Famous by Blake Crouch Read Free Book Online Page B

the
script out, place it on the desk. Training wheels, just in case I
blank.
    Matt stands between the loveseat and the
desk. I feel that light shining down on me from the blackness of
the ceiling. Jane and Ben look so comfortable. I keep reminding
myself of that quote I heard somewhere, that if you’re scared, you
should pretend like you’re at ease, and no one will know.
    “Everything,” Matt says to all of us, “hinges
on this scene.”
    Great. I’m going to fuck up this guy’s
play.
    “I know,” he continues, “there’s this
temptation to take it over the top here, and some directors would
probably go for that, but I don’t think we need to. The play
itself, the way it treats relationships, is already so over the
top, the acting shouldn’t mimic that, you know?”
    I most certainly do not know what in the hell
he’s talking about.
    “Lookit, there’s comedy here, but fuck up the
timing, you know? This isn’t Neil Simon. I want people to laugh,
but not too much. The goal, honestly, is to unnerve them. They’ll
laugh for the same reason people laugh at funerals. So,” he glances
back at me, “want to give it a go?”
    Oh God.
    “Why not?”
    What is my first line? Shit.
    Matt walks off the stage and takes a seat in
the first row.
    “Let’s do the whole scene,” he says, “and I
swear I won’t interrupt you the first time. I’ll just go ahead and
tell you, Jim, I’m pretty bad about that. I mean, I could work on
thirty seconds of dialogue for a whole afternoon. But I don’t think
we’re going to have that problem today. Ben, whenever you’re
ready.”
    Ben takes a deep breath and stares for a
moment into the floor.
    When his eyes come back to mine, he’s a
different person. Vulnerable, wounded.
    “Thank you for seeing us on such short
notice, Dr. Lovejoy,” he says gravely.
    My line. Fuck. I lean forward and glance at
page fifteen of the script.
    “Yes, well. My time is extremely. Limited so
why don’t you tell me the problem.”
    That was awful. Wooden. Perfunctory.
    “I’m the problem,” Jane says, crossing her
arms and glancing with annoyance into the empty theatre. She really
looks pissed.
    “I’ll decide that.”
    “No, she’s right, Doctor. She most certainly
is the problem. She’s an enormous problem.” Ben is so good. I feel
like he’s really speaking to me.
    My lines have evaporated. I grab the
script.
    “Sorry, Matt.”
    “It’s all right. Stay with it.”
    “So,” I continue, and I know it, everyone in
the theatre knows it—I am dying up here. “You initiated this
session what would you like for me to say?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “What did you come—”
    “Okay!” Matt yells, coming out of his seat,
“I know I said I wouldn’t, but I want to stop here for a second.”
He walks onstage, begins pacing between the sofa and the desk.
    “I think I know what you’re up to here,
Jim.”
    Man, I wish someone would dim those overhead
lights. I’m sweating like a maniac.
    “I don’t think the whole acting like you
can’t act thing is going to work for this scene, and I’ll tell you
why. Don’t get me wrong—it’s frighteningly convincing. But like I
said before, it’s way, way over the top, and if this play gets any
goofier, it’ll fall apart. You know what I’m saying, Jim?”
    “Absolutely.”
    Matt approaches me. “I think it might help if
we get you out from behind this desk. Connect you to Gerald and
Cynthia a little more. Here,” he comes over, “let’s slide your
chair out to center stage.”
    This is dynamite. Now I’m sitting six feet
away from Jane and Ben, and they’re going to see the fear dripping
from my face. My inability is so fucking glaring, I’m on the verge
of running the hell out of this theatre right now.
    “And Jim?” Matt says as he walks back to his
chair on the front row, “let’s slow things down a little. Feels
like you’re rushing your lines a tad.”
    Jane gives me a reassuring smile. Ben’s
looking up