I spun on my heel and marched back toward the stage. Seriously. Who did he think he was? Being part of a show was all about being part of a team. Ensemble building, as Heidi would have said. We all needed to work together. And honestly, if we didn’t clean this all up, who would have? At the end of the day, this was our show. Our space. We were responsible for it. Except someone clearly wanted no part of teamwork or responsibility. What a lazy jerk. Although not quite as lazy as Nevin, who emerged from behind the archways as Langley marched toward the dumpsters, trash bag slung over her shoulder like the Santa Claus of garbage.
I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at Nevin. He held a canvas tote bag that undoubtedly contained something torturous.
“Obstacles to great art are innumerable and often unforeseen.” Nevin stroked his goatee meditatively. “And often times unpleasant. Well done clearing the hurdle before you,” he said approvingly, as if this had been some sort of theater challenge. Despite my impassioned speech to Drew about cleaning up shit, I was really not pleased with the whole situation. Nevin, unfortunately, seemed impervious to my usually effective death glare. I glanced over at Amy, who seemed on the verge of tears and kept furtively sniffing herself, trying to detect if any of the trash odors had settled on her.
Langley returned, garbage disposed of. “Time to hand ’em out, chief?” she asked Nevin.
“What did I tell you about ‘chief’?” Nevin muttered in a threatening undertone. “And yes, Langley,” he said at full volume, “you may hand the women their corsets.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” From the look on his face, Nevin seemed to like cap’n even less than chief.
“Cor-whats?” I asked.
“Ooo!” Amy clapped her hands with delight as Langley pulled out a white satin brocade corset with thick straps and a faint flower pattern. Small hooks and eyes marched up the front and nylon laces crisscrossed the back. Amy eagerly reached out for it as Langley handed it to her.
“Okay now.” Heidi held up her hands. “Let’s just take a minute now, shall we, before we force our natural bodies into these unnatural shapes? This—this garment,” she said disdainfully, “represents centuries of the subjugation of women. It represents female enslavement at the hands of the male gaze. It represents everything our mothers, and their mothers, and their mothers and sisters, have fought to free us from—”
“Forget about subjugation, that just looks really uncomfortable,” I interrupted as Langley held out a red brocade corset in my general direction. Red. Again. Shocker. “Why do we have to wear those?”
“Rehearsal corsets are necessary to give you the proper posture and bearing of a woman of Shakespeare’s time,” Nevin said evenly. “They’re not optional. They will inform your characters.”
“This confinement will inform our inner characters,” Heidi said sadly. “Inform them in incarceration.”
“A woman of Shakespeare’s time wouldn’t have known that,” Nevin said.
“A woman of Shakespeare’s time wouldn’t have been onstage,” I countered. “What’s with the sudden concern for historical accuracy?”
“Won’t you stop whining and put on the damn thing?” Drew groused.
“I don’t see you having to spend a summer without breathing!” I retorted. “I bet you’d whine, too!”
“We’re wasting rehearsal time,” Drew said shortly.
Sulkily, I snatched the red corset out of Langley’s hands. I turned it over, looking at the tag. It read: TARTE TATIN TEMPTATIONS. Historical accuracy my ass. This was a Halloween costume or some kind of weird sex underwear.
“Just put yourself in the mindset of a woman in the late sixteenth century,” Nevin said soothingly to Heidi. “You wouldn’t have known anything else. This is your life.”
“For historical accuracy?” Heidi cocked her head. Nevin nodded. “Oh, process. Fine, for historical accuracy,” she sighed, and held out her hands. Langley gave her a corset just like mine and Amy’s, but in purple. “Forgive me, sisters”—Heidi shook her head as she held it up—“for they know not what they do.”
Drew rolled his eyes. “Can we do something now? Like rehearse, maybe?”
“In good time,” Nevin said. “Langley, help the ladies, please.”
We loosened our laces and undid the hooks. I pulled the corset over my tank top like a vest, eyes lingering on the dark smudge of Taylor’s name that a shower hadn’t quite erased, and did up the hooks in the front.
Was I really going to find him? “Taylor Griffith, Segunki Cabin” had been blazed into my brain, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about wandering into a rando camp to stalk down a man. That seemed like behavior more befitting of … Heather. I was no predatory blonde. I tossed my head, resolute. If he wanted me, he could come find me.
We formed a little corset train. Amy laced up Heidi’s, I laced up Amy’s, and Langley laced up mine. With each yank of the nylon strings, I could feel my lungs collapsing.
“How are we supposed to breathe in these?” I gasped. “Breathing’s kind of important when you’re acting. Because you’re, you know, talking and stuff.”
“It’ll force you to use your diaphragm,” Nevin retorted. “Tighter, Langley.”
“Oh, sure, lungs are overrated,” I grumbled, unconsciously yanking Amy’s strings a little tighter than was necessary. She yelped.
Nevin marched up and down the line, commanding us to pull tighter. I could hear Heidi whimpering softly at the front.
“Tighter, Cass,” he ordered.
“Isn’t this tight enough?” I exclaimed, pointing to the sides of Amy’s corset. “These bitches are straight up meeting.”
“Adequate,” he nodded. Really, there was nowhere else for that corset to go! That was as tight as it got. The pale yellow cotton of her sundress was all bunched up, and her shoulder blades looked uncomfortably close together. “Tie them up. That’s good enough.”
I tied Amy’s strings in a sloppy bow and tucked the extra length inside her corset. Corsets are weird. They are not sexy. Sure, they push up your boobs and make your waist look smaller, but that extra waist has to go somewhere. You end up with a weird blob of back fat and all of your displaced waist shooting out under the corset. It doesn’t matter how skinny you are, it just happens. And it’s gross. Luckily, Langley then pulled three long, black rehearsal skirts out of Nevin’s canvas bag, which covered the corset-produced muffin top hanging out over my shorts.
“So, what do the boys have to wear?” I asked once I’d pulled my skirt over my head.
“Boots, but we won’t need those until we get closer to opening,” Nevin said. “They’re fine for now.”
“Can you help me muster up a little feminist outrage here?” I asked Heidi.
“I am a woman of my times,” Heidi muttered, like a mantra. “It is fifteen ninety-four and I know naught but what I know.”
“Thanks for your help,” I sighed.
“Now that the ladies are finished discussing their wardrobe, can we start?” Drew raised his hand. Ugh, that smug, patronizing—
“I couldn’t agree more,” Nevin said. “Actors, to the stage.”
Nevin and Langley retreated to the small tent where they sat behind a table, Langley’s binder opened before her, poised to take notes. Everyone but Drew was in the first scene, so he had to sit backstage all alone. Too bad for him.
Noah entered, and Nevin spent a long time going over his monologue about why he was new in Padua and what he was doing there. Then everyone else entered, Heidi explaining why no one could marry Amy until someone married me, and we were off with a bang.
Early rehearsals often have more to do with traffic patterns than with acting. Nevin was mostly concerned with blocking the first few scenes, making sure everyone knew where they were going and that no one ran into each other. Once we’d blocked the first fifteen pages, we went through them several times, focusing more on the relationships between the characters and the language of the text. I was having such a good time I almost forgot
about the sharp pain in my ribcage. By the time we broke for lunch, it had subsided into a dull ache.
“Are we supposed to eat in these?” I asked Langley skeptically as the group started moving toward the Bait ’n’ Bite.
“You don’t have enough time to get in and out. It’s too much of a pain in the ass. I’m certainly not following you around playing wardrobe assistant,” she replied.
“You know what else is a pain in the ass? Going out in public dressed like this,” I muttered.
“Come on, they’re not that bad,” Amy said consolingly as she swiped on some lip gloss. “They’re kind of pretty!”
“Pretty embarrassing,” I replied. “I hope those skaters aren’t there.”
“Why not?” Amy asked, surprised. “I was hoping they would be! Hello, cleavage city!”
“I don’t want them to think we dressed this way intentionally! We look like Goth girls going to the prom.”
“We look like imprisoned sisters of an unenlightened age,” Heidi chimed in.
Amy rolled her eyes good-naturedly and looped her arms through mine and Heidi’s, like we were in The Wizard of Oz. “I think we look hot,” she said, smiling. “So, Cass, did you track down Taylor like he asked?”
“What, was I supposed to climb out the window last night?” I laughed. “If he wants me so badly, he can come find me.” I tossed my head, shaking my hair back from my face. Mm-hmm. Miss Independent. That’s me.
“He certainly seems to have left his mark on you,” Amy said with a twinkle.
“Literally,” Heidi added dryly, rubbing the grayish smudge on my arm where he’d written his name.
My heart sped up a bit as we approached the Bait ’n’ Bite, but there was not a skater to be seen on its faded porch. No. Bad Cass, I reprimanded myself. I was not going to let myself get all freaked out about some guy. Because no guy was worth that. Even one as hot as Taylor Griffith.
“The vegetarian options in the Bait ’n’ Bite are sadly lacking,” Heidi said once she’d ordered her LT sandwich.
“Maybe this’ll be the summer you turn carnivore.” I grinned. “Extra bacon on mine, please,” I told the bored high schooler behind the deli counter who was eyeing our corsets strangely. Heidi shook her head and glared with exaggerated disapproval.
After collecting our sandwiches, we headed back to the shore of the lake, forming a little circle to eat lunch in. I lowered myself awkwardly to a sitting position. That stupid corset made even basic movement difficult.
I don’t think I had ever in my life not finished a sandwich before, but it felt like my stomach had evaporated along with my waist. I wrapped the rest up to eat later and dropped it in my bag. Heidi had been right—this corset was an unholy prison. I would mow that sandwich the minute I was free.
CHAPTER 8
Lunch break was criminally short, and before I knew it, Langley was herding us back to rehearsal. We spent the first part of the afternoon blocking further into the play, preparing for a later run of what we’d done so far.
Several hours later, when it was time to do the run, I followed the rest of the cast onstage and looked out over the field, surprised to see Taylor Griffith and the skaters sitting on top of a picnic table in the middle of the town square. If I’d expected anyone to come see this sloppy first run, it was Lola St. Clair—who had apparently disappeared—not the skater boy brigade. I pinched Amy surreptitiously, and she elbowed me back in response.
I hadn’t known it was possible for anyone to look sexy while eating a giant bag of Cheetos and chugging Red Bull, but damn, that boy looked good. He and the others sat on the picnic table and watched us for most of the run. I could see Nevin glancing over at them agitatedly the entire time, but since they weren’t technically in his rehearsal space, he couldn’t get up and yell at them. Needless to say, it was not my best work. It was all a little bit distracting. Particularly when Taylor decided to take off his shirt.
Unfortunately, by the time we finished the run, wrote down Nevin’s notes, packed up our things, and helped Langley clean up the rehearsal space, the skaters were long gone. But I was far too excited about my liberation to be upset by their absence. I ripped the corset off and breathed deeply. Ah, bliss. I dug through my bag like a rabid badger and shoved my sandwich in my mouth.
“Hungry?” Drew smirked.
“Shmmeruppf oddint aff wrrr corsh odunnoow!” I hissed through a mouthful of sandwich.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Though art more lovely and more temperate!” Drew quoted sarcastically and strode away.
“He is so annoying!” I thundered once I’d swallowed.
“Don’t pay any attention to him. You are perfectly lovely. And you let your appetite be free!” Heidi said fiercely. “Appetite for life, appetite for food. Society tells us we women should deny ourselves, but it is time to be hungry! Hungry for everything!”
“Don’t worry, I won’t let that asshat ruin my sandwich,” I vowed as I swallowed my last bite and crumpled the wrappings into a ball.
“Should we go back to the house?” Amy asked somewhat breathlessly. I looked up from my sandwich wrappings ball. Whoa. She was glowing like she was lit from within. I’d never before seen someone whose eyes were literally sparkling.
We quickly walked back to the boathouse and the group dispersed, wandering to the kitchen or the lounge. Noah invited us all to join him on a run, but everyone demurred. Fitness. Meh.
Amy always had a bit of the Disney Princess thing going on, but right then she was especially out of control. Her walk back to the boathouse had been more of a skip. She kept humming and sighing at random intervals, gazing dreamily into the distance. Something was up.
“All right, Cinderella,” I asked once the three of us had made it safely into our room and I shut the door behind. “What’s up? I’m half expecting you to burst into song and for cartoon birds to alight on your fingertips.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.” She giggled. “Oh, Connor breaking up with me was the best thing that ever happened to me. I think”—she blushed, eyes shining— “I think … I think I’m in love!”
“Love!” Heidi clasped her hands to her chest with delight.
“Love?” Oh, brother. “While I am completely thrilled that you’re over Douchey McTexterson, I think it would be in your best interest if you dialed it down like five hundred notches.”
“Oh, psshh, don’t listen to her.” Heidi waved one of her giant elegant hands in my face. “There’s nothing more beautiful than falling with an open heart.”
“Emphasis on falling,” I muttered. “When did this start? When we saw the skate guys at the Bait ’n’ Bite? They looked good today, tanning on the picnic tables.”
“No, no.” Amy shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong, the Prince of Norway is super hot and everything, but, um … no … it was at rehearsal …”
“Ohhh.” Heidi’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Noah is really nice, isn’t he?”
“As nice as a guy can be, I guess,” I shrugged. “And damn if he doesn’t have that sexy cowboy thing going on.”
Heidi nodded enthusiastically.
“Wait—what?” Amy crinkled her nose and blushed. “No, no, it’s not Noah. He’s really nice, and he’s cute, and all, but it’s—it’s Drew,” she sighed, blushing harder.
“Oh,” Heidi said, her voice wavering as she tried to smile.
“No,” I said flatly. “No, no, and no. Absolutely not.”
“Wait—what—why?” Amy’s lip wobbled dangerously.
“Did you even talk to him?” I asked.
“Yes! Well, sort of,” she hedged. “I’m not sure it counted as a conversation, exactly, but words were exchanged, so I think that—”
“No. Not a Drew,” I said firmly. “Anything but that. Not a Drew!”
“What do you mean, ‘a Drew’?” Heidi asked.
“Yeah. What’s ‘a Drew’?” Amy chimed in.
“A Drew, a Drew—you know! A Drew!�
�� I said emphatically. “You know the type.” The girls stared at me blankly. I heaved an almighty sigh. “Seriously? Were you doing theater under a rock?”
“Under a Boulder,” Heidi said, poker-faced. “Boulder, Colorado.”
Amy giggled.
“Guys, focus.” Now was not the time to be distracted by location-based puns. “A Drew is a guy who’s always been the only moderately cute, straight, single guy in every drama club, musical, or play. He’s the guy who’s always had all the girls fighting over him, just because there aren’t any other options. He’s the one who gets the lead in everything, just because there are fifteen girls for every guy auditioning. It’s not fair! They don’t have to try, those Drews of the world! They don’t have to work for anything! They just get whatever they want and they think they deserve it, which results in the most arrogant, obnoxious, entitled assholes the world has ever known!”
The girls were staring at me.
“Maybe it’s time for a cleansing breath?” Heidi suggested.
“He’s not an arrogant, obnoxious a-hole!” Amy said, sniffling slightly. “He’s complicated. And intense. And—and passionate.”
I don’t know what the eff Mrs. Potts was singing about, but this is the tale as old as time. Nice girl falls for angry asshole and convinces herself he’s just “intense” and “complicated,” when really he’s just a mean jackass.
“Passionate is just a nice way of saying psychotic!” I continued. “Did you guys read Wuthering Heights in school?”
“So romantic,” Amy sighed, as Heidi nodded. “Oh, Drew is just like Heathcliff!” Amy clapped her hands with delight. “So brooding!”
“My point exactly!” I crowed with triumph. “Heathcliff is not romantic. He’s insane. He’s a certifiable psychopath! He hanged a dog. Hanged a dog, Amy!”
The Taming of the Drew Page 7
