All the World's a Stage

Lavinia tapped her heels on the hardwood floor, keeping herself occupied while she waited for Tom to finish getting ready. Her driver, the one her parents kept on staff, dropped her at Tom’s brownstone on his way home. She had been waiting for nearly an hour, and they were going to be late.

“Are you finished getting all dolled up yet?” she shouted, leaning back against the couch; her eyes fell to the blank ceiling waiting for his response.

“Almost!” her friend shouted back.

About to make fun of him again, Lavinia was distracted by the muffled ring from her clutch. She extracted the cell phone and saw the name of her agent, Jan Whitman, flashing across the screen. She pressed the phone to her ear, excited for what news was to come.

Lavinia stood and began pacing before the coffee table.

“Hello!” she said, biting back a grin.

“Hi, darling, are you all ready for you party tonight?”

The grin cracked. Making small talk always meant that bad news was imminent, but Lavinia played along.

“All ready,” Lavin told her. “Just waiting on Tom.”

Jan laughed airily. Lavinia pictured Jan at her desk, pushing her shock of white hair off her shoulder as she exchanged her phone from one ear to the other.

“Are you wearing the shoes?” she asked.

Lavinia looked down at her feet; the pumps were an ordinary pair of pumps, but sent to her specifically from an up-and-coming designer that adored her from the moment he watched her in the 2008 West End production of That Face.

“Yes, I’m wearing them.” Lavinia held a hand up, silencing the disembodied Jan. “I know what you’re doing, Jan, and I love you for it, but please—just tell me the bad news already.”

Jan exhaled. “The casting director from the audition you went out on last Wednesday—the one for the new TV pilot?”

She nodded her head frantically. “Of course, I know what one you’re talking about because that was the only one I’ve auditioned for this week.”

“They loved you.”

The silent but was born in the pause.

“But,” Jan continued. “They’re going in a different direction.”

Lavinia’s chest tightened, her throat squeezed closed, and her grip on her phone was solid. Through clenched teeth she asked, “Did they give any feedback?”

“Mhm, they said they wanted someone taller and someone with a darker look.”

“Perfect.”

“I’m sorry, honey. You know how these things are.”

“I know,” she said, hoping that she was disguising her disappoint, dejection, and anger.

“Alright, well, I’m gonna do some searching around, get you more auditions, you know,” Jan told her, Lavinia could hear the thick plastic tapping of her agent’s fingernails on her desk. “But, sweetie, I want you to put this out of your head. You’ll be sure to land something before the year is up.”

“Yeah, thanks Jan,” Lavinia answered dispassionately.

“Have a great time tonight. Have fun with Tom, and all your other little friends from school.”

The suggestion was clear in Jan’s voice. Ever since the talent agent found out that Lavinia and Tom were friends she was hoping they would date, it would be a fantastic coupling, good for press, and good for Lavinia’s image. Lavinia, however, was not only friends with Tom because it would benefit her career.

“I’ll try.”

“Okay, darling, have a goodnight.”

“You too, darling,” Lavinia said.

She pulled the phone from her ear and watched the call end. She was unaware of Tom coming out of his bedroom, fixing his cuffs, about to open his mouth when Lavinia flung her phone into the back of his couch.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Literally nothing is going on. Jan just called to tell me that they loved my audition, but wanted someone taller, and darker,” Lavinia’s voice pitched an octave higher, “What does that even mean, hmm?” She shot Tom a dark look.

Tom stared, mouth falling open in surprise.

“Taller? They could put lifts in my shoes; put me in platform heels, right?” She looked at Tom again; he quickly nodded his head in agreement. “I mean, Robert Downey Jr. is short and they let him be fucking Iron Man. And what does darker even mean? Skin color? Hair color? They could have died my hair, I’m open to that. I just don’t understand what’s going on with me lately. I thought getting that part on Downton would give me some exposure, but nope. Did I do something to someone in a past life? Is it bad karma? Is my father putting voodoo spells on me in his study because he hates my choice of career?”

Lavinia arms were spread wide open, begging a higher being to come down at take her away. She felt the weight of Tom’s hands on her shoulders; he squeezed her back into reality.

“You’re being a tad irrational,” Tom said lightly.

“You’re being a tad obvious,” Lavinia mocked him as she stepped out of his hold and swiped her phone from the couch. She stuffed it into her clutch, looked into the mirror over Tom’s fireplace, and pressed her fingertips into the roots of her dark blonde hair. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” she said, moving away from the mirror. She tapped Tom on the cheek. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Get this over with,” Tom repeated, rushing after her. “Where is the excited Lavin that walked into my apartment an hour ago?” She ignored him. He looped an arm through hers as they trekked down the icy front steps of his townhouse; he shot her a toothy grin. “We’ll have fun tonight.”

“You promise?” The ice in her voice was ebbing away.

“I promise.”

Tom opened the passenger door, Lavinia slid in, and she watched him skip over the snow piles the plows had made this morning as he moved to the driver’s side of the car. “I like the blazer by the way,” he said once he shut the door. “Very male-chic, if I may.”

Lavin laughed. “Male-chic? Is that an actual thing?”

“No,” Tom said, “but it made you laugh.”

Lavin stopped laughing and went to playing with the radio knobs. “You know, I am excited for this party. It’ll be good to see people from school. And maybe someone will magically present me with a project they want me to be in.”

“That’s the spirit!” Tom said, pulling out into the street.