The Home For Wayward Ladies (23 page)

Frank laughs, although it is unclear whether or not he understands. “It’s too bad it’s not your job to make jokes, funny man. And it’s too bad that you don’t have the sense to not go poking your head around trying to figure out how much bread you’re getting to put up with our clan. I got a deal for you…” He pulls a thick envelope from the pocket of his torn jeans. “There’s a thousand dollars here says you make up some pretty dances. If Vicki gets by the critics tear-free, there’s another thousand dollars coming your way.”

My principles force my mouth open so that I may object. “My pay should not be commensurate upon the reception of my work. That is not the professional standard.” 

“And it’s not our standard to act professional. Take it or leave it, Dance Boy. Think of it this way- it’s like putting a wager on your talent. If you’re as good as Mandy says you are, you got nothing to worry about. And if you’re not, then I take the other thousand dollars to Atlantic City and ride it all on black.”

His right hand is balled into a fist so that I’m compelled to agree. Even if Vicki does not achieve the reviews her husband thinks she deserves, that first thousand dollars will still be mine. One thousand dollars is better than no thousand dollars. “Alright, Frank- but I’m going to need that in writing.”

“The Vallenzino’s don’t do ‘in writing.’ We shake a man’s hand when we strike a deal. You are a man, aren’t you?”

I give my hand to Frank and match the power of his grip to prove I’m more than just a Lady. There are many times when forced femininity is becoming; this is not one. Frank sucks rotten air through the crack in his equally rotten teeth and hands the envelope my way. I refuse to look him in the eye as I stuff it in my back pocket and push back onto the stage.

“Where the hell have you been?” Eli says, fixing himself a bagel with far too much cream cheese.

“Where the hell have I been? Where the hell have
you
been? Frank Vallenzino just forced me to agree to the worst decision made in the entertainment industry since
Grease 2
.”

“Hunter, don’t be cruel. That movie introduced us to the beauty of Maxwell Caulfield and constitutes 75% of Lorna Luft’s film career. Tell Mama- what did big scary Frank do that got your knickers in a twist?”

“That monster held me prisoner in a dressing room that smelled like regurgitated afterbirth and informed me that I shall receive only half of my intended wages unless I can teach Vicki how to dance her way out of a paper bag.” Mandy tries to call the rowdy room to order. When she does, Vicki is startled and trips over the base of a music stand, catching herself mere inches before her teeth bash into an upright piano.

Not surprisingly, Eli laughs. “Good luck, Lady. It looks like you’re going to need it.” He abandons me and saunters to the circle that’s forming near the apron of the stage. There is no humility whatsoever in his stance. His head is held upright as if to balance the weight of his crown. 

Mandy interrupts my solitude. She claps her hands while shouting, a favorite pastime of every stage manager I have ever known. “Gather ‘round, folks. The breakfast buffet will be here all morning, I promise.” The majority of the group smiles politely, but not Mr. Vallenzino and son. They appear so morose that I envision how their mug shots will look when they’re featured on the evening news after my body can’t be found.

Mandy’s muscular legs garner the men’s unwanted attention. She is wearing the same daisy dukes we saw her in yesterday. A decent length of pocket exposed below the fray. The rest of her strapping frame is encased in flannel. She has a particular way of using her toned bulk to command the room. Now that I have money riding on it, I only hope our actors are capable of doing the same.

“We’re still missing one from the cast, but I want to stick to the schedule. Let’s get things underway. Welcome to the first rehearsal of our new musical revue
I’ll Take Manhattan
.” I initiate a round of applause and some others enthusiastically join in. Mandy abstains, choosing instead to look at her watch and document how much time she has lost to the interruption. She says, pushing forward, “Why don’t we go around the room and introduce ourselves? Say your name and a fun fact about yourself. I’ll start. I’m Mandy Olsen, stage manager. Fun fact: some day, I hope to launch a professional female rugby league.” No one looks the least bit surprised.

Mr. Vallenzino is next. “Teddy Vallenzino here. I own the joint.” He pauses to massage his jowls. “My fun fact is that I’m married to the most talented woman in the room. This show should really knock ‘em dead if the rest of you stay out of her way.” I chortle before I realize he wasn’t joking. The way that Vicki is draped on that ogre’s shoulder gives me the impression that she can’t support the weight of her surgically amplified chest. She dutifully kisses his cheek before speaking in a voice whose timbre is that of brakes on a bicycle, only far less soothing.

“I’m sure you all could guess, but for those of you who ain’t got smarts, I’m Vicki Vallenzino- or, as my husband put it, the most talented woman in the room.” She preens like a peacock while those obligated play along with snickers and smiles. “Go on, Frank,” she nudges, “it’s your turn.” 

“No it isn’t,” he says, “You didn’t tell no one a fun fact yet, Vix. Tell the people what it is that makes you special.”

She giggles. “Wouldja look at me? I’m not working from a script and I still don’t know my lines. A fun fact about what makes me special? Let me see…” Vicki takes a long while to consider how special she truly is before coming up with a thought - likely, her first in ages. “I got a fact! Actually, this one’s sort of like a secret. You’d never believe it, but I never had a single lesson. My talent is au naturale.”

Heaven help us, but when compared to Vicki Vallenzino, Frankenstein’s monster was more “naturale.” Sure, she looks quite good for her age, but no one would dare challenge that her hair color is from a bottle, her tan is from a lightbulb, and her décolletage was designed by the Michelin Man.

When it’s Frank’s turn, I remember what I had been taught about the perils of making direct eye contact with a hostile animal. Instead, I choose to look at the floor. Anyway, creatures like him do better hiding in the shadows; take Jack the Ripper for example. “I’m Frank and I run this place for my Pops. If there’s something I can do to make your stay more comfortable, tell me and I’ll get around to it before the show closes. My fun fact is that I like talking in public as much as I like sitting through an evening at the theater. Now, who the hell is next?”

“That would be me! Hello, everybody. I’m Mickey Peterson.” This young gentlemen seems to be acutely unaware of how adorable he is, which makes him just my type. Not a day older than twenty-seven, I admire the way he maintains his mop of curly hair and winning smile. He continues, “I’ll be playing Man #1 opposite the most talented woman in the room. She and I did
Sugar Babies
together last year. Come over here and give me a hug, you minx.” Mr. Vallenzino shoots a look to stop Mickey from getting anywhere near his COD bride. Vicki, as oblivious as ever, gives Mickey a sloppy smooch that leaves behind the residue of her Shimmer Berry lipstick by Dior. “And my fun fact- as an actor, I have played seventeen different nationalities but have never left the good ol’ U.S. of A. Isn’t that wild?” His irrepressible high-spirits in combination with his impeccable body fat ratio make me want to show him the world.

“I guess that means I’m next,” says the plainest of Janes to Mickey’s left. “I’m Carolyn Wilder, Girl #2. I guess by default I’m the second most talented woman in the room. My fun fact is only going to be fun for eight more months— I’m pregnant.” Vicki makes a further spectacle of herself by cooing and clucking at the fetus within. Carolyn rubs her belly when she turns to Eli. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Mr. Director. I promise I won’t start showing until the end of the run.”

“What wonderful news, Carolyn. Congratulations.” Eli is beaming like there is a chance the child might be named after him. “We’ll make your costumes with elastic in all the places that you anticipate will expand.” We all force ourselves to laugh while Eli affects a businesslike composure. He talks with such decision that I understand what Squeaky Fromme saw in Charles Manson. “Hello to one and all. I’m Eli Bodner-Shultz, the director of this skit. From here on out, all creativity is welcome. My aim is for us to make a world together where the audience should want to live…”

As he prattles on about his artistic vision for the show, my eyes gloss over. I hate these stupid circles. If there was a fun fact about me worth sharing, I’d rather save it for an interview with James Lipton. I dig deep within to search for something anecdotal that will make people want to carry me through town on a chair (Mr. Vallenzino and his minion are the notable exception. Like my chances of ever seducing a woman, those two are already a lost cause.)


Everyone’s eyes are focused on me by the time I realize Eli has stopped talking. I purse my lips to state my name. I don’t have the chance to make a sound before I am cut off by a booming voice that comes from the back of the house.

“How I love the first day of rehearsal- everyone gathered around trying to learn each other’s dirty little secrets.” The fur coat that this man is wearing is of indeterminate species. And, judging by the heat, I’m sure that whatever animal was murdered for it was only too happy to be released from the seasonal burden. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Robin Cambridge. I live up in the big house on the hill, but for the next six weeks, I’ll be slumming it here with you.” He tears his rhinestone cat-eye sunglasses from his age-defying face and saunters toward the group. “But before we begin, I beg to discuss the most important order of business— where’s the fucking coffee?”

28

NICK

I stand naked in front of my closet so long that my pubes start to grow back in. Determining what to wear to my lunch meeting with my agent Carter Harrigan is like an analogy on the SATs- there are plenty of answers that look right, but only one that’s going to score points.

My concentration is shattered when Danny catcalls, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “If I had your ass, I would go just as you are.”

“You have had my ass and I don’t recall any complaints.”

“Nor will you ever. Although I’m worried that my dick might be allergic- every time your ass bounces on it, it can’t help but sneeze.”

I stand over him in bed and kiss him with no regard for the fact that he hasn’t yet brushed his teeth. With his hand raised over his head, I can smell his armpit. It’s a blend of musk and day-old deodorant that instantly gets me hard. He notices and does not resist. When he takes me in his mouth, I can’t stop churning. His warm wetness makes me arch my back like I know how to do yoga. And when I feel his finger press inside me two knuckles deep, it’s impossible not to moan. After yesterday, I figure I’ll be shooting blanks for at least a week. When I feel myself cum, it’s impossible to tell how much. Danny swallows without letting go.

I excuse myself to the bathroom and pretend I don’t see Danny conspicuously sniffing the finger that was just inside me. I call for him to follow. “If you want me to return the favor, you’re going to have to wash your sack. You’ll need a shower anyway if you plan to come to this meeting with Harrigan.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there.”

I turn on the water and wait for icicles to become lava. “Why wouldn’t I want you there? You’re producing this tour. Anyway, I’m sure Mr. Harrigan is expecting you.”

Danny scratches his groin as he enters the bathroom. It makes his schmekel swing like a pendulum. “Babe, I think it’s best that I put in some time at the office rather than hold your hand through the signing of some simple documents. A better part of my week has been eaten up by moving here and I need to get back in the groove.” When he turns on the sink, the Amityville Shower runs scalding. I wince as I dodge the stream. He’s a little hard to understand with a toothbrush in his mouth, but us Ladies can interpret a man who’s got his mouth full. “There are a few shows coming in this season that I might want to take a piece of. That means I have to determine if I’m capable of raising the funds before I can commit. Anyway, you’re a big boy- you can handle Harrigan.” He spits. “I know for a fact that he thinks you’re as charming as I do.”

Danny has never declined to spend time by my side before. His betrayal leaves me no choice but to take the low road. I mouth obscenities at him into a bottle of shampoo. “Daaanny,” I whine, “I neeeeed you there. Harrigan is bringing an entire dossier full of shit to sign that I’m not smart enough to understand. Let’s keep in mind my conservatory education; their philosophy on teaching us the business of the business was, ‘It’s complicated. Look pretty and keep tap dancing, you idiot.’”

“Nick, I’ve already reviewed the documents. They’re entirely standard. Just pretend to read them and sign wherever his assistant marked with a Post-It flag. He didn’t put in a clause asking for our firstborn.”