about rough language, rough situations, etcetera. But there wouldn’t be a problem because I’d just sign Mom’s name myself. I used to do so many sick notes and absence notes to get out of P.E., I sign Mom’s name better than she does.
“Great.” Libby smiled. “Think you want to read for me?”
“Why not?” I shrugged, hoping I looked mature and nonchalant, which was nothing like what I felt.
“Now, there are only four characters in this play. I’ve already cast three of them with some friends of mine. Marshall’s one of them.” I looked at Marshall, who smiled mischievously in my direction. “All but the boy. Now he’s just a kid, and he’s been busted for pot and thrown into the klink with a bunch of hardened criminals. That’s the part you’d play.” She handed me a script, a bunch of ditto sheets stapled together at the upper left corner and folded open to a page somewhere near the middle.
“Okay,” Libby said, “this is your first day in jail. You’ve been busted on a pot rap, and you’ve been tossed into a cell with a convicted rapist, who has taken the first opportunity to come on like gangbusters, and you’re scared. Shitless.” Libby smiled at her own speech. “But as Ponch is coming on to you, you find, to your great fear and confusion, that while he’s scaring the living shit out of you, he’s also turning you on. Got that?”
“Uh-huh.” I must admit I was a bit surprised to find such goings-on at our local J.C. Maybe this town wasn’t so tight-assed after all.
“Great. Okay, top of page nine, starting with Ponch, that’s
Marsh, and Johnnie Ray, you read Billy; Marsh I want menacing, I want sex, and Johnnie Ray, I want fear, I want scared shitless. As the scene progresses, I want Marshall advancing, Johnnie Ray retreating, and by the end of the scene I want Johnnie Ray backed into a corner and Marsh practically breathing up the kid’s nose; and Johnnie Ray, by that time you’re so scared you’ve practically soiled your bloomers, and at the same time you’re so turned on you’d have this man’s baby. Get it?”
“Got it,” I said.
“Good. Let’s go, then.”
I took a quick glance at page nine, trying to get some idea of the lines – cold readings make me nervous, and this Marshall person wasn’t helping – when Libby says, “Ready. Aaaaaaand … go.”
And Marshall jumps into a crouch, and his face takes on this wild-eyed expression that I swear had “rapist” scribbled all over it, and he starts reading:
PONCH. This your first time inna joint?
BILLY. Uh-huh. [My first line – one word, and my voice cracks on it. And believe you me, it isn’t acting – this dude is scaring me to death. “Good fear, Johnnie Ray,” Libby says.]
PONCH. Hey, baby, no problem. No problem. Ponch’ll take care of you, baby. Ponch’ll take care of you real good. [At which point Marshall puts his hand on my leg and starts stroking it – just a bit of improv. Libby says, “Good business.” And naturally, my dick pops up like toast, and with me in that crouched position, it’s all revved up with no place to go. Which means Marshall and Libby probably can’t tell that I’ve just popped a raging bone-on, and also means that I am experiencing some serious discomfort.]
BILLY. Leave me alone! [I slap wildly at Marshall’s hand, and he takes it away.] Guard!
PONCH. Hey, baby. Hey, beautiful. [Marshall reaches up and strokes my face. My heart starts pounding until my whole body feels like one big pulse.] Don’t be like that. You gonna need somebody to take care of you in a place like this, pretty young thing like you. Got nobody to take care of you, you get hurt, get hurt real bad. You wouldn’t want that, would you?
BILLY. No. [My voice is all but inaudible. Libby says, “Good, Johnnie Ray.”]
PONCH. Course not. [Marshall leans forward. I immediately move back. And we slowly start moving, steadily – Marshall forward, me backward, half crouch, half crawl on all
“Great.” Libby smiled. “Think you want to read for me?”
“Why not?” I shrugged, hoping I looked mature and nonchalant, which was nothing like what I felt.
“Now, there are only four characters in this play. I’ve already cast three of them with some friends of mine. Marshall’s one of them.” I looked at Marshall, who smiled mischievously in my direction. “All but the boy. Now he’s just a kid, and he’s been busted for pot and thrown into the klink with a bunch of hardened criminals. That’s the part you’d play.” She handed me a script, a bunch of ditto sheets stapled together at the upper left corner and folded open to a page somewhere near the middle.
“Okay,” Libby said, “this is your first day in jail. You’ve been busted on a pot rap, and you’ve been tossed into a cell with a convicted rapist, who has taken the first opportunity to come on like gangbusters, and you’re scared. Shitless.” Libby smiled at her own speech. “But as Ponch is coming on to you, you find, to your great fear and confusion, that while he’s scaring the living shit out of you, he’s also turning you on. Got that?”
“Uh-huh.” I must admit I was a bit surprised to find such goings-on at our local J.C. Maybe this town wasn’t so tight-assed after all.
“Great. Okay, top of page nine, starting with Ponch, that’s
Marsh, and Johnnie Ray, you read Billy; Marsh I want menacing, I want sex, and Johnnie Ray, I want fear, I want scared shitless. As the scene progresses, I want Marshall advancing, Johnnie Ray retreating, and by the end of the scene I want Johnnie Ray backed into a corner and Marsh practically breathing up the kid’s nose; and Johnnie Ray, by that time you’re so scared you’ve practically soiled your bloomers, and at the same time you’re so turned on you’d have this man’s baby. Get it?”
“Got it,” I said.
“Good. Let’s go, then.”
I took a quick glance at page nine, trying to get some idea of the lines – cold readings make me nervous, and this Marshall person wasn’t helping – when Libby says, “Ready. Aaaaaaand … go.”
And Marshall jumps into a crouch, and his face takes on this wild-eyed expression that I swear had “rapist” scribbled all over it, and he starts reading:
PONCH. This your first time inna joint?
BILLY. Uh-huh. [My first line – one word, and my voice cracks on it. And believe you me, it isn’t acting – this dude is scaring me to death. “Good fear, Johnnie Ray,” Libby says.]
PONCH. Hey, baby, no problem. No problem. Ponch’ll take care of you, baby. Ponch’ll take care of you real good. [At which point Marshall puts his hand on my leg and starts stroking it – just a bit of improv. Libby says, “Good business.” And naturally, my dick pops up like toast, and with me in that crouched position, it’s all revved up with no place to go. Which means Marshall and Libby probably can’t tell that I’ve just popped a raging bone-on, and also means that I am experiencing some serious discomfort.]
BILLY. Leave me alone! [I slap wildly at Marshall’s hand, and he takes it away.] Guard!
PONCH. Hey, baby. Hey, beautiful. [Marshall reaches up and strokes my face. My heart starts pounding until my whole body feels like one big pulse.] Don’t be like that. You gonna need somebody to take care of you in a place like this, pretty young thing like you. Got nobody to take care of you, you get hurt, get hurt real bad. You wouldn’t want that, would you?
BILLY. No. [My voice is all but inaudible. Libby says, “Good, Johnnie Ray.”]
PONCH. Course not. [Marshall leans forward. I immediately move back. And we slowly start moving, steadily – Marshall forward, me backward, half crouch, half crawl on all
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