VI.
After opening night, Celeste woke me with a very early phone call.
“Good morning, sunshine! How was your night?”
“Late,” I mumbled. “What time is it?”
“Eight o’clock. Time for you to read your morning paper.”
“Oh! The reviews are in, aren’t they?”
“Go see for yourself,” Celeste suggested. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait here.”
After a minute, I’d found the paper and returned to the phone.
“Well . . .” Celeste urged.
“I’m afraid . . .”
“Don’t be a twit, Kate. Read the damn paper.”
It was the first page of the entertainment section. The photo was from the first scene of Act One. I was smiling wickedly as I held part of Henry’s beard between two fingers. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth formed a small o of pain.
MUCH ADO ABOUT BEATRICE
Soon after the light from one great actor’s career has set, the dawn of another’s has begun. Katherine Wells made her debut performance as Much Ado About Nothing’s Beatrice last night. After the loss, over a year ago, of Alistair Irving, the World’s Stage Players have lacked a figurehead. That is, until last night where Ms. Wells ruled the stage as if she in fact was the only one on it.
“Is this a joke?”
“Don’t stop reading.”
This is not to speak less of the rest of the performers. On the contrary, WSP has proved yet again that they are among the best theatre companies in the country. But in Ms. Wells, they have struck a rich vein of gold. At just nineteen, this young actress has just begun, yet she carries herself with such dignity and assurance that you would think she is a veteran. In Katherine Wells, the WSP have found a star.
“I’m a star?”
“You’re a star, baby!”
Amid fielding a dozen such calls, I was asked to meet with Edward Zwick at his office.
“Well, aren’t you just the bright shining star?”
”Stop, please. My head is swelled up so big I could barely squeeze it into the car to get over here.”
“Are you happy?”
“Delighted.”
“Excellent. I wanted to tell you that the company has decided to use your fame to the best of their ability. We want to offer you the plumpest roles in the next four shows.”
Blood rushed to me head. I could barely contain myself. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll do it. I want to secure you as our star before your swelled head floats you out of my office and into another company.”
“Of course, Edward.”
“Good. After the current show ends, we’d like to move you into Lady MacBeth. Nothing shows acting genius like playing crazy. After that we’d like you to be Portia in The Merchant of Venice. Then you’ll be playing your namesake, Katherine, in The Taming of the Shrew—“
“No. Absolutely not.”
“What? What is the problem?”
“I just won’t do it, Edward. I have entirely no interest in playing the shrew. I’m only going to use my star power on this one thing. I’m putting my foot down.”
Zwick sighed and shook his head. “Okay, if that’s what you want. Do you have objection to playing Ophelia?”
“None.”
“Excellent. Now, if you could just keep your giant head from toppling you out of the chair, I’d like you to sign a few contracts . . .”
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