To Be or Not To Be: The Actors Read online

  “All right,” he warned, picking up an armful of snowballs and walking toward her.

  “No,” Jenna shrieked, running away and trying to hide behind her fort.

  “Oh no, there’s no hiding. This is war.” Trevor bounded across the snow.

  She shrieked again and ran toward his fort, with Trevor close behind. She looked so happy and carefree, Trevor couldn’t get enough. She picked up an armful of snowballs and tossed them at Trevor just as he threw a few at her. They walked closer and closer until they were within arms’ distance, both pelting the other with snowballs. Jenna was laughing so hard she looked like she could barely catch her breath. Trevor threw one final snowball, and it snuck into the collar of her coat.

  “Oh, cold…” Jenna wiggled about, trying to remove the snow.

  Trevor frowned. Damn, he never should have let it go this far. He moved to help, but just as he did—bam! Jenna threw a whole armful of snowballs at him, pelting him on the chest, arms, and face.

  “Oh, you little brat.”

  Jenna ran and Trevor chased after her. It took only a moment for him to catch her. He grabbed her hand and swung her around. Momentum pushed her against his chest, and Trevor seized the moment. There, in the middle of Central Park, he wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her higher until she balanced on her tippy-toes and he moved her closer still, covering nearly her entire back with his one hand. Overcome, he let his other hand drop to the small of her back…inching its way down.

  He kept his hands still when she tensed, but then she gave over and her small hands wrapped around his waist, warming his back. It was so right to have Jenna in his arms—he was himself for the first time, ever. Here, with Jenna, he didn’t have to manufacture sex appeal; she wasn’t expecting him to be anything but himself. He didn’t have to walk a certain way, or smile a certain way. He could just be, and it was an incredibly freeing experience. He was finally with a woman who understood the difference between reality and fiction, and especially, between Trevor Hughes and Caspian Locke. No, he couldn’t and shouldn’t do this…he had never and would never cheat on Maggie, but still…this was a moment that couldn’t be denied. He knew, first hand, everything could end today, and if it did, he would be eternally sorry he hadn’t shared this minute with Jenna Joyce in the middle of Central Park.

  But then again, everything could end today.

  He dropped his hands, backing away from her. “I uh, I’m sorry.”

  Jenna turned her eyes down toward the snow. Her cheeks flushed a deep red color.

  “Jenna…” Oh, damn it. The last thing he wanted was for her to be embarrassed or feel bad. “I’m sorry, I should never have—”

  She put up her hand, stopping him. “No. I should never have come. It was a really, really bad idea. I’m sorry.” She began to walk off.

  “Jenna, wait.” Trevor called after her. “Let me take you to lunch. Please.”

  She turned to face him. “Thanks, Trevor; I appreciate it, but no.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll uh, I’ll see you in rehearsal.”

  She put up her hand, waving goodbye.

  “Jenna…”

  Trevor rubbed a searing pain in his gut as he watched her walk off.

  Chapter Eight

  Missing the opportunity to watch a movie with Trevor hurt way more than it should have. The only answer for Jenna was to drown herself in work; it was the healthiest and safest option she had. Thankfully, Don said they could meet for a Saturday night emergency session.

  Jenna arrived at Don’s theatre early, carrying a pan of homemade, low-cholesterol, salt-free, blonde brownies. Standing outside the black curtain leading to the theatre, she cocked her head, surprised to hear voices inside. It was odd for Don to coach on a Saturday night; most of his actors were performing on Broadway at that time.

  Clutching the brownies tightly, Jenna hesitated. She didn’t want to walk in on someone’s coaching session but as she stood there listening, her tummy clenched. She recognized the voice inside. With anger annihilating manners, Jenna pulled back the curtain and barged in. “Trevor?” Jenna blurted. “Why are you here?”

  Don turned to Jenna. “You’re early, Jenna. We will be finishing up in a few moments.” He held up his hand to her, leaning forward as he coughed.

  Damn it. Don’s cough was deeper. She peered at Trevor to see if he noticed it, too. His brow was furrowed; of course he noticed. She shook her head. No, Don was strong. He would be fine as long as she dragged him to the doctor first thing on Monday. But tonight…Jenna’s face scrunched into a scowl…tonight, she had to deal with Trevor.

  Still carrying her brownies and with all the grace of a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum, Jenna ignored Don’s words and marched onstage to confront Trevor. “Why? Why are you here? Are you following me?”

  Trevor turned to her, his gaze heavy on hers. “No, Jenna. I’m not following you. I study with Don, too.”

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Jenna turned to Don. “Why didn’t either of you tell me?” Hurt ricocheted through her like a ball bearing in a pinball game.

  “Because it wasn’t your business.” Don answered flatly.

  “What do you mean it wasn’t my business? This is my show, too.”

  “Yes. And Trevor is Hamlet. Trevor’s been my student for a very long time.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jenna turned to Trevor.

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “That’s convenient.” Jenna tossed the brownies onto a chair and threw her bag down. She stormed over to Trevor. “You, you…liar.”

  “Okay.” Trevor turned to Jenna, his chest heaving. His voice was sharp, echoing through the theatre.

  She took a tiny step backward.

  “Before you get so self-righteous, why don’t you tell me why you stormed off from the park this morning?”

  She glanced at Don then focused on Trevor, lifting her eyebrows. “You know why…” There was no way she wanted to get into this in front of Don.

  “Is it the boyfriend?”

  “What?”

  “Your boyfriend.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make sense of what he was saying, and then opened them, glaring at Trevor. “You think I would have been spending my Saturday playing in the park with you if I had a boyfriend?”

  “I just assumed.”

  “No. I don’t have a boyfriend.” She clenched her jaw. “You think because you have a girlfriend, I have to have a boyfriend? Does it lessen your guilt?”

  “No. It’s not about guilt. Maggie and I, there are things you don’t know—situations you don’t understand.”

  “Oh please.” She stepped back, rolling her eyes. “What, now you’re going to give me some lame story about how Maggie doesn’t understand you?”

  “Of course not. I take full responsibility for everything I do, but I never meant for Maggie and I to last as long as we have. I don’t love her, Jenna.”

  Butterflies raced around her stomach, and Jenna put a hand to her abdomen, trying to calm them. “Does she know that?”

  “I don’t know. But the fact is, you were there, too. With me, in the park. And if I hadn’t stopped us—”

  Jenna narrowed her eyes. “Nothing would have happened. I can promise you that.”

  “That’s not what I think.”

  “So maybe I had a momentary lapse in judgment. But nothing’s going to happen between us, I can promise you that.” She cocked her head, searching his eyes. “You should have told me you study with Don. I was right about you from the beginning. You—with this façade like you’re such a great guy but the truth is you’re a liar. You’re lying to Maggie and you’ve been lying to me.”

  Trevor stepped forward, grabbing her forearm. Her eyes widened.

  “I am not a liar. Maggie and I are in a complicated situation which you know nothing about. You want to know the real reason I didn’t tell you about Don? The real reason is because the only thing you have in your sad little life is your t
alent. And I know you hate me, and soap operas, and everything we stand for—commercialism, greed, lack of talent, no soul—so I tried to spare you the bitter truth. I study with Don because I have talent, too. And whatever this is you have”—Trevor ran his hand up and down the air—“This hatred for money and success, I think it’s because you don’t have either. And let me tell you something, Jenna; you think poverty proves you have a soul? Grow up and stop romanticizing failure. You think money makes me a sell-out? I have survived off my art, my craft, for a long time. You’ve only been at this for a year. One year. I’ve been at it for over a decade. Take it from me, eating Ramen noodles and peanut butter three times a day gets old fast. So forgive me for wanting more.”

  Jenna broke her arm free and took a large step back. “How dare you?” More than anything she wanted to quit the play. But she couldn’t. She needed the money desperately and she needed to prove she could be a success, just like she promised her father on his deathbed. “I understand if you want to fire me.” Jenna stood up tall as she addressed Trevor. “But I’d prefer you didn’t.” She turned to Don. “I’m sorry I interrupted. It was rude and unprofessional.”

  Don nodded.

  Jenna grabbed her bag and made her way to the curtain. Tears ached in her eyes. Good God, what had Trevor done to her? She fought back the tears, refusing to let them fall.

  “Jenna?” Trevor stood there with his hands out. “You don’t have to run away again.”

  “I’m not running away.” Jenna spoke through her teeth. Oh, screw this. She threw her bag down onto the floor and stormed back to Trevor. “I have never, ever run away, Trevor. Not from anything. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Then tell me.”

  Jenna wiped her nose with her sleeve, fighting to calm her breathing. “I follow through on every promise I make. But I didn’t promise you anything, except to be a damned good Ophelia. Just stay clear of me.”

  “Why?”

  “How about because of Maggie?”

  “Oh, screw Maggie.”

  “You do. That’s the problem.”

  Trevor turned away and back again. “I mean, pretend Maggie wasn’t in the picture. Tell me why you wouldn’t be with me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can’t, or you don’t want to?” Trevor crossed his arms over his wide chest. “Tell me you don’t get some kind of thrill out of Caspian Locke chasing after you while you hide your deep, dark secret?”

  He shook his head, walking away, and Jenna went after him.

  “Hey!”

  Trevor spun around to face her.

  Jenna’s head throbbed, and her heart raced. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Her voice was louder than she meant it to be. “I am a fully functioning person, and if I say something then that’s the way it is, whether you like it or not. I’m not a child, and I’m not playing games here. And as far as being thrilled Caspian Locke is chasing after me…one, I don’t think you’re chasing after me and two, I don’t give a damn about some made-up television character.” Jenna stepped closer; a wall of energy wedged between them. She lowered her voice. “I’ve never once thought of you as anyone except Trevor Hughes, and when we’re rehearsing, Hamlet. That’s it.” Jenna drew in a deep breath, hurt radiating through her. “This is your own insecurity you’re dumping on me. And as far as the rest of it, you don’t have to like the way I live, or the way I eat, or anything about me. I’m not here for you to fix, Trevor. I just am. And screw you if you don’t like me.”

  Jenna was interrupted by the sound of Don clapping. She turned to him, startled.

  “Oh, Jenna, Jenna, Jenna.”

  She stood on the stage, staring at Don, trying to slow her panting. Her heart sprinted. She could feel Trevor’s gaze burrowing into the side of her head, but she didn’t care. She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting to calm down.

  “I’m happy to see this fire exists in you. Finally.” Don held his cane in one hand and lifted it up toward the heavens. “I guess all it took to unlock it was this handsome young man.”

  Jenna’s cheeks burned, her feet glued to the floor.

  Don smiled at her. “For God’s sake, Jenna, now find this passion in your work.”

  “But that’s the only place I have passion.”

  “No, that’s the only place you let yourself feel feelings. But this is the first time I’ve seen genuine passion in you.” Don turned to Trevor. “In either of you.” Don shifted so he could speak to both of them at once. “Trevor, Jenna…you are both excellent young actors. And Trevor, you’ll take any risk thrown at you but you’ve spent so many years playing one particular character, you’ve forgotten what reality is. Until now.”

  Don smiled and went on. “And Jenna. Sweet Jenna.” Don motioned for her to walk to the center of the stage, next to Trevor. She did. “You are such a good actor, with such a guarded heart, except when it comes to me. You have done so much for me—cooking, straightening my apartment, transcribing my notes, worrying about me through this blasted cold.” He shook his fist to heaven, doing his classic King Lear.

  “I like to do it.”

  “Yes, and you do a wonderful job of taking care of me. But don’t you think it’s time all that exceptional love you have locked away in your heart was given to someone else?”

  Jenna opened her mouth to speak, but Don put up his hand.

  “Not me, Jenna. I’m an old, old, man. And we have been there for each other—each helping the other in those times we’ve missed the great loves of our lives. But your great love was filial love, Jenna. And now it’s time for you to find your real love. You need to let go. You’re terrified to go too far, in your work and your life.”

  Jenna gasped.

  “Am I wrong?”

  She shook her head.

  It took some time but Don pulled a wallet from his hip pocket. “Come, come.” He opened the faded brown leather wallet and turned to a picture, equally faded. “My Evelyn.”

  Jenna had seen the picture many times before but she was happy to see it again.

  “She was my reason for living.”

  “But all those years you lived for your art.”

  “No, Jenna. I lived for her. And she lived for me. Yes, I had passion in my art, but only because of her.” Don slid his finger down the picture gently, as if he were caressing her cheek. “When she passed, I thought I had lost my reason for living. Then I turned to Trevor, and you, and a few more of my favorite students, and I figured I could teach you, not how to act—you know that—but how to feel.”

  Jenna shifted her weight from foot to foot and glanced at Trevor. He stood perfectly still, hanging on Don’s every word.

  “But I was wrong. You can’t teach someone to feel, you can only tell them it’s okay to do so.” Don turned his still brilliantly sharp blue eyes to Trevor and Jenna, and then he whistled. “Evelyn and I, we loved each other passionately and completely. Some days she drove me crazy, and sometimes I drove her nuts, but at the end of the day, we always came home to each other. It wasn’t always easy—no, not by any means. I think one of the most trying times of our lives was early on when I played Hamlet and she played Ophelia. What I saw tonight were two people who care more about each other than they want to admit. Whether you explore this in your real lives or only on the stage is up to you. But I saw passion in both of you tonight—passion for your art, and passion for each other.”

  Don rearranged himself and coughed louder and longer.

  Jenna grabbed his water and offered it to him.

  He shook his head while his eyes smiled at her. “I will give you both a word or two of unsolicited advice…be nice to each other. When it comes down to it, you need each other on that stage. You support one another and feed off each other. Be someone the other person can rely on onstage, and in real life, too. And one more thing.” Don took them each by the hand. “I am giving you permission to feel. Be passionate. Fight, love, live your lives. Believe me, it goes so much faster tha
n you could ever imagine.” He smiled. “Ernest Hemingway…” He shook his head. “He understood. Trust each other.”

  Trevor shifted toward Jenna, but she looked away.

  Don dropped their hands and continued. “It’s Saturday night, for God’s sake. Go make love. And if you’re not making love then at the very least, take a break.”

  Jenna’s cheeks flushed, and she glanced at Trevor who stared at the theatre floor. His gaze found hers and she looked away.

  Don shook his head at them, smiling. “Head over to the coffee shop. Have a bite. Hamlet and Ophelia have been around for hundreds of years. They’ll still be here tomorrow.”

  ****

  “What do you think?” Trevor asked as they stood on the street corner. All he wanted to do was to hold Jenna and make everything right but he couldn’t. He was incredibly sorry for the rude things he said, and if she gave him the chance, he was certain he could make it up to her. As she stood there shivering on the sidewalk, he knew he had been a bully. He had berated her to prove his own worth and because of his own insecurities. She really never said a bad word about his soap opera; it was all in his head, and he had no idea she imagined he was trying to change her. That was the very opposite of the truth. He liked her exactly as she was.

  “I think it’s late.”

  “Jenna.” He reached out and took her hand, thrilled she didn’t pull away. “Let’s go get some coffee. Please. Let me get you something to eat.” He was certain she was about to say yes, when some tourists spotted him.

  “Caspian!” A woman shouted to him as a group of six middle-aged women approached Trevor. They were dressed similarly, in brightly colored car-length coats, with dress pants and sensible boots. One was blonder than the next, and each had sprayed her hair into a perfectly coiffed shoulder-length bob. Not a single hair on any one head moved when the women did.

  “It’s Caspian Locke!” shouted another.

  They surrounded Trevor, nudging Jenna out of the way as they pulled their cell phones from their designer bags. They linked arms with him, one on each side, and he forced smile after smile as they snapped selfies with him.