Finally, she heard “Cut.” She pulled up the covers. A wardrobe girl handed her the robe, and she slipped into it and sat on the bed.
Walter approached the two of them, a strange smile on his face. “Did you not hear me?” he asked Maddy.
“What do you mean?”
“I said ‘Cut’ a few minutes ago.”
“No!” Maddy spun to Billy. “Did you hear it?”
“Yeah,” he said. “But when you didn’t, I figured Walter would probably want us to keep going.”
“Bridget, did you hear?” she called.
Bridget nodded. “It’s okay,” she said. “That was the best one.” Maddy couldn’t believe she’d been so wrapped up in the scene that she’d lost her hearing, lost her sense of space.
“Please do not be embarrassed,” Juhasz said. “It’s good that you continued. You two were electric.”
Alone in her dressing room, she sat in a daze. She was not the kind of actress to lose her senses in performance. During plays she would hear sneezes, candy wrappers. She was always aware of her surroundings even in the moment. It was as though they had played a monstrous trick on her, wanting to embarrass her.
Steven worked late at Woodmere that night, a production meeting involving Bridget, Walter, and other key staff members. She crossed paths with him a few times, but he said he didn’t have time to talk.
When he arrived in the town house bedroom past midnight, he undressed silently, turning his back to Maddy. She put her hand on his shoulder and he jumped. “What is it?” she asked.
“I saw the dailies,” he said.
“Yes?”
“I could hear Walter saying ‘Cut,’ and you kept going. You were overheated to the point of deafness.”
“I was acting. It’s what I do.”
“You looked unprofessional.”
“I was just in the scene. You have to get past it, Steven. There’s a week more of sex scenes to go.”
“And I’m sure you’re looking forward to them.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Are you attracted to him?”
“He’s a good-looking guy. But I’m in love with you.”
“Maybe you should be with Billy instead of me.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying.” Out of all people, he had to understand what it was like to do a sex scene. “Come on, Steven. I shouldn’t have to explain this.”
“You disrespected me.” His lips were thin and old and she could see the shine on the lower one as she had at the Entertainer, when Kira postulated about his sexuality.
“Why are you being like this?”
“Because I care! You should know that jealousy is a sign of that. You said it on Torcello.”
“I know, but there’s nothing to be jealous of here—”
“Why did you do this to me?” His jealousy was so insecure and boyish. It wasn’t befitting of a powerful man. It seemed almost like an act. “Your only job was to get through the day professionally. And you failed.”
She dashed into one of the guest rooms and she sobbed into a pillow. She had imagined him leaving her many times, but not because she had performed too well in a role. Now he was going to end it, and when people asked what had happened, she would have to answer, “I didn’t hear Walter Juhasz call, ‘Cut.’ ” And they would laugh.
The irony was that she had no desire to be unfaithful. Their sex life was great, attentive, and playful. For a middle-aged man, his appetite was big; he was always hard and ready to go a second time. He said no other woman had turned him on this much. Whatever attraction she had to Billy, she didn’t want to act on it. The arousal had been chemical.
After she had finally stopped crying, she went downstairs, got her cell phone, and took it back into the guest room, closing the door. She held the phone in her hand as though not sure whom to call, but she knew she was tricking herself.
“Hi,” she said when Dan answered, and her voice must have been sniffly, because he said, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. It was just a hard shooting day. I’m under too much stress, I think.”
“What happened?”
“Steven got jealous after a sex scene.”
“That’s moronic,” Dan said.
“It was maybe too much for him. It wouldn’t have been as bad if he weren’t producing.”
She fluffed up some pillows behind her head, remembering the long phone calls she and Dan used to have at the beginning, when he was courting her, when she fell asleep with the phone in her hand, or he did. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he said.
“I guess it’s a lot at once. First movie, starring opposite Steven, tons of sex. If it were one of the three, it would be enough.”
“I’m sure he’ll get over his jealousy,” he said. “He’s a professional.”
“Anyway,” she said, “tell me what’s going on with you. Are you in Savannah?” She had read in the trades that he’d signed on for another romantic weepie, The Inscription, also produced by Worldwide Films.
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s actually crazy that you caught me. I’m on a break right now.”
“I should let you go,” she said.
“No, I’m glad you called,” he said. “I thought we might be communicating through lawyers from now on.”
After her ill-fated coffee with Dan in the spring, she had taken the Nest assignment of rights to Edward Rosenman, who had worked out a collaboration agreement with Dan’s lawyer, the one he had hired after he fired the one who drafted the assignment. She would get costory credit on any version of The Nest that got made, and a third of any purchase price. She felt that the deal was fair to generous, but worried that Dan felt she had been greedy.
“No need to,” she said. “We came to terms. Did you guys finish the screenplay?”
“We’re getting really close.”
“Do you have a new title?”
“Yes, but it’s not locked, so I’m going to keep it secret.”
“Never say ‘locked,’ ” she said. “You sound like a real operator.”
“Never say ‘operator.’ You sound like you’re in a Rosalind Russell movie.”
“Right now I wish I was in a Rosalind Russell movie.”
“Good luck with the sex,” he said. “And tell Steven he’s not allowed to give you a hard time about fake coitus. The guy’s fake slept with hundreds of women.” After they got off the phone, she cradled it in her hand as if Dan were still there.
“I told you she was young,” Steven said. He and Bridget were walking side by side in the gardens of Woodmere.
“You’re making too much of it,” Bridget said, removing a silver cigarette case from her purse. She lit the cigarette and blew the smoke out of her nose.
“How could she do that? ‘Cut,’ ‘cut,’ and ‘cut’ again. Even Billy didn’t break.”
“He was going along with the scene.”
“I can’t have these shenanigans on my film.”
“Are you taking care of her the way you should be?” she asked. They had stopped at a fountain. In the center was a naked girl with no arms, water spitting out of her mouth.
“Everything is fine in that department. Better than fine.”
“I’m taking your word for that,” Bridget said, “but put yourself in her position anyway. She’s without her family, without friends, carrying the movie. This is an incredibly masochistic role. And you’re her support system. When she comes home at night, she needs to be taken care of, like a princess. Bathed, massaged, loved. Rise above this. Remember how old you are and the things you’ve seen.”