Page 37 of The Small-Town Seduction Plan

“Ohmygod, is that Avery Lawrence?”

I turn to find the kids have spotted us. Half of them have their phones out, texting furiously, and the other half– the male half– are just staring, slack-jawed.

“Sorry,” I wince. “I don’t want to be a distraction. I’ll just go?—”

“Nonsense!” Suze cuts me off. “Why don’t you stay and say ‘hi’? They might get their shit together, if they have someone to impress. Hey, everyone!” she calls, beckoning the group over before I can protest. “We have a real actress here. What did you think of their scene, Avery?”

I gulp. Way to put me on the spot!

“Well, it could use some work…” I start, tactful. “Maybe you need to take a step back, and think about the meaning of the scene. What’s it really about?”

Shaggy-Hair shrugs. Preppy Girl sticks her hand up. “He’s declaring his love for her,” she says loudly.

“Well, yes,” I agree. “But he’s also trying to get laid.”

There’s surprised laughter. I smile. “Look, just because the language is fancy, it doesn’t mean the plays aren’t about real things. Loyalty, revenge, and yes, sex. Romeo just met Juliet, he’s infatuated, and he’s trying to spend the night. ‘Wouldst thou leave me so unsatisfied?’” I quote. They giggle again. “And Juliet, she’s playing coy. Here’s this guy talking a big game, but she doesn’t know if she can believe him. It can be playful, not just dramatic.”

Preppy Girl sticks up her hand again. “But how do you stop feeling awkward? The language is so old-fashioned and weird."

“You have to forget about looking stupid,” I tell them. “The point of acting is to get out of your own head, so that doesn’t matter anymore. You’re not the one saying these things, the character is. Play around, try it a bunch of different ways,” I urge her. “When I’m shooting a scene for a movie, sometimes we’ll run it ten, or twenty times before it’s right. That’s what rehearsals are for, you find the unexpected moments.”

More hands go up, and soon I’m fielding all kinds of questions about life in Hollywood, and what really happens on a movie set. I answer them all as best– and age-appropriately– as I can, until Suze finally cuts them off.

“OK, guys, that’s enough. We’re out of time– and I think Avery’s had enough of us. Thank her for all her expert advice,” she adds. It takes a few minutes for the kids to take their selfies and disperse, but finally, we’re left alone.

I let out a breath, helping Suze collect the discarded script pages. “Wow, that was…”

“Exhausting?” she finishes. “Vaguely traumatizing? Makes you fear for the future of our country?”

“I was going to say ‘fun’,” I grin. “But yes, all of the above. They seem like good kids, though,” I add, “Once they stop trying to impress each other, I mean.”

“Well, you really helped focus them on the play again,” Suze says, looking impressed. “I haven’t seen them so interested in acting techniques since I promised free snacks to whoever learned their lines first. Speaking of which, I owe you for this. Ice-cream? Cookies? Salt-water taffy?” she offers, gesturing around at the collection of kitschy food stores all a stone’s throw away.

“Ice-cream sounds great,” I decide, so we go load up on double-chocolate-chip cones, them find a spot on the beach, where the gentle curve of the bay is packed with tourists, enjoying the breeze.

“You grew up here, didn’t you?” I ask, settling cross-legged on the sand.

Suze kicks off her sandals and leans back, relaxing. “Born and raised.”

“Duke is too, right?” I ask casually. Despite all my research and distractions, I haven’t forgotten about the scene with the paparazzi this morning – or Duke’s wildcard offer.

Who is this man, really?

“Oh, yeah. Duke’s a lifer.” Suze licks her ice-cream. “He left for college, and that whole Rachel incident, but he’s Cape Cod through and through.”

“Rachel?” I look over.

“His ex,” Suze replies. “They were together for years, even got engaged, but then she turned out to be a cheating bitch, so that was the end of that.”

I blink. Duke was engaged?

“Is that why he’s so… prickly?” I venture curiously. “He’s still nursing a broken heart?”

I feel a pang of sympathy for the man – until Suze snorts with laughter. “God no, that was years ago!” she exclaims. “And it didn’t come soon enough, if you ask me. Duke was running himself ragged, trying to keep her happy. He’s way better off without her. I know he can be a grouch sometimes, but he’s a really good guy,” she adds.

“Uh huh,” I reply, still unconvinced. His one chivalrous moment chasing off those photographers this morning doesn’t exactly outweigh the week of grumpy, acrimonious run-ins we’ve been having.

But Suze grins. “You haven’t exactly seen his good side, but he’s solid. He’s never let me down. He’s even helping out with the Shakespeare production,” she adds. “Selflessly giving his time for the community. Supporting the arts, and our future citizens…” she says, fixing me with a hopeful look.

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