Unsympathetic Magic - Laura Resnick [76]
Since I really didn’t want to discuss the foundation, Darius Phelps, Biko, or anything related to these subjects with Lopez, I was hoping I could get my purse back without actually having to talk to him. After all, this was already turning into a trying day for me, and I hadn’t even left my apartment yet.
Jilly C-Note’s costume was still lying on the floor where I had dropped it last night. I picked up the purple fishnet stockings and the push-up brassiere, and I put them into a bucket with cold water and a generous dollop of soap for hand laundry. I would let the items soak until late tonight, and then rinse them when I returned from my shift at Bella Stella, which is where I would go directly from the Livingston Foundation later today.
I sniffed Jilly’s boots, inside of which my abused feet had been sweating too much lately. I made a face as I discovered that the boots needed a serious remedy. Using a trick I had learned from another actress, I put a solid air freshener inside each boot to absorb the unpleasant odor. The boots should smell fine by the time I had to put them on again.
Then I put the leopard-print shirt and red vinyl skirt into a bag. I would drop them off at a dry cleaner while doing my errands today, and I’d request twenty-four-hour service. That cost more, but I wanted to be sure of having the outfit in hand by the time I got rescheduled for filming.
I had a spare set of keys I could take with me today, and I could use my Equity card as my ID to cash a check at the bank, so that I’d have some cash on me until I got my purse back. I got my daypack out of the closet and packed these things into it, as well as some other supplies I’d need for the day, including bottled water and some healthy snacks. This was cheaper than buying food and beverages while I was out and about. Besides, if I was going to wear Jilly’s outfit on camera again, I shouldn’t indulge in any more fried chicken.
I decided to wear the same sleeveless white blouse, black capri pants, and sensible shoes to the foundation that I would also wear to work at the restaurant tonight; that way I wouldn’t need to bring a change of clothes with me or need to return to home later.
Before I finally left the apartment that day, my gaze fell on the two books that Puma had given me. I shrugged and packed them into the daypack, too, figuring I might as well get some reading done on the subway ride to Harlem.
Today’s acting class at the foundation involved rehearsing two- and three-person scenes from various plays. Some of the kids were ambitious enough to tackle Shakespeare, and we worked on articulating the text and exploring the rhythms, as well as examining some of the more unfamiliar vocabulary. Another of the challenges for an actor doing Shakespeare is figuring out what to do while the other guy in the scene has a speech that lasts for thirty lines—which happens often in Will’s work.
“You’ve probably already heard Jeff say that acting is reacting?” I said to the kids. “Well, onstage, as in life, you’re not doing nothing when someone is talking. You’re listening. Or refusing to listen. You’re thinking about what the other person is saying. Or trying to ignore it and not let it get to you. Or . . .” I glanced at a girl whose eyes were barely open. I remembered her name from yesterday, since she had given me a couple of painkillers for my aching head. “Or maybe, like Shondolyn, you’re struggling not to fall asleep while someone else is doing all the talking.”
Shondolyn blinked and jerked herself awake as the other kids laughed. But, to my surprise, instead of laughing with them, or even looking sheepish, she got tearyeyed.
“I’m sorry, Miss Diamond,” she said in a shaky voice.
“Call me Esther.” I hadn’t meant to embarrass her into tears. “Don’t worry about it, Shondolyn. Friday afternoon, hot day, substitute teacher droning on and on . . .” The kids laughed again, but awkwardly this time. “Bound to happen.”
She cleared her throat. “I need to be excused for a minute.”
“Sure,” I said in bewilderment as she fled the room.
I