Broadway?â I said sarcastically. âIf that happens, you can sit onstage.â
âSo whatâs it really like to perform?â Jazzy asked a few minutes later. She was filming me in front of the pierâs massive Ferris wheel.
âYou know. Youâve performed.â
âI was onstage for two minutes. And I spent most of that time trying to get out from under my cardboard Romeo. Besides, this is your documentary, not mine. So shut up and talk!â
I gazed up at the Ferris wheel.
âIs it like sex?â Jazzy hinted.
âHow should I know?â
âOh yeah, I forgot. Is it like getting wasted?â
I glared at her through the lens.
âIs it like being thrown into a bush by a gang of testosterone-driven seniors?â
âSometimes!â
âIs it like flipping through Cosmo and stuffing your face with Twizzlers?â
âNo! No! No! Itâs the biggest rush!â I declared as Jazzy zoomed in. âItâs like being electrified. For those five minutes Iâm not alone. I belong, I have a purpose. I connectâI donât worry about anythingâmy future, my past, anything. I feel euphoric.â
âAnd if they donât laugh?â
âIâll stay in bed and hide under the covers!â
âThatâs a wrap,â Jazzy shouted, turning off the camera. âI donât care what you say. It sounds like sex to me.â We giggled as we gathered our belongings and headed for the train.
LIVE FROM CHAPLINâS
W ednesday night I began my gig at Chaplinâs. The show started at 8:30 with a second show on Friday and Saturday.
âBreak a leg, sweetheart,â my dad said, giving me a kiss on the cheek when he pulled into Chaplinâs parking lot. âAre you sure you donât want me to stay?â
âDad, Iâm freaking as it is! Youâll be with me here,â I said, pointing to my heart.
I plunked myself down at my home away from homeâa little table at the back of the club.
âLast time you were lateânow youâre early,â Ben remarked.
âI was afraid there might be traffic.â
âYou live two blocks away!â
âThere could have been a parade for all I knew,â I said, biting my fingernails.
âCan I get you a pop?â he offered.
âIâll be running to the bathroom every two minutes.â
âThen Iâll leave you to veg out or Zen out orwhatever you do.â
âFreak out. Thatâs what I do!â
I had brought my comedy notebook to review my material. For diversion Iâd also brought a Walkman with a Celestial Seas tape and a stack of magazines. But they failed to distract me. All too soon the audience would be filling the empty tables and expecting nonstop laughs. And I was supposed to remain calm and read about abstinence in Seventeen ? Instead I fervently stared at my comedy notebook and bit my nails.
âDoes performing get any easier?â I asked Ben when he came back to check on me.
âHow should I know? I justââ
âMaybe I need a straitjacket to calm me down. Or an injection of Valium.â
âMaybe you need some more nails,â he said.
âTell me again what I do tonight,â I said nervously.
âYou have to announce Cam, the feature, and Tucker Jones, the headliner. When they arrive, ask them how they want to be introduced. At the end of the show thank our sponsor, the Amber Hills Hotel, remind the audience to fill out the comment card on the table, and announce that Martin Evans and Eli Rosenthal are appearing next week. Mention that Eliâs been on Showtime.â
âIâll be lucky if I remember my own name,â I said, horrified.
The club was starting to fill up when a guy in a baseball cap walked up to me.
âI didnât think Iâd ever see you again,â Cam said, surprised.
âIâm hosting the show. Can you believe it? I won the
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