am.” She lifted her arms and let them drop to the side in demonstration. “I think I have you to either thank or kill.” A pause. “So…thank you.”
Lauren was afraid, Carly realized. She was a quieter individual, who had dealt with a lot of rejection as an actress. Carly needed to remember that. “Well, all I did was put you in front of Ethan—you did the rest. Besides, when do people around here pay any attention to me, anyway?”
“More than you realize.”
Carly shook her head, still on a high from the news. “This was all you and your talent.”
Lauren exhaled slowly, as if she was about to board a really intimidating roller coaster.
“Places for act two,” Trip announced to the room with gusto. Carly passed him the thumbs-up and slapped his shoulder.
“You’re gonna kill it as the production stage manager-y thing.”
“Thanks, Carly D. Working on it.” He winked and ran a hand through his bouncy curls, which, strangely, seemed even bouncier than usual. It was almost like they knew he’d been promoted.
Kirby raced over. “Oh my God. This is the best thing ever. Lauren, you’re perfect for this. Do you need anything? How about I help you with lines? Oh, wow. This is huge. I gotta call my boyfriend later. Oh, do you want to get drinks after rehearsal tonight? Maybe we can all get drinks,” she said, indicating herself, Lauren, and Carly with a circular gesture.
“Kirby?” Carly asked.
“Yeah?”
“Let’s give Lauren some space.”
Kirby beamed and pointed at Carly as a light bulb appeared. “Got it. Say no more. You’re doing great, Lauren. Gonna smash some faces, which is a good thing. It’s like the new break a leg.”
“Is it?” Carly asked. Because that seemed aggressive.
“Yes, and that’s exactly what Lauren is going to do,” Kirby said, with confidence.
Except, once they got started, Lauren wasn’t herself onstage. There was a stilted quality to her delivery that hadn’t been there in days past. She didn’t hold eye contact with Carly for very long during any of their scenes and seemed unexpectedly clumsy all of a sudden.
“I am so sorry,” Lauren blurted to TJ, as she turned and ran right into him on her downstage cross.
He steadied her by the shoulders, in character, and continued on. Company members seemed tense yet supportive as they watched, only exchanging a few looks when the same moment had to be restarted six different times. Carly felt responsible for Lauren and reassured her every time she apologized.
“And that’s lunch. See you back in one hour,” Trip announced.
Lauren’s face was red and flushed as she moved to the door. She kept her head down in what looked to be mortification.
“Hey, Lauren, wait up.” Lauren paused her exit and glanced back at Carly. “We’re grabbing lunch.”
“No, no. Thank you, though,” Lauren said. “I’m just gonna dash back to my house and freshen up.”
Carly allowed her face to fall. “No, you’re coming with me. Say yes.” She batted her eyelashes at Lauren and hoped she hadn’t lost her touch.
Lauren opened and closed her mouth before finally settling on, “Well, when you look at me like that.”
“Then I will always look at you just like that.” She grabbed Lauren’s hand and dragged her out of the building to the parking lot.
“Where are we going?”
“To Pete’s.”
“To Pete’s?” Lauren squeaked, mid-drag, in the cutest voice. “That’s kind of a bar, more than anything.”
“Yes, I’ve been there and I’m dying to go back. Killer fries.”
Carly secretly had another motive, however, and knew exactly what Lauren needed to get through this day and loosen the hell up. When they arrived at the dimly lit pool hall, Carly headed straight for the bar. “Fries for all?”
Lauren shrugged as she slid onto a stool at the bar, not as engaged in this field trip as Carly was. It was clear she was carrying a lot of disappointment in how the morning had gone. “Sure.”
Carly took the stool next to her and signaled the bartender, who moseyed over, towel on his shoulder.
“Carly Daniel is back. We need to get you to sign the wall before you head out of town.”
“I’d be happy to.” She beamed. “We’ll take a large order of fries, a side of nacho cheese, two Diet Cokes, a shot of whiskey, and a pickle. No, two.”
Lauren raised an eyebrow. “Normally, I would question that whiskey decision, but I’m not your stage manager anymore.”
Carly laughed. “Except the whiskey isn’t for me.”
“Who’s it for?” She balked, knowing the likely answer.