Star Attraction (5 page)

Judging from the way he was
smirking at her, Peter was probably thinking right now that she wouldn’t be up
to much. So she whipped out her text and studied her lines one last time until
she was word-perfect so he couldn’t show her up.

The others arrived soon after, and
disappeared in order to try on their costumes, most of which were pronounced
to
 
be a great success.

“Love the codpiece, Peter!”
someone sniggered as soon as he came out to show off his fine new clothes.

Zaira had the feeling it was going
to be a rather long rehearsal.

No sooner had they started, than
it became apparent that Peter had barely practiced, even though the theatre
festival was in two weeks. An even worse issue soon came too the fore.
 
They all thought each one of them ought
to be director.
 

Zaira had got the post by default,
because the last person had backed out and no one else had been willing to take
the responsibility for all the decision-making.
 
But now that a large share of the hard work was finished,
they all wanted to take credit for any success they might attain at the
festival.

Zaira sighed and ordered them all
to take their places. They did a run through of the first act.
 
Well, it was more of a plod, really, than
a run.
  
It could only have
been charitably described as appalling, with the most unconvincing ghost
imaginable, and an even worse Hamlet.
 

Zaira desperately tried to get
Peter to follow instructions, but he refused to take any criticism.
 
The ghost began to improve after a few
runs through, but the Prince of Denmark got more and more reckless as he went
on.

“Who ever told that idiot he could
act must have been crazy,” she suddenly heard a deep voice say in her ear.

Looking up, she saw Brad looking
down at her, and her breath was snatched away by the beauty of his smile.
 
He was dressed in a black polo neck
jumper and fawn coloured trousers, which emphasized his muscular build.

“Can you tell me where Zoe
Dominick is?
 
I’m supposed to meet
her at one, but I’m a bit early.”

Zaira was astonished that Brad
didn’t recognize her, but then remembered the long black wig and costume she
was wearing, no glasses, and the fact that he knew her as Zaira, not Zoe.

“I’m Zoe,” she said with an
affected Southern drawl, intending just to tease him until he realized who she
was, but he only frowned more deeply.
 
She wondered why he looked as though he didn’t believe her, or as if he
was in some way disturbed—perhaps he had recognized her after all?

Then her attention shot back to
the stage.
 
Peter had begun to
flail his arms around wildly, looking not so much like a Danish prince as a
Dutch windmill.

“I would love to talk to you in a
short while, but for now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’d better try to fix
this mess.
 
Perhaps if I'm an
absolutely unbearable leading lady, we can get someone who can really act,”
Zaira said with a laugh.

“Come now, let’s do our scene
again, Peter,” Zaira chirped sweetly.

The rest of the company saw from
the glint in her eye that she was really going to put him through the
ringer.
 
Sure enough, he missed
every cue, muttered some lines, stumbled over others.
  

Zaira went on ruthlessly, word
perfect, playing the scene for all it was worth.
 
She went on remorselessly, making him repeat the lines over
and over again, until finally Peter’s patience snapped.

“This isn’t fair, I haven’t had
much of a chance to rehearse!” he whined.

“As if any of us have!”
 
Zaira shot back.
 
“You should have thought of that before
you decided to massage your male ego trying to play a part which is obviously
beyond you.”

“Now look, I know you’re the
director, but there is no need to be like that!
 
After all, it isn’t as if you’re a professional, at either
acting or directing,” Peter said with a smirk.

 
Zaira took a sharp breath, but was saved any further
arguments by Brad Clarke, who came out of the shadows and onto the stage.
  

Several of the company recognized
him instantly, and their eyes nearly came out of their sockets.
  
Zaira heard a few nervous
whispers, and even a chuckle.

Brad said softly, “She is as
professional as they come in both fields. Any film or play is based on teamwork
as well as individual performances.
 
So for everyone’s sake, why don’t you either make the effort to do as
you are told, and do it properly, or let someone else have a chance to play the
part.”

“I don’t know who you think you
are, giving me orders like that," said the obtuse Peter, "but even if
what you’re saying is true, there’s no one in this room fit to do it!”

The entire company bristled, and
of course Brad couldn’t resist rising to the challenge.

“We’ll see about that!
 
Zoe, get into place!”

 
Zaira jumped to attention, and with a thrill of excitement
realized that he was going to rehearse the part of Hamlet with her.
 
She had been pretty embarrassed about
his remarks concerning her professionalism. Now she was going to have to act
with him, face to face.
 
It was too
embarrassing.

But she knew this was her one
chance of getting rid of Peter once and for all, so she accepted the inevitable,
and began the scene again.

The entire theatre was silently
transfixed by the performance they witnessed.
 
Brad’s awesome presence filled the stage.
 
Even having to read from the book, he
was far better than Peter could ever hope to me.

Encouraged by his forceful
rendition of the part, Zaira was better than ever.

At the end of the scene, the whole
company broke out into rapturous applause, and she could see Peter scowl as one
or two of the men in the cast ventured to come up and pat Brad on the
back.
 

He tried one last tactic, which
sent everyone into a fit of hysterical laughter. “Just who do you think you
are, interfering?!”

“Brad Clarke, who else?
 
I’m sure you’ve seen every one of my
films, whether you’re a fan or not.”

Peter’s jaw dropped open, and he
fled the stage.

Zaira laughed so hard she could
barely speak. “Well done. You got rid of him once and for all.
 
Now all we have to worry about is his
replacement.
 
I suppose I can ask
some of the lads to have a go next time.”

“If the part is still open, I’ll
do it,” Brad offered.

She gasped. “Oh no, I mean, you
were marvelous, but we couldn’t possibly expect you to…"

"I'm offering."

"But it would be so
embarrassing. You directing this humble production—"

"I'm not offering to direct.
I'm offering to be your Hamlet." He gave a flourishing bow that would have
been worthy of any Renaissance courtier.

 
She was stunned.
 
"Oh, no, we couldn't.
 
I mean, I’m supposed to be the director, and with you here, I’d look
like an idiot,” Zaira protested, trying to keep her distance from those
incredible emerald eyes.

“Not at all.
 
It would be a golden opportunity for
you to learn a few things, but I really do want to act.
 
I' m not offering because I want to
take over, I swear.
 
I'm not
finding fault. If I were, I would just come out and tell you.
 
But I think you’ve been doing really
well on your own.
 
I really do want
to act. I did it when I was younger, but then the directing took over, and
well…" He shrugged.
 

"Besides, the part of Hamlet
is something I've always wanted to take a stab at. If Mel Gibson can do it, and
even Big Arnie wanted to try, why not me? Besides, it would a be wonderful way
to meet people here in New York, and spend my spare time.”

“I'm
sure a man like you has no spare time—"

He put his hand on her
shoulder.
 
"the lady doth
protest too much, methinks. I really do want to do it. That is, if you'll let
me, Ms. Director.

She looked up at him for a time,
and at length she nodded. "All right, but you need to know we are having a
festival in two weeks, so it's all hands to the pumps.
 
If you really want this part, you need
to be reliable."

"I promise, you tell me when,
I'll be there and give it my all." He put his hand on his heart.

"All right, then, if you’re
sure, then I have no objection.
 
Anyone else want to try?” Zaira asked the company.
 

They all shook their heads,
stunned at the kind offer, and the immense talent they would have the privilege
of working with.

“Right then, I’ll see you all the
day after tomorrow,” Zaira said, and they all went backstage to change out of
their costumes.

When the room had cleared, she
said, "We’ll have to get you a costume, of course.
 
The one Peter ordered would barely
cover you,”
 
Zaira joked.

Then she blushed as she realized
her remark might seem flirtatious. She disguised her embarrassment by fishing
for her cell phone and ringing the costume company. He gave her his
measurements, which set her heart aflutter all over again, and she relayed them
to the woman taking her order.
 
Perhaps it was the heavy wig, but Zaira had never been more flustered in
her life.
 

When she ended the call, she
headed over to the small pair of tables they had set up as their work stations.

"Do you want a coffee?"

"Sure, thanks. Black."

She poured two cups from the pot
on the smaller of the two tables, and indicated he should sit in one of the
chairs at the larger one. She felt his eyes on her the whole time she moved
around the area.
 

She pushed his cup across the
table and sat herself.

“Right, then, Mr. Clarke, I’ve
got....” she glanced at her watch, “one hour, so let’s get down to it.
 
My publisher Matt Wolf tells me you
wish to buy my book’s rights, for a Hollywood film.
 
Quite frankly, I can’t imagine it as a film given the kinds
of actors who generate box office hits in this country.
 
Even if there were some able to capture
the characters fully, isn’t it a terribly radical departure from every film you
have ever made before?”

Brad smiled and nodded. He said
enthusiastically, “But you see, that's the whole point.
 
It’s a challenge, an opportunity to
break out of the old mould. I agree about the acting, I was thinking of heading
to Europe. Getting out of the same old groove, in order to do something really
meaningful. It's a profound love story on a number of levels which I think really
needs to be told. Above all, it’s your love story, for the period, the topic.
I've never read a book which jumps off the page like this and makes me feel as
though I'm right there, that I know the characters so well, their experiences
are mine too.”

 
Zaira grew more convinced of his sincerity with every word
she heard, but was still fearful of the Hollywood machine.
 
“Thank you for the compliments.
 
But the trouble is that even if you
love the book personally as much as you say you do, you're a director.
 
People give you money to make pictures,
and that gives them the right to tell you what to do. How do I know that rather
than quarrel with them, you won’t sell me and the book down the river by
changing it beyond all recognition?”

“Because for one thing I'm going
to put up my own money to back it, to show what faith I have in the project,
and to make sure that your very justifiable concerns are addressed. I don't
want anyone to interfere in this project, least of all my own studio.
  
I also plan to offer you a
contract with an out clause.
 
If
you disapprove of what we are doing, you can say so.”

“And who is we' supposed to
be?
 
What actors and actresses, no
doubt completely unsuitable, are you going to get?” she asked sharply, testing
him again.
 

“No, no, you’ve got it wrong, Zoe,
the 'we' is you and I.
 
I want you
to help me with the film, every step of the way, as consultant.”

“Very generous, as is your
financial offer and out clause.
 
What about the adaptation of the book into the screenplay?
 
How do I know you won’t completely ruin
it?”