Broken Juliet (14 page)

We’re second-years now, and so far, we haven’t been cast in anything together. I think Erika has given up trying to mediate.

And so Ethan and I orbit each other. Get on with things. Learn the art of pretending. Hone our craft to lie to others as skillfully as we lie to ourselves.

And every morning, the first thing that goes through my brain when I see him is, “I’m fine.”

Erika leans on her desk.

“This term’s acting assignment focuses on passion. Romantic, sexual, suppressed, violent, artistic. I’ll be assigning each of you excerpts designed to confront and challenge you. Some of the material will make you uncomfortable. Turn those feelings into something you can use. A lot of the plays are controversial and contain issues of a sensitive nature. I expect you to handle it with maturity. Mr. Avery, please note, I’m looking at you.”

Jack gives his best “Who, me?” expression, and everyone laughs.

“You’ll have four weeks to rehearse and will present your pieces the week before Presidents’ Day weekend. Questions?”

Jack puts up his hand.

“Mr. Avery?”

“Please say you’ve given me something from
Equus
. I’ve always had a thing for horses.”

People laugh.

“As a matter of fact, no. You’ll be performing with Aiyah in a little piece called
Soft Targets
. It’s quite controversial, sexually.”

Jack rubs his hands together. “Ooh, tell me more.”

Erika suppress her grin. “It’s about men who enjoy having their female lovers sodomize them with monster strap-ons.”

Jack’s face drops. “What?”

Erika hands out the group lists as Jack turns to Lucas and says in a whiny voice, “She’s joking, right? That was a joke?”

I take the list and skim it to find my name.

The Killing of Sister George

Cassie—Sister George. Chain-smoking alcoholic lesbian. Ex-soap opera actor. Psychologically sadistic.

Miranda—George’s lover, Childie. Passive. Simple.

The character description makes me nervous. I like to think I can rise to a challenge, but this character is so far out of my wheelhouse, I have doubts I can pull it off.

I look through the list of the other plays. They all have an element of the shocking or taboo. It turns out Erika wasn’t joking about Jack’s excerpt. He’ll be playing a married businessman who pays a Dominatrix to regularly spank, degrade, and sodomize him. When I look over at Jack, he’s a little green. Aiyah, on the other hand, is grinning with sadistic glee. She often tells Avery how much she wants to smack him. Now she’s going to get her chance.

Miranda, Troy, and Angela are doing something called
Picture Windows
, in which people fall in love with inanimate objects. Lucas and Zoe are doing
Unwrap Me
, a play examining a married couple who enjoys cross-dressing, and Holt has been cast with Connor in …

I almost laugh out loud. It’s bad enough that Erika cast two guys who hate each other in the same play, but to make matters worse,
Enemy Inside
is a touching love story about a gay soldier coming to terms with his homosexuality.

Oh, my.

Connor is playing the closeted gay soldier. Ethan is the experienced and caring love interest who convinces him that loving another man isn’t a sin.

My, oh, my.

I find the concept vaguely arousing. In reality, I think the likelihood of Ethan pulling off a character who’s loving and patient is a major stretch. Also, he regularly glares at Connor like he wants to pummel him. Trying to convince an audience he’s attracted to him? Erika couldn’t have come up with a more difficult challenge.

I glance over at him. He’s frowning down at the piece of paper like he can make it say something different if he just concentrates hard enough.

A sharp laugh bubbles out of me. He looks up and scowls, so I suck the inside of my cheeks to stop myself.

Oh, this term is going to be fun.

Erika rubs her forehead and sighs. “Miss Taylor, you have to stop laughing. We’re wasting time.”

“I’m sorry,” I say as I fail to stifle my giggles. “I know it’s not funny. I just—”

I’m lying on the floor and Miranda is straddling me, and every time I laugh, she bounces up and down, which makes me laugh more.

“Miss Taylor!”

The giggles abate, and I take a deep breath to try and calm myself.

“I’m sorry. I’m ready.”

Miranda sighs. She’s used to kissing girls. I’m really, really not.

“Right. Let’s try it again. Remember, this is one of the truly intimate moments in the play. It’s when we see a brief glimpse of George’s vulnerable side. How she genuinely cares for Childie despite how she treats her. We need to feel the sexual tension between you. Are you clear?”

“Yes. Clear.”

It doesn’t make this any easier. Doing a love scene with Ethan was difficult enough. Doing one with another girl is totally out of the realm of my experience. Still, that’s what this whole term is supposed to teach us. That passion is passion, no matter who it involves.

My passion is kind of rusty. Maybe that’s why I’m having so much trouble.

“Okay. Stand and go to first positions. Take a moment to center yourselves.”

I stand opposite Miranda and close my eyes. Breathe. Remind myself to treat this just like any other character. I project myself into George’s mind, so I can discover her motivations. She’s experienced with women. With Childie. She loves her even though she torments her.

We start the scene. I’m agitated, but Childie calms me. Strokes my face. For once, she makes the first move. She kisses me gently then pulls back, hesitant as to how I’ll react. I’m shocked by how forward she is, and although my first instinct is to punish her, she’s looking at me with such hope, I can’t bring myself to do it.

I kiss her back, passionately. She’s so beautiful. As innocent as I am corrupt.

We fall to our knees and continue to kiss. Then, in an act of unparalleled boldness, she pushes me onto my back, straddles me, and grinds against me as she buries her fingers in my hair. I pull open her shirt and palm her breasts before flipping her onto her back and becoming the aggressor again. She wraps her legs around me as I kiss her neck.

We say the last few lines as we pant into each other’s skin.

The scene ends, and Miranda and I stand and await Erika’s notes.

“Well, ladies, that was—”

“Fucking
amazing
!” Jack leaps to his feet and applauds wildly. “Best play
ever
!”

“Mr. Avery!”

“No, seriously, Erika. Can these girls do that scene for the rest of the year? Because … yeah. It’s seriously … stimulating. Stirring stuff.”

“Dude,” Lucas whispers, “You might wanna sit down. It’s kind of obvious how much you enjoyed it.”

Avery immediately covers his crotch and sits. Everyone laughs.

“Shut up, bitches. There are hot chicks making out in front of me. What do you expect? Every straight guy in this room is currently sporting wood. Hey, Holt. Let’s see the size of your tent.”

Ethan rolls his eyes and flips him the bird, but I notice his legs are crossed in such a way that his crotch is hidden from view.

He looks at me for a moment before dropping his gaze and shifting in his seat.

The passion I’ve just dredged up for the scene is now snaking out toward him.

I shove the emotion down. It’s like trying to shove a pillow into a shoe box.

Stupid passion.

This is why we’re not friends anymore.

A huge roar of “Asshole!” comes from the next room, and Connor and I exchange a look. Our friends are playing some asinine card game, and as usual on these Wednesday night get-togethers at Jack’s house, Connor and I are in charge of snacks. I may not be able to cook, but I can open a bag of chips with the best of them, and Connor is the King of Frozen Pizza.

We make a good team.

I watch as he unwraps a couple of frozen pies with the finesse of a magician.

I find myself staring at his hands. He has lovely hands. Actually, most of him is lovely. Sandy brown hair. Brown eyes. Handsome face. Nice body.

Best of all, he’s one of the sweetest, most caring men I’ve ever known.

It’s a pity that doesn’t seem to be enough for me.

“Do I have a booger?”

“Huh?”

Connor smiles, and suddenly the whole room seems brighter. “You were staring. I thought I might be sporting nose poop.”

I shake my head. “Nope. Just admiring the pretty.”

He shrugs. “Okay. I can live with that. But if you think those bags of chips are going to open themselves, you’re sorely mistaken. Get to work, lady.”

He passes me a bowl, and as I dump in the Doritos, he raises an eyebrow. “You making your famous salsa to go with that?”

I nod. “You know me well enough to not doubt my awesomeness by now.” I pull out a jar of salsa and open it. “Voil
à
! Cost me a hot buck and a half to get it just perfect.”

He smiles as he sprinkles extra cheese on the pizzas. “You’re so talented.”

“I know, right? You, too.”

He holds up the bag of cheese. “Yep, if I don’t make it as an actor, Pizza Hut managers all over the country will be lining up to hire me.”

“You make it sound like that’s your fallback plan. May I remind you that even if you do make it, you might still have to take a job as a pizza artist? Theater paychecks can be crappy.”

He laughs. “Yeah, but becoming stars in any capacity means we have to first pass this term’s acting class, and it seems like Erika’s making that as hard as possible with these passion scenes.”

He puts the pizzas in the oven and sets the timer while I grab two beers from the fridge and pass one over. “Well, I’d better start looking for my second job now, because I can barely get through my scene without giggling like I’m high.”

“Oh, please.” He uncaps his beer and takes a drink. “You have nothing to worry about. Your scene with Miranda was amazing yesterday.”

“Are you saying that because you’re a guy who gets off on two women kissing? Or are you basing it on our actual performance?”

He rolls his eyes. “Cassie, give me a break. I’m not Jack. I am capable of watching two women make out like demons without objectifying them.”

I raise an eyebrow.

He turns away as he mumbles, “No matter how fucking hot it was.”

At the mention of his name, Jack walks into the kitchen.

“Are we talking about Miranda and Cassie again? Cool, because I’ve been meaning to ask you a question, Cassie. Is Miranda a better kisser than Holt? Softer lips? Smoother skin? I’m sure the answer is yes, but I’d like to hear it in your own words. Be specific.” He goes to the fridge, grabs a beer, and opens it before looking at me expectantly.

“Forget it, Jack. Miranda and I don’t kiss and tell.” Plus, I’ve perfected the art of blocking out what it was like to kiss Ethan. I’d like to say that time dulls the memories of his mouth, but it really doesn’t. “Besides, Connor will soon be able to give you a play by play of Holt’s kissing technique. Aren’t you guys up to rehearse tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately,” Connor says, and takes a long pull of his beer.

Jack rubs his hands together. “I think Erika was going for maximum crowd entertainment when she cast you two together. I’m taking bets that it’s going to be the most awkward kiss in the history of lips. Cassie, you want in on the action? You could clean up.”

“No way. I have faith that Connor’s going to make it work.”

Jack laughs loudly before heading back into the living room.

Connor takes another slug of his beer. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but we both know Holt and I are going to suck. Ethan’s never made a love scene work with anyone but you, and if he can’t pull it off with the girls in our class, he has no chance with a guy. Let alone a guy he very clearly hates.”

“I don’t think he hates you.”

He gives me a look. “Every time I’m within five feet of you, he glares like he wants to beat the shit out of me.”

“Yeah, but that’s only because he doesn’t know you’ve done twelve years of karate so you can defend yourself against your asshole brothers.”

“Even if he did know, it wouldn’t matter. He’s still hung up on you, and I pity the guy who dates you next, because Holt will probably murder him.”

I lean against the counter and sigh. I doubt what Connor says is true. It seems as though Holt’s becoming more indifferent to me every day.

Connor chuckles and I look up to see him staring at me. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me, what is it?”

He shrugs. “I was just thinking that I should flat-out kiss you one day in front of Ethan just to see if his head would explode with rage. I suspect it would.”

I smile and shake my head. “Yeah, let’s not do that.”

He puts his beer down and places his hands either side of me on the counter. He’s not as tall as Ethan, but I still have to look up to see his face.

“You’re right. Even with my karate training, I’d run the risk of him landing a lucky punch. A better idea would be for you to kiss me. He’d never hit a girl. Especially not you.”

He stares at me in a way that says,
I’m joking, but not really. Kiss me.

I’m spared the humiliation of turning him down when Jack comes back in to retrieve more beer.

“If you two are going to make out in here, just know there is no fucking on the kitchen counter. I don’t want my meat going anywhere near where your meat has been, if you know what I mean.”

Connor grabs the chips and salsa, and mutters, “I’ll take these in to the guys,” before exiting to the living room.

I feel myself blush, and hate it.

Jack shakes his head as he takes the caps off four more beers. “Goddamn, Taylor. You’re not content to have Holt completely tied in knots? You have to bewitch poor old Connor, too? The boy has it bad.”

I scrunch up the empty Doritos bag and throw it into the trash. “I’m not bewitching anyone, Jack. Connor sees me as a friend. That’s all.”