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“What are you doing here?” she said.
“I came to run lines.”
“So did I.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, well…” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, shrugged. “I was here first.”
“You were here first? I’ve lived here my entire life.”
She held up her hands as if to say, “what are you going to do about it?”
She was so goddamn cute. She was stunningly beautiful, but sometimes she was just damn cute.
I tapped my script against my leg. “We might as well help each other out. Since we’re both here.”
“Might as well,” she said. “We’re professionals, right? You first. Where are you struggling?”
That’s a loaded question.
“I have a giant monologue at the end of Act Four.”
Willow flipped open her script, her blue eyes scanning the page. Her neck curved elegantly down into her collarbone, and the swell of her breasts beneath her shirt…
Professional. We’re being professional.
She looked up. “How all occasions do inform against me…?”
“That’s the one.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
I got up and started the monologue, pacing the area in front of the windmill. When I finished one shaky run-through, Willow cocked her head. “What’s it about?”
“Hamlet’s ruminating on war and what drives men to risk their lives for it. What’s worth dying for. Honor. He’s saying that Claudius is still the King, his mother is still married to a murderer and he’s done nothing.”
Willow read from my script. “From this time forth, my thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth.”
I nodded. “The time for talk is over. Now he must act and do what’s right for the honor of his family and his name.”
“He should.”
I looked over her and found her watching me softly. “Now my turn.”
I sat down on the bench and she plopped her script in my lap, pointing.
“All these little songs at the end of my mad scene,” she said. “They’re so hard to keep track of. I know I know them, but then I start to second-guess myself.”
“Try this,” I said. “Go to the beginning of the hedge maze and do your stuff as you walk it.”
She scrunched up her face. “How will that help? I’ll be lost and screw up my lines.”
“You just told me you know your lines. Your brain needs something else to worry about. Let the words just come to you while you concentrate on getting through the maze.”
“But how will you cue me?” she asked. “Gertrude and Claudius have a lot to say.”
I shrugged. “You’re going to have to shout and I’ll shout back. That’ll be good practice projecting to the back row.”
