I'm Glad About You by Theresa Rebeck Read Free Book Online Page A

this was truly idiotic, New York City was filthy and the people rude and spiritless and this whole enterprise was just fucking stupid from start to finish.
    “It was just people running,” she said. Her own terror and disappointment at the mess she had made out of her young life mysteriously entered the room and hung there. Her weariness was tangible. “There were so many people.”
    “You see a gun?” Michael asked, completely uninterested.
    “No. Just everybody running, and yelling.” She felt the tears rise to her face. Why was she crying, why now, why did this have to happen right now? She wanted to scratch her own eyes out but instead she just blurted out the rest of the line. “Can I go? My boyfriend’s waiting,” she informed the camera, defiant now. She really did; she just wanted to get out of there.
    There was a moment of silence. “Thank you,” said Leslie the suspicious casting director, dismissing her. Two fucking lines and she hadn’t even watched, Alison felt sure.
    “That was really great,” piped up the writer. “Seriously, that was fantastic.” He turned to the director. “That’s what I’m talking about,” he informed him, firm. “It’s only two lines but there has to be stakes .”
    “No, I get that,” said the director.
    “You can’t just throw some Goth girl in this, just so you have something to point the camera at,” the writer continued, as if he were in the middle of a private discussion with the whole room. “She’s the first indication we get, the way she is acting is the first time McMurtry gets the scent of what might be going on here.”
    “If it’s that big, then everybody gets the scent,” the director said, annoyed to be having this conversation at all, much less in public.
    “What would be wrong with that?” asked the writer. “It’s a triple homicide, hello, it’s going to make the Daily News . There’s a whole crowd watching, we’re supposed to have something like twenty extras that day.” This was important to that guy. Those two lines were everything.
    “I just don’t see the point of giving the whole show away in the teaser,” the director announced. He turned back to Alison, pointed. “Thank you, that really was terrific.”
    “I’m not saying—that’s not what I’m saying,” said the writer, frustrated.
    “Thanks,” said the casting director, as she stood. Alison was clearly being dismissed. She turned, relieved, ready to bolt out of there.
    “No, that’s—could you wait?” said the writer. Alison looked back, confused. She looked around at the others. Was he talking to her? “Yes, you, I mean you, you should wait. Just wait outside the door for a moment, please,” he ordered her. He stood himself, heading toward the closed door with a purposeful authority. “That was terrific, really just wonderful, Alison. I want you to wait right here.” He waved his hand vaguely as he opened the door. The gesture would have been dismissive if what he was saying wasn’t so pointedly not. As she stepped outside he continued to talk. “The last three episodes came in short, and we’re getting hammered by the studio, they want us to come up with scripts that are closer to sixty pages and I think that to do that we have to bite the bullet and . . .” The door slammed shut behind him. Alison stared at it, wondering how they were going to bite the bullet. Hello Kitty girl looked up at her.
    “He asked me to wait,” she told her.
    “Yeah, fine,” she said, impatient again. Two looming potential cops hovered over them both, trying to sign in. “I don’t know where you’re going to sit, though. There’s some room down there, you can stand down there.” Alison glanced to where she was pointing; it looked like it was in Siberia, it was so far down the hallway. There were at least twenty-five actors in folding chairs, leaning against doorways, a couple sitting on the floor. The place was starting to smell a little too strongly of human