over, that she wouldn’t listen to the audience response, but she couldn’t help herself. It was a masochistic tendency she had developed during the run of the very first show she’d ever directed—the need to mingle with the audience and hear everything they were saying.
I really am an idiot, she chided herself as she made her way up the aisle toward the lobby. If there’s even a chance someone’s saying something unflattering about me, I’ll rush to hear it like a dog looking for a treat. I’m a glutton for punishment.
She knew it was true, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from pushing open the doors and stepping out among the throng of people who filled the lobby.
Once among them, she found an empty place against a wall and stood with her back to it, watching the people go by and listening to their conversation. One of the benefits of being a playwright rather than an actor was that nobody ever recognized her by sight. If the crowd passing by in the lobby had known who she was, she was sure many of them would have stopped to talk, to compliment the show or to ask her questions. But she was able to be anonymous, and that suited her in the moment.
A group of women passing by enthused over the acting, and Charlotte couldn’t help but smile. They have no idea how hard I wrestled with the actors. This cast had been more difficult than any she had ever worked with. Her problems getting Emery to understand her character’s motivation had been the tip of the iceberg.
There was Mitchell Young, who had acted on Broadway before. He considered his qualifications above reproach and was extremely hesitant to take any direction from Charlotte on anything. Every time she gave him a note, he nodded and then completely disregarded what she’d said in the next run through. It took a thousand little corrections to impact his performance.
And there was Scott Travers, the youngest member of the cast and a debut actor. Charlotte adored Scott’s enthusiasm for the project they were working on, but it was so difficult to keep him focused. He so often missed his cues because he was wandering around backstage taking in the sights, marveling at where he was.
Charlotte could understand that. She often felt the urge to marvel at where she was herself. But she couldn’t deny that she had been anxious about Scott’s attention drifting tonight.
Thank God he kept his mind on the show!
As the lobby emptied out, Charlotte made her way backstage to speak to the cast, to congratulate them and thank them for the wonderful performance and to discuss tomorrow’s show.
They were gathered in the hallway that connected the dressing rooms to one another, costumes drooping, makeup melted from two hours under the stage lights, passing around water bottles and plastic flutes of champagne. Someone pressed a drink into Charlotte’s hands as she stepped into the hall, and the whole cast cheered.
Emery came running up to her. She was bright-eyed, and though her makeup was smeared, her exhilaration made her look lovely.
“The audience loved it!” she said. “Did you see the ovation we got? I bet we’ll get five-star reviews!”
“Hey, don’t jinx it!” someone called from the back of the crowd.
Emery waved her hand dismissively in the objector’s direction. “It couldn’t have gone any better,” she said.
Charlotte heard the jubilation in her leading lady’s voice and the critique she had been planning to give died in her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to rain on Emery’s parade. Not while everyone was so happy and excited. The show had been a success, and they deserved to celebrate.
“We’re going to Darcy’s Pub once everyone is cleaned up and ready to leave,” Scott said. “Do you want to come with us, Charlotte?”
She hesitated. She had been planning to go back to her apartment, make herself a cup of tea, and get to sleep early. This seemed especially important since she wasn’t going to give her cast notes on their performance tonight. She would have to set an earlier call time tomorrow to allow for that conversation to take place.
But it was hard not to be swept up in the actors’ joy at their success. “I suppose I could have one drink,” she said.
“Are you even old enough to drink, Scott?” someone called out.
“Shut up,” Scott said cheerfully. “I’m twenty-three.”
“I need to go do a last sweep of the stage,” Charlotte said. “I’ll meet you over at Darcy’s, okay?”
“That’s fine,” Scott said. “Mitchell’s already gone over to reserve some tables.”
Charlotte nodded. “I’ll see you all there,” she said to the group. “And while I’ve got you here, I want to thank you for your wonderful performance tonight. It was amazing to see our show finally brought to life for an audience, and it truly could not have been what it was without each and every one of you.”
The cast cheered her again and began to disperse, hurrying to wash their faces and change out of their costumes.
Charlotte made her way to the stage, her thoughts already turning toward tomorrow’s performance.
Just a few little things to tweak, she thought. Then the show will be absolutely perfect.
She just hoped she would be able to get her actors to listen.
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