Sage Wintergreen turned to the last page; the bedroom scene. She screwed her eyes shut. She should have demanded a no nudity clause, no touching even.
‘Ms Wintergreen?’ The stewardess, Mary said the badge, leant over.
Sage settled her face into just the right balance of tired but tolerant. ‘Yes, Mary?’
‘The gentleman in row 6 wonders if you might sign his magazine. For his daughter, of course.’ Mary smiled.
Sage signed and turned to the watching Claire, across the aisle, lifting the script. ‘Was it necessary for there to be a bedroom scene?’
Claire’s expression didn’t change. ‘You said you wanted it all scripted and they’ll have to be a first night sometime.’
‘Sure, but don’t you think I could adlib?’
‘Since when does Sage Wintergreen adlib? You’ve been acting your whole life and everything’s been by the playbook. If you want, of course…’
Sage turned to the window. They would be approaching Rio soon. Juan’s family would be waiting, wondering. She knew the headlines above them kissing (cheeks, no lips, hands above hips): Suave playboy and his famous Holywood bride to be. ‘I don’t think I can do this, Claire.’
‘You always hate first nights. You know it’ll be fine.’
‘Maybe this one will run and run.’ Claire smiled.
‘Saul says a minimum of two years, or the impact will be a twenty-three percent plus drop in my popularity.’
‘You must want longer?’
‘Simone’s was less than that.’
By way of an answer, Claire curved her hand over her stomach. ‘Different script, darling. There are some things you can’t act.’
Sage grimaced. ‘Do you think he wants a sequel?’
‘Maybe a series?’
‘Don’t. Though I’ll tell you one thing this has taught me.’
‘You can’t act happiness.’
This week’s microcosms prompt is Holywood Actress, South America, Drama.