’t worry, we’ll have her moved next door. Or we’ll move you. Anyway, you’ll be next-door neighbors.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Well, if you ever answered your phone or checked your messages, you’d know what the hell I’m talking about. I’ve been pitching nonstop since you guys left, and I’ve finally sold your reality show.”

“Reality show?”

“Yeah, you know, two big stars brought low and working at a rural Shakespeare festival. It’s a great concept. And it’ll really help you guys rehabilitate your image.”

“Yeah. There’s nothing like a reality show to stop you from being a laughingstock. Look at Paris Hilton. Or, no, bad example. Tori Spelling. No, okay, sorry, the Kardashians—no, Jack Osbourne. Spencer whoever the hell that guy is.”

“Fielding.”

“Aaron. My name is Aaron. Fielding is my stage name. And a stupid, pretentious one at that.”

“No argument from me, but that’s the brand I work for—”

“I’m not a brand!”

“No,
Aaron
, you’re not a brand, but Fielding is. And this is what we need to do to protect the Fielding brand.”

“I am not doing it. Absolutely not. I’m not having cameras up my ass every minute of the day here. I won’t be able to act, and it’ll make everyone hate us—”

“Yeah, struggling actors at a tiny regional Shakespeare festival really hate national TV exposure. What the hell was I thinking?”

“You don’t— I don’t care. I won’t do it. I will not participate in this.”

“I’ve been working nonstop on this for the last two weeks. I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist.”

“No. Absolutely not. I will walk. I will leave Oregon and fly away the minute the cameras show up.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option. You need to do what you’re told on this.”

“The hell I do. You’re fired.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I’ll get my attorney to fax you all the relevant documents. As of right now, I don’t have an agent.”

Jo heaves a heavy sigh. “I’ll be there this evening, and we’ll—”

“No, Jo, don’t come here. I don’t want to—”

“Let’s see—great, there’s a flight in an hour and a half … I’ll be at your cabin at seven thirty.”

“No. Jo, no. Seriously, no. I do not—” I look at my screen.
Call ended,
it tells me.

…

I spend the rest of the day with my stomach in a knot. I do not want to see Jo. Ever again, really. Not just because I don’t want Hollywood intruding on my Edenic Shakespeare experience, but also because I’ve been doing whatever Jo tells me to do for the last four years, and I’m afraid that once she’s here I’ll just give in to her and say yes, like I always do. I’m sure she’s counting on the same thing.

The only thing I can do is to try to sabotage the reality show deal before she gets here. I come up with a plan, and when she gets back from her bike ride, Kyanna agrees to help me.

I don’t mention anything to Charlie. This is partly because we’re not really speaking right now, but it’s also because I’m afraid of her talking me out of it, too.

I guess these are really baby steps toward becoming a man—avoiding all the women I usually obey—but they are steps.

I walk out of dinner as a Lexus SUV comes crunching up the gravel drive to the dining hall. Jo gets out. She’s traded the usual power outfit for what appear to be brand-new outdoorsy L.L. Bean clothes.

“Fielding. Aaron. Whoever,” she says. “Let’s have a talk, shall we? I brought you something.” She walks around to the back of the SUV and opens the hatch, revealing a seventeen-inch HDTV monitor, an Xbox 360, and a bunch of games. The kind of thing you’d use to buy off a teenage boy, and the kind of gift that wouldn’t impress a man at all.

“Jo, I really don’t— I’m enjoying the time I get to spend reading out here.”

“Of course you are.”

Now Charlie emerges from the dining hall and walks right over and shakes Jo’s hand. “Hi! Jo, I spoke to Martinka earlier—I really want to thank you for all your hard work on this. I think it’s going to be a great step.”

“Thanks so much, Charlie—let’s grab coffee when you get back.”

“Sounds great,” Charlie says as she trots off.

“You. Let’s go to your cabin,” Jo says, all trace of the smile she faked for Charlie disappearing from her face.

“Great,” I say.

Once inside my cabin, Jo looks around, unable to disguise her distaste. “Well. They’re certainly making you suffer for your art here, huh?”

“It’s fine.”

“That’s great you think that. So listen, I brought the contracts. Have you had some time to cool down and rethink this?”

“No. I’m not doing it. And you’re still fired.”

“Stop that. You know only your mom can fire me, at least until you’re eighteen. Now listen. I’m not going to lie to you. This isn’t great money, and you’re right, of course, about the whole reality show stigma, but it will keep you in the public eye. Especially because we’ve got a killer story arc planned.”

“I thought it was a
reality
show.”

“Don’t be naive. You’ll start out estranged from Charlie—we’ve arranged for James to do a guest shot on opening night, apologizing for not coming out and for falsely tagging you with the gay label—and then you’ll move closer and closer to Charlie until the hang-gliding episode—”

“Hang gliding?”

“It’s gonna be great TV, okay? And then you’ll—”

“Well, I don’t know, Jo. Lemme look at the contracts.”

Jo’s shoulders relax and her tight smile loosens up a little. “Great. I knew you’d see reason.”

I flip through the contract. “Ooh. Morality clause.”

“Same as the
J&J
contract.”

“I’m afraid I might have violated this already.”

“Listen, what happens in Oregon stays in Oregon, as long as the cameras aren’t here.”

“Well, you never know. I mean, with cell phone cameras everywhere, you can never tell exactly who’s taking your picture. You should probably check the Internet just to make sure nothing’s leaked out.”