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  BENJI: No, whoa—

  JESS: I don’t even need your number, just … an e-mail, maybe? I almost definitely won’t use it. Just …

  BENJI: What?

  JESS: In case something goes wrong.

  BENJI: We were careful.

  JESS: Yeah, I’m always careful, and I’m usually pretty unlucky. So. I’m not trying to freak you out, I’m sure it will be fine.

  BENJI: You said you’re on the pill.

  JESS: Totally.

  BENJI: And we used a—

  JESS: I happen to be a very fertile person, which I’ve had opportunity in the past to discover, unfortunately, so … obviously the huge likelihood is that I’ll never use your e-mail, which, if it’s that much of a problem, I’m not gonna force you to—

  BENJI: Actually I—

  JESS: But there’s also, you know. STD.

  BENJI: I just had a physical so I took like a whole battery of tests—

  JESS: Okay, that’s great. I mean—(She does air quotes.) “me too,” but things don’t show up, or—

  BENJI: (Overlapping.) You think I’m lying?

  JESS: I don’t know you.

  BENJI: We used a condom.

  JESS: Which doesn’t protect against several diseases.

  BENJI: Which ones?

  JESS: Herpes. You don’t know this? HPV, which everyone has anyway—

  BENJI: Everyone?

  JESS: Well like seventy percent of the sexually active population.

  BENJI: I don’t have it.

  JESS: How do you know?

  BENJI: I didn’t test positive for it.

  (She laughs.)

  What?

  JESS: Men never test positive for it. The test for men sucks. So all these men go around claiming to be HPV free but meanwhile like every sexually active woman has it so it’s coming from somewhere.

  BENJI: I honestly don’t think I have it.

  JESS: Well, ya do now.

  BENJI: Great.

  JESS: Oh relax, there are no symptoms for men.

  BENJI: Which is the one that gives you genital warts?

  JESS: Well, HPV. But that’s a different HPV. The one I have gives you cervical cancer. If you get cervical cancer, I’ll owe you a big apology.

  BENJI: You didn’t think about telling me this last night?

  JESS: Everyone has it! You already had it!

  BENJI: I’ve only slept with one other woman in my life.

  (Brief pause.)

  JESS: You might not have had it.

  BENJI: Yeah.

  JESS: One other woman?

  BENJI: I was in a long relationship.

  JESS: Oh. Oops. Sorry.

  (Brief pause.)

  Well, it’s a virus, so technically it never completely goes away. But usually your immune system kicks it in two to three years.

  BENJI: That’s good news, I guess.

  JESS: But in the meantime you’ll probably just get infected with a different strain. There are more than thirty kinds of HPV.

  BENJI: And how many did you just give me?

  JESS: I honestly don’t know. Wait. Was that a joke?

  BENJI: Yes.

  JESS: (Stony-faced.) It was funny.

  BENJI: Thanks.

  JESS: Look, I legitimately feel shitty about this. I didn’t know you had only slept with one … I mean, I couldn’t tell from …

  BENJI: Thank you?

  (She looks away, shy for the first time.)

  Cervical cancer, huh?

  JESS: Yeah.

  BENJI: But you don’t …?

  JESS: Have cervical cancer? No. My last Pap smear was a little weird so I had to get a colposcopy but that came back totally normal.

  BENJI: Good.

  JESS: Yeah.

  BENJI: Are you Jewish?

  JESS: What?

  BENJI: Are you—

  JESS: I heard you, I just—no, I’m not, but anyway I’m pretty sure that’s not contagious.

  BENJI: No! I mean, if it were, I already have it, so. Got that one from my mom.

  JESS: Huh. Why …?

  BENJI: Because it’s the twenty-fifth. And you don’t have a tree and we’re talking about Pap shmears.

  JESS: Smears.

  BENJI: What?

  JESS: Pap smears. Not shmears.

  BENJI: Right. Shmears would be like bagels. Like, I’d like a scallion Pap shmear. I’d like mine with lox.

  (He cringes at his bad joke.)

  JESS: Uh-huh. Anyway I wasn’t really raised religious, but we do celebrate Christmas, so I’ll head to Connecticut in a few hours.

  BENJI: I thought Christmas morning was like a thing.

  JESS: Yeah, it is. Can we not talk about it?

  BENJI: Sure. I don’t really know what I’m talking about. We always did movies and Chinese food on Christmas, which is sort of a Jewish cliché, but my parents recently moved to Florida, which is also a cliché, incidentally, so … guess there’s no reason I can’t see a movie by myself. It’s only because our culture is so fucking Christian-centric that I feel bad about myself if I spend Christmas alone. I mean, what is Christmas to me? It’s not Christ. It’s not Mass. So if on any other day I’d feel perfectly fine about going to a movie by myself, I shouldn’t let Christmas stop me. Right?

  JESS: A movie sounds great. I wish I could go to a movie.

  BENJI: Not looking forward to the fam?

  JESS: I didn’t mean to do this, you know.

  BENJI: What?

  JESS: Lure you into conversation, I was seriously just—

  BENJI: (Overlapping.) You don’t have to—

  JESS: (Overlapping.)—gonna get your e-mail and not use it. I get what a one-night stand is. I get it.

  BENJI: You do that a lot.

  JESS: What?

  BENJI: “I get it.” “I’m not delusional.” “I’m not a lunatic.”

  JESS: Oh.

  BENJI: I’m the amateur here, you don’t have to justify yourself to me.

  JESS: I know.

  BENJI: I’d like to hear about Christmas in Connecticut. Really.

  JESS: Well. For the past three years I’ve spent Christmas morning in New Jersey with my boyfriend’s family. Ex-boyfriend. ’Cause they were the really religious ones. Catholic. And then we’d drive together to Connecticut for an early dinner. So … I haven’t exactly told my family yet that he’s not coming.

  BENJI: When did you break up?

  JESS: Just last Christmas.

  BENJI: Oh.

  JESS: So I’m relatively new to HPV, too. To bring it, you know, full circle.

  BENJI: You haven’t told your family you broke up?

  JESS: Not with words. They liked him.

  (Brief pause.)

  BENJI: He was really Catholic.

  JESS: Not him exactly, his family. But him actually too, in a weird way, yeah.

  BENJI: And you’re really fertile.

  (He looks at her. She looks back. Something snaps.)

  JESS: What are you, Nancy Drew?

  BENJI: I’m sorry, I—

  JESS: Look, if you have some huge aversion to giving me your e-mail address … it’s just something I do, to make myself feel more responsible, but forget it. It was nice meeting you. Merry Christmas.

  BENJI: (Gently.) Hey, listen—

  JESS: No no, you don’t have to do that. You’re very nice. You’re not an asshole. Go see your Jewish movie.

  BENJI: You want me to go?

  JESS: I have to get moving. Pick up the Zipcar. Brave the holiday traffic.

  BENJI: Okay.

  JESS: I don’t mean to be rude.

  BENJI: Sure.

  JESS: Sorry about the HPV.

  BENJI: Me too.

  JESS: Condoms actually do reduce the risk of transmission, so you might be fine. But don’t believe those tests. They’re bullshit.

  BENJI: Got it.

  JESS: I saw Lars and the Real Girl. It was good.

  BENJI: Yeah?

  JESS: No, I don’t kno
w why I said that. It was bad. It was really terrible. So. Bye.

  BENJI: Bye. Um … Good luck with everything.

  JESS: Yeah. You too.

  (He goes to the door. He turns around.)

  BENJI: You’re going to find a note I left on your dresser. Which will seem pretty embarrassing after this conversation. But. All my info’s on there.

  (Lights.)

  END OF PLAY

  THE CONTRACT

  Theresa Rebeck

  The Contract was originally produced at Naked Angels West in July 1996, Jerry Levine, director, with the following cast:

  PHIL Merrill Holtzman

  TOM Willy Gerson

  CHARACTERS

  PHIL: An agent.

  TOM: An actor.

  SET

  An agent’s office.

  Two men sit in an office. PHIL sits at a desk, reading TOM’s résumé.

  PHIL: Yeah, this is—

  TOM: I also dance. Plus, I condensed. That’s not everything.

  PHIL: Oh—

  TOM: I mean, it’s representative. There’s a ton more stuff, I just thought—

  PHIL: No question. The thing is, your type—

  TOM: I don’t really see myself as a type. There’s much more range, you know different—

  PHIL: Character—

  TOM: Yeah, character-type work, and, um, improvisation—

  PHIL: This is what I’m saying. A character actor, what are you, mid-thirties—

  TOM: Early. Early thirties, although I often read, last year, I played a twenty-three-year-old junkie, in an independent, and it was—

  PHIL: (Slightly impressed.) A junkie? ’Cause there’s maybe, they’re hot this year—

  TOM: You want tape on that? ’Cause I could get you that tape. The junkie tape—

  PHIL: Yeah, I—

  TOM: I mean, it was excellent, I didn’t have a lot to do, but there’s a great cameo of me nodding off, it’s killer stuff—

  PHIL: No, you know what you should do? All this, you do a lot of theater, right? This is mostly like stage stuff?

  TOM: Yeah, a lot, my training is—

  PHIL: Fantastic. I love the theater. Why don’t you give us a call, next time you’re in something, we’ll stop by and take a look, OK?

  (He pushes the résumé toward TOM. TOM does not take it.)

  TOM: Well but isn’t that why you called me in? ’Cause you saw the showcase and—

  PHIL: It would just be great to see you in something bigger. Get more of a sense of what you can do.

  TOM: Yeah but you called and asked me to come in and now—

  PHIL: Hey can I be candid? (Looks at résumé.) Tom? I mean, this is a tough business, it’s best to be candid, right?

  TOM: Oh absolutely, that’s—

  PHIL: ’Cause I’m sort of not really getting your tone here. I mean I called you in ’cause I think you have talent, I might want to, you know, represent you someday and now I’m getting like a ton of attitude here.

  TOM: No, you’re not getting attitude. I just—

  PHIL: I’m just saying. Don’t talk to me like a jerk.

  TOM: I’m not talking to you like a jerk. You’re talking to me like—You call me in, I take time out of my schedule—

  PHIL: Your very busy schedule—(He waves the résumé, unimpressed.)

  TOM: I told you, that’s not—besides, who cares what’s on my—Harrison Ford was a carpenter for God’s sake—

  PHIL: If you were Harrison Ford, believe me, this conversation would be very different.

  TOM: You called me. You called me—

  PHIL: Yes, I called you and you jumped. You jumped at this. I mean, you want representation or not? You want it or not?

  TOM: Of course I want it, I—

  PHIL: All right. I am the representation. I am what you want. I am the object of desire in this town. Got that? It’s not some fucking starlet tits out to here. It isn’t a gold BMW. It’s me. You want to work, you want to see your face on the big screen, the fucking tube, whatever—

  TOM: Look, I—

  PHIL: (Very reasonable.) I am what gets you that. I am what makes this town run. So when I say jump, you don’t say why. I mean, what, you have a problem with authority? You didn’t like your dad or something? Tell it to your shrink. Keep it out of my damn office and just do what I say.

  TOM: Why are you yelling at me?

  PHIL: Oh, now I’m—

  TOM: Yes, you’re not even representing me and you’re, you’re—

  PHIL: I said I might.

  TOM: Oh well that’s—

  PHIL: Look. I didn’t invent the world. I didn’t make up the rules. I’m giving you advice here. This is free! Do you know what you are? You’re an actor! No one gives a shit about you! You’re a total nobody! The fact that I’m even speaking to you is going to be the most significant thing that happens to you all year. You should be fucking genuflecting, and I mean literally hitting your knees when I say boo, and what do I get instead? What do I get? “You called me up and now you aren’t being nice to me.” This is show business, you moron! Nobody’s nice to anybody! Especially actors. You guys are the lowest form of life. Oh yeah, I know everybody says that about agents, but they’re wrong. I mean, we’re slime, OK, I don’t argue that, but we’re slime that you need, and you want, so you are lower even than me, and that means I don’t have to be nice to you. You have to be nice to me!

  TOM: I just—I don’t—that’s nuts. You’re nuts.

  PHIL: I’m what?

  TOM: I mean, I’m an actor. How can you—I’m an artist. Laurence Olivier for God’s sake—this is an art form and you’re—yeah, OK, I understand that it’s not show friends, it’s show business, but—we’re talking about telling stories, reaching in and communicating our humanity, and if you can’t even—if decency means nothing anymore, then why—I just don’t accept that. I’m sorry, but I don’t. I’ve given up everything to do this work, my family thinks I’m completely—I’ve maxed out all—I mean, I am fucking broke every second of my life, and I know that I’m just another actor but that’s not—this is a noble thing. Do you understand that? We are as puppets dancing for the gods. We spin meaning out of nothing, out of oblivion we make art, and you—well. You’re not—I can’t—you don’t—No.

  PHIL: Did you finish a sentence in there? I mean, did you actually say something?

  TOM: I don’t want you to represent me.

  PHIL: You what?

  TOM: You’re a bad person. (TOM takes his résumé and puts it in his knapsack.)

  PHIL: Oh. Well. You cut me to the quick, Tom. I, I just don’t know what to say.

  (TOM is heading for the door.)

  Hey! What are you doing?

  TOM: I’m leaving.

  PHIL: Did I say you could go? ’Cause I don’t remember saying that.

  TOM: I, I didn’t ask.

  PHIL: Tom. This is really—sit down. Would you sit down? Come on. I mean, I like you, Tom, would I be even talking to you if I didn’t—sit down. Come on.

  (TOM does.)

  TOM: I’m really confused.

  PHIL: I don’t see why.

  TOM: I’m getting very mixed signals from you.

  PHIL: How so, Tom? ’Cause I’m being as candid as I possibly know how to be. I mean, most people in this town—some of that stuff you said, you could’ve really pissed some people off with that. And you know, someone like me, if I were vindictive, I could call every casting agent I know and tell them, you know, you’re a difficult guy, and that would be it. Your career would be over.

  TOM: Is that a threat?

  PHIL: It’s just a fact. Nobody wants to deal with anybody who’s difficult. Life’s too short, babe. You want to have a conversation about, what do you call it—