the machine, and I could practically hear my dick revvin’ up for a boner.
The fat lady laughed ha-HA up a full octave and quickly down the scale, and said, “Marshall, you crazy-fuck.” Which startled me – I’d never heard a woman say fuck before. “Hi, I’m Libby,” she said to me. “You here for the auditions?”
“Of course he is,” Marshall said. “Don’t you think he’d be perfect for the boy?” He grabbed my face with one hand, pushing my cheeks together and making my lips pooch out, and said, “Just look at this face. Have you ever seen a more innocent face in your life?”
Libby slapped at Marshall’s arm and said, “Marsh, would you let go of the child’s face. What’s your name, baby?”
“Johnnie Ray.” It was a wonder I could talk at all: Marshall’s arm was still around me, his hand sort of dangling off my shoulder, and it was making me crazy. I’d never had a guy, let alone a guy this cute, be so physical with me before, and I was flattered that this good-looking college dude was being so palsie-walsie, but if he didn’t stop touching me, I was going to be in big trouble, erection-wise.
“Well, it sure is good to see you,” Libby said. “The turnout from the high school has not been what we’d hoped for.”
“How many kids have been in?” I looked around the room again; there was nobody there from school.
“Baby, so far you are it ,” Libby said, ever smiling. Her head moved from side to side when she talked. I took an immediate like to this big dame. “Have you ever done any acting before?”
“Sure, I’ve been in – ”
“Shit,” she said, “I’m desperate. I’ll take you if you can read. If you can repeat what you hear, like a parrot. I need a boy.” Suddenly, she looked askance at me, as if trying to read my fine print. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen,” I said. Which was a lie. I was a full half-year short of eighteen, but something told me eighteen was a much better answer than seventeen-going-on, so I lied.
“Oh, good,” Libby said.
“Street-legal,” Marshall said.
“Street-legal?”
“Cut it out, Marsh,” said Libby. “Come sit down,” she said, gesturing me away from the door and plopping her great bulk down onto the floor. I sat cross-legged across from her, and Marshall sat down next to me.
Libby leaned forward to talk to me. The soles of her plump feet were black with dirt.
“Now, what we’re doing here are basically just class projects.
Nobody’s gonna see ’em except the class and the instructors. Not exactly a major career move for you as an actor. Anyway, what I’m doing is a one-act about prison. It’s called Lockup , and it’s a very realistic depiction of prison life. The situations are rough and the language is rough. Understand?”
“I guess.” I don’t use a lot of cusswords myself, but it’s not as if I’d never heard any.
“Also,” Libby continued, “because this is about prison, the subject of homosexuality is involved.”
A chill started at my toes, flew up the length of me, and shot out through the top of my head. I wouldn’t have been surprised if my hair had stood straight up.
“Does that bother you?” Libby stared me dead in the eyes.
“No,” I said, fighting a tremble.
“You sure?”
“Sure,” I said, hoping I sounded surer than I felt.
“Course it don’t bother little Johnnie Ray.” Marshall smiled and raised an eyebrow at me. “Does it?” And from the way he said that, I got the feeling it was a serious question, like he was trying to get me to admit something. And for some reason, I got kind of bold. I just looked Marshall square in the face and said, “Nope. Not a bit.”
“Good,” Libby said. “Either way, I’ve got to have your mom or dad sign a waiver that they understand you’ll be involved in a play with quote adult subject matter unquote. Think that’ll be a problem?” “No. My parents are cool.” Which was a half-lie. Mom and Dad were decidedly uncool
The fat lady laughed ha-HA up a full octave and quickly down the scale, and said, “Marshall, you crazy-fuck.” Which startled me – I’d never heard a woman say fuck before. “Hi, I’m Libby,” she said to me. “You here for the auditions?”
“Of course he is,” Marshall said. “Don’t you think he’d be perfect for the boy?” He grabbed my face with one hand, pushing my cheeks together and making my lips pooch out, and said, “Just look at this face. Have you ever seen a more innocent face in your life?”
Libby slapped at Marshall’s arm and said, “Marsh, would you let go of the child’s face. What’s your name, baby?”
“Johnnie Ray.” It was a wonder I could talk at all: Marshall’s arm was still around me, his hand sort of dangling off my shoulder, and it was making me crazy. I’d never had a guy, let alone a guy this cute, be so physical with me before, and I was flattered that this good-looking college dude was being so palsie-walsie, but if he didn’t stop touching me, I was going to be in big trouble, erection-wise.
“Well, it sure is good to see you,” Libby said. “The turnout from the high school has not been what we’d hoped for.”
“How many kids have been in?” I looked around the room again; there was nobody there from school.
“Baby, so far you are it ,” Libby said, ever smiling. Her head moved from side to side when she talked. I took an immediate like to this big dame. “Have you ever done any acting before?”
“Sure, I’ve been in – ”
“Shit,” she said, “I’m desperate. I’ll take you if you can read. If you can repeat what you hear, like a parrot. I need a boy.” Suddenly, she looked askance at me, as if trying to read my fine print. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen,” I said. Which was a lie. I was a full half-year short of eighteen, but something told me eighteen was a much better answer than seventeen-going-on, so I lied.
“Oh, good,” Libby said.
“Street-legal,” Marshall said.
“Street-legal?”
“Cut it out, Marsh,” said Libby. “Come sit down,” she said, gesturing me away from the door and plopping her great bulk down onto the floor. I sat cross-legged across from her, and Marshall sat down next to me.
Libby leaned forward to talk to me. The soles of her plump feet were black with dirt.
“Now, what we’re doing here are basically just class projects.
Nobody’s gonna see ’em except the class and the instructors. Not exactly a major career move for you as an actor. Anyway, what I’m doing is a one-act about prison. It’s called Lockup , and it’s a very realistic depiction of prison life. The situations are rough and the language is rough. Understand?”
“I guess.” I don’t use a lot of cusswords myself, but it’s not as if I’d never heard any.
“Also,” Libby continued, “because this is about prison, the subject of homosexuality is involved.”
A chill started at my toes, flew up the length of me, and shot out through the top of my head. I wouldn’t have been surprised if my hair had stood straight up.
“Does that bother you?” Libby stared me dead in the eyes.
“No,” I said, fighting a tremble.
“You sure?”
“Sure,” I said, hoping I sounded surer than I felt.
“Course it don’t bother little Johnnie Ray.” Marshall smiled and raised an eyebrow at me. “Does it?” And from the way he said that, I got the feeling it was a serious question, like he was trying to get me to admit something. And for some reason, I got kind of bold. I just looked Marshall square in the face and said, “Nope. Not a bit.”
“Good,” Libby said. “Either way, I’ve got to have your mom or dad sign a waiver that they understand you’ll be involved in a play with quote adult subject matter unquote. Think that’ll be a problem?” “No. My parents are cool.” Which was a half-lie. Mom and Dad were decidedly uncool
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