have a chance in the movies without a more classic profile. Now, tell me all about Hollywood.”
As he signaled to the waiter, she launched into a narrative that would have made Narcissus blush.
“Summer stock was unbelievable. I mean, not only did I get to do
Streetcar
and
Our Town,
but our final production was
Romeo and Juliet.
Joe Papp actually came backstage and spoke to me.”
“Gosh, that’s marvelous,” Sandy remarked, but with a sense of unworthiness and loss. For he realized he was no longer in the same league as Rochelle Taubman. All summer he had merely watched, while she had
been
watched.
“Come on,” she coaxed, “I’m waiting for your news. What’s your father got on tap?”
He told her all about the studio, the apes. About “Frankie.”
“And,” he concluded, “it looks like ‘Frankie’ is a ‘go’ project.”
“That sounds brilliant,” she enthused. “Have they cast the female lead?”
“Actually, there isn’t one in the story, that I know of.”
“Really?” she responded. “But
Variety
says it’s gonna be a musical. There’s got to be a female lead. But what am I getting so excited about? It’s bound to be Julie Andrews.”
“I could always ask my father,” Sandy offered generously.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose on you.” She pounced like an amorous leopard. “All I’d ever accept is a screen test—the rest would be up to him.”
Then she lowered her head and murmured apologetically, “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t be exploiting our friendship.”
“No, no, no,” he tried to dissuade her. “What else are friends for? I’ll call him tonight.”
“Oh, you really are a beautiful person,” she added joyously. “Call me any time after you speak to him. I’ll be sitting by the phone.”
For the first time since they had met in kindergarten, Sandy Raven walked down the street with the unswerving certitude that of all possible telephone calls, Rochelle would be waiting most anxiously for
his.
The news Sidney conveyed was bittersweet. Bitter for himself, but sweet for her.
It seemed the studio was retrenching and Mr. Z. had qualms about putting money into yet another big musical, even though he had loved the concept of “Frankie.”
And yet, developing three other projects for Mr. Z., Sid was confident that he could arrange for Rochelle to audition for the Fox Players’ School. This was less an academy than a collection of exquisitely beautiful, potential matinee idols and heartthrobs being groomed for stardom by the studio.
The next time they interviewed in New York, he would see to it that his son’s inamorata would be auditioned.
She was unrestrained in her gratitude. “Oh Sandy,” she gushed on the telephone, “I wish you were here—I’d throw my arms around you and give you a big kiss.”
I can always come over, he thought. But he didn’t say it.
Sid Raven was true to his word. That winter, when the scouts from Fox were next on the East Coast, they not only interviewed Rochelle, but gave her a screen test. They decided that “though she’s a little skimpy in the boob department”—this was a confidential memo—she came across as an appealing personality, if not a convincing actress. But for her looks alone, she was certainly worth accepting for the studio’s drama school on a three-year trial.
In her haste to depart for California, Rochelle somehow could not find time to contact Sandy. But when her jet had taken off and she had five hours to while away before she reached the land of the mirage merchants, she dashed off a note on TWA stationery, concluding, “For all the wonderful things you’ve done for me, I’ll never forget you.”
And yet, after alighting at Los Angeles Airport, she somehow neglected to mail the letter.
8
ADAM
They had called Toni’s flight.
“Adam,” she kept repeating like a litany, “if you want me to, I’ll gladly stay.”
“That’s okay, Toni,” he said, as if trying to prove his
As he signaled to the waiter, she launched into a narrative that would have made Narcissus blush.
“Summer stock was unbelievable. I mean, not only did I get to do
Streetcar
and
Our Town,
but our final production was
Romeo and Juliet.
Joe Papp actually came backstage and spoke to me.”
“Gosh, that’s marvelous,” Sandy remarked, but with a sense of unworthiness and loss. For he realized he was no longer in the same league as Rochelle Taubman. All summer he had merely watched, while she had
been
watched.
“Come on,” she coaxed, “I’m waiting for your news. What’s your father got on tap?”
He told her all about the studio, the apes. About “Frankie.”
“And,” he concluded, “it looks like ‘Frankie’ is a ‘go’ project.”
“That sounds brilliant,” she enthused. “Have they cast the female lead?”
“Actually, there isn’t one in the story, that I know of.”
“Really?” she responded. “But
Variety
says it’s gonna be a musical. There’s got to be a female lead. But what am I getting so excited about? It’s bound to be Julie Andrews.”
“I could always ask my father,” Sandy offered generously.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose on you.” She pounced like an amorous leopard. “All I’d ever accept is a screen test—the rest would be up to him.”
Then she lowered her head and murmured apologetically, “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t be exploiting our friendship.”
“No, no, no,” he tried to dissuade her. “What else are friends for? I’ll call him tonight.”
“Oh, you really are a beautiful person,” she added joyously. “Call me any time after you speak to him. I’ll be sitting by the phone.”
For the first time since they had met in kindergarten, Sandy Raven walked down the street with the unswerving certitude that of all possible telephone calls, Rochelle would be waiting most anxiously for
his.
The news Sidney conveyed was bittersweet. Bitter for himself, but sweet for her.
It seemed the studio was retrenching and Mr. Z. had qualms about putting money into yet another big musical, even though he had loved the concept of “Frankie.”
And yet, developing three other projects for Mr. Z., Sid was confident that he could arrange for Rochelle to audition for the Fox Players’ School. This was less an academy than a collection of exquisitely beautiful, potential matinee idols and heartthrobs being groomed for stardom by the studio.
The next time they interviewed in New York, he would see to it that his son’s inamorata would be auditioned.
She was unrestrained in her gratitude. “Oh Sandy,” she gushed on the telephone, “I wish you were here—I’d throw my arms around you and give you a big kiss.”
I can always come over, he thought. But he didn’t say it.
Sid Raven was true to his word. That winter, when the scouts from Fox were next on the East Coast, they not only interviewed Rochelle, but gave her a screen test. They decided that “though she’s a little skimpy in the boob department”—this was a confidential memo—she came across as an appealing personality, if not a convincing actress. But for her looks alone, she was certainly worth accepting for the studio’s drama school on a three-year trial.
In her haste to depart for California, Rochelle somehow could not find time to contact Sandy. But when her jet had taken off and she had five hours to while away before she reached the land of the mirage merchants, she dashed off a note on TWA stationery, concluding, “For all the wonderful things you’ve done for me, I’ll never forget you.”
And yet, after alighting at Los Angeles Airport, she somehow neglected to mail the letter.
8
ADAM
They had called Toni’s flight.
“Adam,” she kept repeating like a litany, “if you want me to, I’ll gladly stay.”
“That’s okay, Toni,” he said, as if trying to prove his
Similar Books
