“How on earth do you learn a whole movie’s worth of words?”
“Easy. On a movie set, we only ever get a few pages of dialogue each day. But in theater . . .” He leans against the vanity. “You guys expected me to have the whole play learned by the time I got here. Do you know how many freaking lines Petruchio has? And Shakespeare isn’t exactly the easiest stuff to remember. I thought I was doing pretty well staying ahead of the schedule. Then on the weekend, David’s dad had a heart attack back in England.”
“Oh, no . . .”
“His dad survived, but he’s in the hospital. Of course, I put David on the first plane home. I’ve been trying to learn today’s scenes by myself, but . . .” He kicks the remnants of the trash can, which flies across the room and slams into the wall. “I have to reread everything five times, and even then, I don’t know if I have it right.”
“It’s okay. We’ll figure this out.”
He sighs. “You can’t tell anyone. Please.”
“Liam, having dyslexia is nothing to be ashamed of.”
He stares at a spot on the wall, and I hate how down on himself he seems. “You don’t understand what it’s like to not be able to do something most six-year-olds can. How stupid it makes me feel. This is why I took so long to try my hand at acting. I knew it would be a major obstacle.”
“Well, Tom Cruise has done okay over the years, and he’s hugely dyslexic.”
That gets me an eye roll. “Yeah, but he also believes people are inhabited by the souls of dead aliens. Please don’t hold him up as a role model.”
My mind races. In all my years of professional theater, I’ve never come up against something like this. Still, I’m all about finding solutions, so that’s what I’ll do.
“Okay, tell me how I can help you.”
He rubs his forehead. “I don’t know. Go over the lines with me, maybe. We’re only doing one page of that scene, and then we’re going to go over some scenes from last week. If I can make it through this morning I’ll be okay, for today at least.”
I look at my watch. “How long will it take you to learn the lines?”
“A whole page? Maybe fifteen minutes.”
“Be right back.”
I race to the rehearsal room and grab my script from the production desk. Josh is there making notes on the scene Marco is running with Angel.
“Hey, what’s up? Is Liam okay?”
“He just needs to run some lines. Tell Marco we’ll be back soon.”
I rush down the corridor to the men’s room and find Liam waiting.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s do this.”
Exactly twelve minutes later, Liam and I walk back into the rehearsal room, and even though Marco raises an eyebrow at me, he doesn’t ask what’s going on.
I help Liam reattach his mic pack. Within seconds his camera crew is hovering.
Angel walks over and puts a hand on Liam’s arm. “Everything okay?”
He gives her a warm smile. “Fine. Not enough sleep. Just needed a little refresher on the lines.”
“That’s not like you.”
“I know. It’s fine. Elissa helped me out.”
“Okay, then,” Marco says, “let’s try it from the top of this scene.”
Liam shoots me a nervous look. I hope he can pull this off. He learned the lines in record time, but I worry about his retention. Twelve minutes to learn a page of Shakespearean prose is no easy task.
Marco calls for quiet, then says, “Begin when you’re ready.”
They start the scene, and I’m relieved to see it’s a huge improvement over their earlier attempt. Not only is Liam on point with his lines, but Angel’s time with Marco has also yielded results. She’s learning how to imbue Kate with enough vulnerability to match her bitterness, and the chemistry she and Liam create is palpable.
It’s the first meeting between Kate and Petruchio, and the way Marco has directed it makes all of the verbal barbs and insults seem like wordy foreplay.
“If I be waspish, best beware my sting,” Angel says, assessing Liam like he’s something to eat.
Liam moves toward her, slow and seductive. “My remedy is then to pluck it out.”
“Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies.” Angel’s voice becomes breathy.
“Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail.” He winds his arms around Angel and unapologetically strokes her butt.
Angel looks like she’s about to orgasm. “In his tongue.”
“Whose tongue?” The way he’s looking at her is making me hot. In my pants.
Angel looks like she’s feeling the same. “Yours, if you talk of tails. And so farewell.”
She attempts to break away, but Liam traps her hands behind her back. Angel lets out a quiet moan.
Liam smiles at how he affects her. “What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again, Good Kate. I am a gentleman.”
My tongue in your tail? My God, Shakespeare was a perv.