Unsympathetic Magic - Laura Resnick [31]
Actually, I thought I might enjoy teaching some acting workshops. Meanwhile, my working in Darius Phelps’ place of employment might be a fruitful avenue for investigating his fate, if he was indeed the individual whom I’d seen last night.
However, I was a little concerned about my outfit. “I’m definitely interested, Jeff. But do I really have to meet your boss? Now, I mean?”
“Since my previous replacement has crapped out on her, yeah, I think she’s going to insist on meeting you. And then you and I can teach a class together today, so the kids can get to know you.”
“Like this? But—”
“Come on.” He gestured to the front door. “It’ll be fine. I’ll explain to her about the outfit.”
I glanced at Max. He was frowning. But when I lifted my brows in silent query, he gave a little shake of his head, indicating that he didn’t want to discuss whatever was troubling him. Not in front of Jeff, anyhow.
“Okay, let’s go meet your boss,” I said to Jeff. “Oh! Wait!”
“What’s wrong?” Jeff said.
“Before we do anything else, I have to make a call. Can I borrow your cell? Mine was stolen last night.”
“Stolen?” Jeff reached into his pocket.
“Yes. I’ll explain later. But this call is important. I should do it right now. Thanks.” I accepted the phone from him . . . and then realized I didn’t actually know the D30 production office’s number. I’d have to phone directory assistance first. “This will just take a few minutes.”
As I walked a little distance away from the two men to make my calls, I heard Max say, “So you are a fellow thespian. Is that how you and Esther met?”
“Yeah. We did Othello together,” Jeff said. “She was Ophelia. I got to strangle her.”
And on many occasions after we started dating, I wished it had been the reverse.
Max was a Shakespeare fan, so he plied Jeff with questions about that long-ago production while I got directory assistance to connect me to D30. The production office’s phone rang a few times, and then someone answered it just long enough to put me on hold.
Jeff had always been his own best publicist, and from the bits of his conversation with Max that I overheard while on hold with D30, I could tell that this hadn’t changed.
That production of Othello had been a non-Equity cooperative showcase, meaning we all did it for free so we could list another role on our résumés, and so we could try to attract some attention (from talent agents, for example). The income from ticket sales barely covered the cost of the small, shabby performance space that we rented above a bar in the East Village. But based on what Jeff was saying about that production now, Max was probably getting the impression that we had performed the play at Lincoln Center and that Jeff had only narrowly missed being nominated for a Tony Award.
Playing Ophelia opposite Jeff had been my first good role after coming to New York. After graduating from Northwestern University, I had moved here with two other classmates, and we had gotten lucky and secured the rent-controlled apartment that I still lived in. We mostly paid our bills by waiting tables, telemarketing, and doing office temping. My first “acting” job in New York had involved dressing up as a bear and wandering the streets, handing out leaflets for a toy store at Christmas. I was subsequently cast as a singing rutabaga in a one-act play that toured local schools to teach children about nutrition. (The rutabaga, an unjustly neglected root vegetable, contains vitamins A and C.)
After that, I was determined to play an actual human being, even if I wasn’t paid for it. So I went to the audition when I heard about the Othello showcase. The project was being coproduced by the director and the lead actor—Jeffrey Clark. Jeff had been in New York longer than I had, he knew the ropes better than I did, and he was tremendously talented. He was also very attractive, and he thought I was tremendously talented. Before long, our flirtation turned into a serious relationship.