Andrew’s First Act E-Book

Sunshine Rodgers

• Herausgeber: RWG Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

"I'm fine. I'm fine," I say as if repeating myself might make it true. I adjust my bright green tie in the mirror and pat down my hair, hoping the gel will keep it in place.
 
"Listen. Just perform your material like you've practiced. It's all good stuff! I will be waiting for you at the side exit and I'll be watching from the back. You'll do great!" Sunnie tries to assure me, but I detect a nervous tone in her voice.
 
I hear a faint knock and then a young man wearing headphones and holding a clipboard opens the door. "Andrew Masterson. You are on in 20," he announces.
"I'm going to go." Sunnie gives my arm a tight squeeze. "You've got this!" She flashes me a quick smile and then leaves me to my rushing mind and screaming anxiety.
 
I hear a loud speaker announce my name. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, give a round of applause for our next comedian. Mr. Andrew Masterson."
 

Leseprobe

ANDREW’S FIRST ACT

BY SUNSHINE RODGERS

Copyright © 2021 by Sunshine Rodgers

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Andrew’s First Act

Chapter One

“Andrew Masterson was inspiring in his jokes and comedic timing....”

Travis Rodgers | Andrew Masterson | Claire Adams | Brian Spears

Chapter Two

EXCLUSIVE CONTRACT BETWEEN

Talent/Performer | ANDREW MASTERSON

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Travis Rodgers | Allen Hunt | Claire Adams | Tommy Bergert

Chapter Seven

BOOKS BY SUNSHINE RODGERS | Nonfiction

Children’s Books

Fiction

SNEAK PEEK: CHAPTER ONE | THE CHARACTERS WITHIN | CHAPTER ONE

Sign up for Sunshine Rodgers's Mailing List

About the Publisher

Dedicated to the real Andrew Masterson!

Never lose your passion and zeal for life!

Chapter One

I read over the review for the 15th time and get excited all over again. 

“Andrew Masterson was inspiring in his jokes and comedic timing....”

Though the reporter of The Sunset Gazette mentioned other names in his piece, the one adjective he used about me confirms my clearly memorable stage presence.

Of course, Sunnie says encouraging things like that to me all the time. She shows me support with a pat on the back, a smile across the room or verbal praise before showtime.

Sunnie Roden is the hand I hold, the voice in my head and the rock I lean on as my Agent and Manager but so many times I become annoyed at all her little quirks: the way she pulls out strands of her hair and talks while eating, and no matter where she is...she has to be smoking!

I don’t think I would recognize her without a cigarette dangling from her mouth.

Sunnie’s already thinning hair isn’t leaving much room for her self-abuse but this afternoon at the diner, she yanks another strand out of her long locks.

“I think you should get rid of your BLURRY PICTURES joke. I don’t think it’s getting any laughs.” Sunnie stirs her black coffee with a plastic spoon. 

Winston’s Place is our go-to diner located off London Street and 3rd. We requested our usual booth by the back window. Not only is breakfast served all day, but the place is never that crowded, and the servers tend to leave us alone during our business meetings.

I quickly glance at the odd-looking cat shaped clock on the wall, its yellow eyes moving to and fro as the customers walk past it. The belly of the feline shows the time. It is 1:30 pm which is a little earlier than my normal wake up time of 3:00 pm.

Since I started this comedy career, I can’t ever seem to get a good night’s sleep! I’m either too excited from performing a live show like a jolt of caffeine struck my nerves or I toss and turn wondering what other people thought of my jokes.

I have a recurring nightmare where people in the audience are booing me and I run offstage.

That’s my biggest fear...the hecklers!

I hate the idea of being despised by my peers, unwanted on that stage or told that my jokes aren’t funny and that I shouldn't be a comedian.

But I am here today on official business. Of course, Sunnie attempts to make our time together as fun and social as possible. 

“Saturday night is a big night for you. RockTV is filming an episode with local stand-up comedians which will air on the Barton Cable Access Channel. Travis Rodgers and Claire Adams will be performing as well. Oh, and Allen Hunt, too. The event is predicted to draw a big crowd.” Sunnie shifts her coffee cup to the side and pats down her mouth with a napkin.

I groan loudly. “Why do I keep performing at the same venues as Allen Hunt? He doesn’t even have any real talent! He’s such a - - -!!”

“Andrew! Focus!” Sunnie points at me as if she is reprimanding a spoiled child.

“I know...” I act defensive. “But you have to admit, he’s not even funny. Allen’s only popular because his father is well-known from that show all those years ago.”

Our waitress approaches our table to collect my now empty plate and smiles politely at me.

“Andrew!” Sunnie snaps at me to get my attention. “Like I was saying...Saturday night all the comedians will be performing at The Centre Plaza. That venue can hold up to 600 people! You’ve never performed with that large of a crowd before!” She plucks another hair from her head, a tic caused by her instinctual worry. 

“What are you so concerned about? What do you think is going to happen?” I ask with a shrug as I sink lower into my seat. 

Sunnie gives me a sideways smirk, a look I know all too well.

Of course, I know exactly what she thinks might happen.

Just 16 hours before this late lunch, it happened once again. The thing I hate most with every fiber of my being...

**********************

The Circle Star Room was decked out in bright pastel colors, the small tables covered in white and pink tablecloths. Only 50 people sat in attendance for the comedy event staged at the Wilkshire Hotel.

The servers passed around small plates of baby carrots and cucumber sandwiches sponsored by Hudson’s Vegan Eatery, a local cafe.

There was a small stage with a baby blue curtain used as a backdrop for the performers.

My set was for the 9:30 pm time slot and there were 3 other comedians scheduled for the night including but not surprisingly Jordan Hudson, the son of the owner of Hudson’s Vegan Eatery whose performance flopped.  I felt embarrassed for him as he dragged his feet off the stage. 

I stood in the adjacent room as my Agent gave me last-minute instructions. “Don’t look anybody in the eyes. Just talk to the back wall. I will be waiting by the exit.” Sunnie was wearing her hair in a braid with a brown headpiece to cover her massive forehead wrinkles.

I glanced down at my cheat sheet, notes typed up with one word representing a particular joke.

I desperately read through the list for the 100th time, hoping I will be able to remember the wording, the order, the timing and of course, the joke itself.

BLURRY PICTURES

POST OFFICE

SOCIAL MEDIA

I.T.

SONG

DUCKS

NOTE TO SELF: PAUSE FOR LAUGHTER

I looked up from my script. “Do you think my routine is a little...juvenile? I mean, I don’t think this is any good...” I bite my nails, a filthy habit I’m trying to break but an automatic reaction when my nerves take over.

“Andrew! You have to trust me.” Sunnie snatched the script out of my hands, placed the cheat sheet in my jacket pocket and looked me square in the eyes. “Do you trust me?” Her face was so close to mine I was engulfed in her cloud of cigarette odor, forced to hold my breath for several seconds, hoping the air will clear before my next intake of oxygen.

I heard my name being called from the stage and I jumped up and down a couple of times to get hyped up. I opened the door to the main reception area and walked on stage. I situated my black jacket, grabbed the microphone and stared at the audience, noticing the apathetic attendees taking selfies of each other, totally oblivious to my arrival in the room.

I delivered my first joke as casually as I could, trying to calm my racing heart.

"I remember one Christmas our family got together, and we had the usual celebration. We watched movies and my mom and sister made gingerbread cookies. And my mom suggested we go through some old photo albums as a way to bring about some Christmas spirit. So, she flopped down these falling apart folders with moths flying out and opened the pages. I saw discolored pictures of my sister and I when we were babies and half torn black and white pictures taped up and blurry images of our dog running outside in the snow. Why do we keep these horrible looking pictures? Are we supposed to be impressed by the way the image has turned orange and the corners have folded up? Are we supposed to look at them and say, "I can barely see dad and my sister looks nauseous and my face looks blurry. We should really hang this picture up on our wall or frame it somehow...for posterity reasons!"

I performed my joke flawlessly, or so I thought. No laughter emerged from the audience. Just a few snickers and a very audible yawn.

Some people who were sitting at a nearby table started talking over my act as if their discussion of hemp material and vegan meals was more interesting than my comedic rantings.

I stayed focused and transitioned into my next joke only to hear what I dread the most.

“Get off the stage!” A man screamed from the table on my left as he waved his champagne glass up in the air, spilling the drink on his unsuspecting tablemates. 

A wave of fear, of dread, of doubt gripped me, overwhelming me.

And I couldn’t speak.

I couldn’t remember my joke.

Sweat was pouring down; the room spinning. 

And I did exactly what that unknown stranger shouted for me to do and I quickly left the stage...

***************************

I snap out of my memory as Sunnie is giving me her big never give up speech.  “Andrew, your routine is golden. Stick to what is best! Everyone can relate to classes and being a kid. Just stop questioning yourself and go out there and do what you love!”

“What if I can’t...” I bite my nails out of habit.

“Andrew, listen to me. Are you listening to me? You did fantastic at the smaller venues. Reporters at The Sunset Gazette wrote you rave reviews! But I need you to step up your game. You can’t keep performing at local coffee houses or open mic nights. You’re better than that. I have to push you so you can grow as a professional.”

“But...” I argue. “My fans love me at those smaller clubs! No hecklers. No complaints. All praise and cheers from the audience.”

Sunnie looks at me, unimpressed. “So, you can wow a 15-seat crowd. Big deal. You discover if you have what it takes on the big stage. You want to be a professional comedian, don’t you? It’s time to take the training wheels off.”

She pays the waitress, making sure to leave a sizeable tip and gives me a quick side hug before leaving the diner and finding her spot by the outside wall to light another cigarette.

I wave goodbye as I process Sunnie’s words, maneuvering past the mesh of people on the sidewalk.

One man in a black hoodie shoves past me. I smell trash from a dumpster or quite possibly nearby roadkill. The traffic lights blink yellow as a gathering of New Yorkers cross the road, halfway believing the cars will stop if we all make a collective decision to cross the busy street together.

I do some quick shopping at the local Grab ‘N Go, picking up some gum and toothpaste and a handful of chocolate peanut butter cups for later.

I bundle up my red blazer, the temperature dropping as the sun sets. I walk past a small park where it looks like a band is performing. I notice the sign: The Kincaid Band.

I know that band. I see Bill Kincaid and the guitarist, drummer and lead singer around town performing often at bars and clubs. I follow The Kincaid Band on social media and have become quite a fan of their music.

I immediately recognize Bill on stage as he sings loudly through the microphone:

♪ ♬ It’s getting cold outside, baby.

But let me warm you up by the fire!

I want you girl. It’s like a burning desire! ♪ ♫

Bill closes his eyes as if enjoying the moment of his song, his passion radiating through the microphone.

Of course, they are famous... I think to myself as I listen to a few more songs. They don’t let anyone get in their way...

A crowd gravitates around the stage and even more gather to dance to the music. 

I walk over to the band’s merchandise table which showcases a collection of T-shirts, magnets, hats, bumper stickers and signed CD's for sale.

I leave the scene and head out towards my apartment, trying to get home before I freeze. I am already losing feeling in my nose and ears. 

The cold weather reminds me of my hometown of Conway, Missouri. I quickly remanence about the familiarity of home. The smell of freshly baked apple pie. The sound of our dog barking at the neighbor’s cat. The warm fire crackling in the fireplace. The way I always felt comfortable and safe.

I miss my family, the close-knit group I had to say goodbye to on that fateful day.