Part 2 (1/2)
”Aaaah,” retorted Ivo, with prideful inarticulateness.
However, when at six-thirty that Friday, Paul fell over a wire stretched between the jambs of the doorway leading to his private bathroom and broke a leg, even Ivo was forced to admit that this did not look like an accident.
”Ivo,” Paul wailed when the doctor had left, ”what am I going to do? I refuse to let Gregory go on in my place tonight!”
”Y'gonna hafta,” Ivo said, s.h.i.+fting his gum to the other side of his mouth. ”He's y'unnastudy.”
”But the doctor said it would be weeks before I can get around again.
Either Gregory'll take over the part completely with his interpretation and I'll be left out in the cold, or more likely, he'll louse up the play and it'll fold before I'm on my feet.”
”Y'gotta have more confidence in y'self, kid. The public ain't gonna forgetcha in a few weeks.”
But Paul knew far better than the idealistic Ivo how fickle the public can be. However, he chose an argument that would appeal to the boy.
”Don't forget, he b.o.o.by-trapped me!”
”Cert'ny looks like it,” Ivo was forced to concede. ”But watcha gonna do? Y'can't prove it. 'Sides, the curtain's gonna gwup in a li'l over a nour--”
Paul gripped Ivo's sinewy wrist. ”Ivo, you've got to go on for me!”
”Y'got rocks in y'head or somepin?” Ivo demanded, trying not to look pleased. ”I ain't gotta Nequity card, and even if I did, _he's_ y'unnastudy.”
”No, you don't understand. I don't want you to go on as Ivo Darcy playing Eric Everard. I want you to go on as Paul Lambrequin playing Eric Everard. _You can do it, Ivo!_”
”Good Lord, so I can!” Ivo whispered, temporarily neglecting to mumble.
”I'd almost forgotten.”
”You know my lines, too. You've cued me in my part often enough.”
Ivo rubbed his hand over his forehead. ”Yeah, I guess I do.”
”Ivo,” Paul beseeched him, ”I thought we were--pals. I don't want to ask any favors, but I helped you out when you were in trouble. I always figured I could rely on you. I never thought you'd let me down.”
”An' I won't.” Ivo gripped Paul's hand. ”I'll go on t'night 'n play 'at part like it ain't never been played before! I'll--”
”No! No! Play it the way I played it. You're supposed to be _me_, Ivo!
Forget Strasberg; go back to Stanislavsky.”
”Okay, pal,” Ivo said. ”Will do.”
”And promise me one thing, Ivo. Promise me _you won't mumble_.”
Ivo winced. ”Okay, but you're the on'y one I'd do 'at for.”
Slowly, he began to s.h.i.+mmer. Paul held his breath. Maybe Ivo had forgotten how to trans.m.u.te himself. But technique triumphed over method.
Ivo Darcy gradually coalesced into the semblance of Paul Lambrequin. The show would go on!