Famous by Stan Charnofsky

Author:Stan Charnofsky [Charnofsky, Stan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Business & Economics/Industries/Entertainment/Family & Relationships/Love & Romance/Young Adult Fiction/Literary
Publisher: Stan Charnofsky
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

SIX

H e had no compulsion to let his parents in on the good news. Oh, he would tell them, but it wasn’t a priority. Juliet had to know. Katy had to know. Certainly Mr. Benjamin would have to.

The financial understanding took only five minutes, Harry not sensing any position of power; he knew that the company was desperate to get into rehearsal. They offered him a run-of-the-show contract for six-hundred dollars a week, told him they could figure out a way to get around the equity requirements—a waiver of some kind—and also assured him they would provide pre or post show meals, depending on whether it was a matinee or evening performance.

The money was not an issue for Harry. He was ecstatic. It was an opening and a remarkable part, in one of the great plays in American stage history.

While Harry had no lack of confidence about his acting skills, from his teens on he doubted that he had the looks of a leading man. He was five feet ten, taller than Tom Cruise, but nowhere near as tall as he would like. His hair curled too much, like one of the Marx brothers, the one, he thought, who couldn’t (or didn’t) speak—it did not seem manly to have a bird’s nest of little ringlets crowning his head. His eyebrows were thick, too thick, like a couple of dark caterpillars shading his eyes. He liked his posture, straight and linear, with no scoliosis or humps in his back, but he longed for the kind of butt the girls gossiped about—his was flat, which made his jeans appear too baggy. An appealing aspect, which he failed to acknowledge, was the remnant of freckles on his nose and cheeks, left over from childhood—nothing like the overall dotting of the teenaged Lindsay Lohan, but nonetheless a notable trait.

All in all, he was modest enough not to realize his more than adequate physical appeal. Juliet, unwilling as she was to give him too much come-on, never spoke of his looks, though he had to know from their regular liaisons that she was attracted to him. When Katy said, on more than one occasion, “You’re a fox, Harry Schiff,” he either couldn’t hear it or dismissed it as friendship flattery.

He wore on his face a constant apologetic look, of which he was unaware, which disarmed those he met, or the fans at one of his performances; he seemed, without knowing it, eminently trustworthy.

This was the package he brought to auditions to augment his acknowledged talent and very likely what Brian De Genera saw. It gave him, once he was on scene, a warm and magnetic presence.

“Oh, Harry, I’m totally thrilled for you!” Katy said. “Mine was a one-time shot, but yours is a real job, a wonderful opportunity.” She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and hug him passionately, and…whatever else seemed reasonable. Instead she offered a friendly embrace, which she knew was reasonable, and which he returned amiably, with a beatific grin.

“I just left there two hours ago.

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