Susanna Sees Stars by Mary Hogan

Author:Mary Hogan [Hogan, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780857077257
Publisher: Simon & Schuster

The police are incredibly kind. They don’t push or shove. They merely appear, one at each elbow, and gently guide me off the set.

‘Was that me screaming?’ I ask, mortified.

‘Yes, hon, that was you.’

Trying to salvage a shred of dignity, I mutter, ‘I dropped my clipboard.’ Then, by way of a lame explanation, I add, ‘I’ve been in love with Randall Sanders since I was ten years old.’

‘That’s nice.’

The police don’t arrest me or anything. They do, however, escort me to the end of the block, to the other side of the barricades, and tell me that they will arrest me if I show up on the set again. Keith Franklin, I notice, is nowhere to be seen.

‘Where do you live?’ one of the officers asks.

‘Horatio Street,’ I mumble.

‘Perfect timing,’ the other officer says. ‘Here comes the downtown bus.’

‘But—’

Again, they don’t shove me, but I do feel a tight squeeze on my arms as the bus door opens and I’m practically lifted onto the step. Before I have a chance to fish out my MetroCard, the bus driver nods at one of the officers and waves me past the fare box. Apparently, perps don’t have to pay.

‘Thank you,’ I say to the police, though I don’t know why. They did just derail my fledgling career.

The bus door closes behind me and an officer taps it twice as if to say, ‘Take her away. She’s your problem now.’ Red-faced, I stumble to the only open seat – at the rear. On my way to the back of the bus, I feel everyone’s eyes on me in the sly way New Yorkers stare: beginning with your shoes, they take in every detail of your being – including manicure (or lack of one) and estimated price of haircut – without overtly looking at you at all. The New York brain is trained to process people instantly. Just the way everyone on this downtown bus is processing me right now. I feel them all calculating what crime I’ve just committed.

‘Excuse me,’ I murmur, as I squeeze into a two-seater nearly filled by a large man’s double-wide butt. I never would have wedged into such an intimate seating situation had I not been feeling so humiliated. But, I’m too distraught to stand. All I want to do is burrow into the seat and stare at my white leather Keds (from Costco – which the passengers have already judged as lame).

How could I be so stupid? Yelling out Randall Sanders’ name – out loud! How could my mouth work without a brain? Is there no end to the ways in which I can humiliate myself? Plus, Keith trusted me. How could I let him down when he’d spent the day helping me?

Sinking into the seat, I wonder, did I blow Keith’s cover? Was he escorted off the set, too? Will Randall Sanders refuse to talk to Scene magazine again? Will Keith get in trouble? Will I be fired?

My mouth is so dry I gag each time I try to swallow.

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