Page 48 of Two Chances With You

“That one was something.”

“Yes, funny and cute too.”

“Yeah, nice job.”

I sit there, watching her, amused like the others. She glances at me, bold and self-confident, by no means intimidated by being onstage in front of everyone with the spotlights focused on her. In fact, she even makes a face at me.

I lean toward Romani. “Excuse me, Dottor Romani…” and he turns around to look at me. “Would you mind if I asked this young lady a question, you know, just to get to know her better?”

He looks at me, curious now. “Would it be a professional question or are you trying to get her phone number?”

“Absolutely work related.”

“Well, then, certainly, that’s why we’re here.”

I sit back down again, I look at her, and I give myself a moment. Then I speak up. “What plans do you have for your future?”

“A husband and lots of little children. If you like, you could be one of the children.”

A full knockout, and I’m on the canvas. Everyone laughs hysterically. They laugh harder than they needed to. Even Romani laughs and looks over at me, spreading his hands as if to say,She got you. And she did. I feel as if I just went into the ring with Mike Tyson. He wouldn’t have hurt me this badly. Okay, as you like it, Gin.

I ignore the others and start up again. “In that case, why are you here auditioning instead of going out in pursuit of this husband?”

Gin looks at me and smiles. She pretends to be a nice, naive young lady and replies with modesty. “Why couldn’t my ideal man be right here, on this sound stage? You seem to be concerned, but really you shouldn’t worry because you, sir, are naturally ruled out of my search from the outset.”

A few more snickers.

“Okay, that’s enough,” says Romani. “Have we heard from everyone?”

“No, actually, I still haven’t introduced myself.”

Gin’s friend, Ele, takes a step forward, making herself known.

“Fine. Then introduce yourself.”

“I’m Eleonora Fiori, twenty years old. I’ve auditioned for a number of shows without much success, but I’m studying industrial design, where I’m doing very well indeed.”

Someone comes out with a stupid wisecrack in a muffled voice. “Then why don’t you just stick to industrial design, in that case?”

It must have been Sesto, the guy from the Cat & the Cat. But no one laughs. At that point, Micheli, the Serpent, looks around. Romani pretends he didn’t hear. And so, of course, does Micheli. Toscani, the other Cat, laughs for a moment. Then, when it becomes clear that it’s not in his best interests, he shuts down the laughter in a sort of faint cough, a fake, improvised hoarse hacking.

“Very good. Thank you, ladies.”

Romani approaches the choreographer, looks at the sheet of paper in his hand, and points to certain names with his forefinger. Then he looks up and comes toward us. “Do you have any preferences?”

I look at the sheet of paper. There are checkmarks by certain of the names. Five or six have already been selected. I look down at the end of the list. There she is. Ginevra Biro already has her checkmark. Incredible but true, Romani and I have the same opinion. Sesto and Toscani pick one each, and Romani lets them have their way. The Serpent actually picks two, but Romani only lets him have one.

Then Mazzocca arrives and puts in his recommendation. “Romani, it might seem absurd to you, but there’s one we absolutely have to take. You might not like her but, if you think about it, picking her would be a flash of genius.”

“Okay, let’s hear it. Which one?”

“She’ll win the hearts of everyone who’s insecure, all those who feel sure they can’t measure up. That’s the one to pick, Romani.”

“Whichone?”

“The last one.”

The Cat & the Cat, followed by the Serpent, pile on, practically in unison. “Booooo.” Romani says nothing, and when the three notice his silence, they pipe down.

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