Act 2, Scene 2

Dana’s apartment, a few hours later. The room is empty and still. Dana bursts through the front door after walking the city streets for hours, tossing her bag on the floor.

Dana

            Billy? Billy, are you here? (Aside) Well fuck you, too, then.

Dana begins to disrobe, pulling off her clothing from lunch like it is an ill-fitting skin. She exits briefly into the bedroom to pull on a ratty sweat suit and dig out her high school yearbook. When she emerges she begins speaking to the audience. She continues to move throughout the entire scene, unable to get comfortable or relax. When she sits, she may even rock slightly or jiggle her leg.

I used to chew on my hair when I was little, like second grade little. It made me feel calm and safe. Does that make any sense? To like the taste of your own hair, the way it feels between your teeth, the rhythm, like you’re chewing gum or something, but so much better? When I was scared or nervous or anything bad happened, it was the only thing that would calm me down. But then I became the freak sitting in the back of the room that no one would talk to, so I trained myself not to do it. And then, by the time I reached high school I was really popular. It was the early nineties; remember, so by popular I mean I dyed my hair “cherry bomb” with manic panic and I wore really short skirts with docs and flannel. I think that was the happiest I’ve ever been then. I didn’t do that well in school or anything, mostly because I just didn’t care, but I was really happy. And everyone thought I was going to be a great artist.

She flips open her yearbook to a particular page she has looked at many times before.

They even created a special “most likely” category in the yearbook just for me. “Most Likely To Take The Art World By Storm…Dana Myles.”

            Beat

I’m afraid it should have read “Most Likely to Peak At Seventeen.”

She looks through the yearbook in silence for a moment or two, squirming like a live wire. Dana hurls the book at the floor, jumps up and crosses to her purse. She digs through it and retrieves a compact, which she flips open to examine her chin.

I could do it right now. Nobody would know. I’d just use a ton of make-up until it healed.

She snaps the compact shut and ambles listlessly around the living room, trying to figure out what to do with herself. She briefly considers attempting to finish a few of her paintings, but decides against it. Suddenly, as if a light has flipped on in her head, she reaches for the phone and dials.

Hi, this is Dana Myles. Who I this? Oh, hi Mary. I’m okay. Having kind of a crap day, but I’m all right. I had a huge fight with my boyfriend and I think he’s moving out, which is why I’m calling. I was wondering, I could use some extra cash to cover his half of the rent. Well, I wasn’t expecting to pay the whole thing this month. So do you think you could let me clock in now? I know I’m not scheduled until nine, but-. Come on, Mary, it’s only a couple of extra hours. Look, who’s the manager on duty tonight? Well, ask him, then. Tell him what I just told you and I bet he won’t have any problem with it. Of course I’ll hold.

Dana sits on hold for a moment, singing and shimmying along with the hold music, Madonna’s “Human Nature.” Mary returns to the phone.

Thank you. And tell Steve I really appreciate it, too. I’ll talk to you later- Really? Great. What’s the number?

Dana scrambles for a pen and paper. She copies down the number Mary gives to her.

I’ll get right on that. Talk to you later, Mare.

Dana hangs up and immediately dials the customer’s number. As before, he can be heard via voice over in a recording of poor quality. This call is different for Dana. She is trying to loose herself in it entirely. Her anger and hurt are barely contained.

Paul

            Hello?

Dana

            Hello, is this Paul?

Paul

            Uh-huh.

Dana

            Do you know who this is, Paul?

Paul

            Yes.

Dana

Yes what, you disgusting piece of shit?

Paul

            Yes, mistress.

Dana

That’s better. Are you my slave, Paul? Will you do anything I tell you to?

Paul

            Yes, mistress, anything.

Dana

            That’s a good boy.

                        Begins to giggle, intensely and eerily.

I have a pimple on my chin. It’s enormous and it’s all filled with pus. (She hesitates for a minute) I want to pop it, slave. That’s my fantasy. Or better yet, I want to squeeze it all over your face. What do you think about that?

Paul

                        Paul hesitates, freaked out, but he is able to regain his composure.

Anything for you, mistress.

Dana

            (Defensive) That’s not what I asked, Paul. I asked what you thought.

Paul

            I… um, excuse me?

Dana

It’s a simple question, Paul. (Spoken with excessive clarity) What do you think about my fantasy?

Paul

            I’m sorry, mistress. I don’t know what you want me to say.

Dana

Come on, Paul. You must have a fantasy of your own. Not all the whips and chains bullshit, but the really personal stuff. The kind of things you’re afraid to tell people about.

Paul

            You’re my fantasy, mistress. I’m your faithful servant. I only want to serve you.

Dana

Fine. If that’s how you want it, I have a fantasy, slave. I want you to fulfill it for me. Do you think you can handle that, you stupid, useless sack of shit?

Paul

            Yes, ma’am. Thank you ma’am.

Dana

I love to pop zits. Like the one I have here on my chin. It’s perfect. All red and shiny and ripe.

Dana gropes for her purse and pulls out a compact and pops her pimple one-handed. She is nearly orgasmic. 

I’m squeezing! I’m squeezing! It’s squirting everywhere! Oh God, it’s crunching. OH!

(Sweetly, a half-whisper) Thank you, Paul.

                        Beat

Paul

            What?

Dana

I said thank you. Don’t you know how to respond when someone thanks you, slave?

                        Beat

            Hello?

Paul

            Yeah, I’m here.

Dana

‘Yeah, I’m here?’ Is that how you speak to me? Now, I just thanked you. What do you say?

Paul

            What the fuck was that?

Dana

            Excuse me-

Paul

No. No way. I spend good money calling you and all you want to do is talk about popping your zits? That’s gross. And  fucked up. What the hell is that anyway? That’s some sick shit, you know that?

Dana

Oh, yeah. I’m sick? Don’t forget who does all your Little Bo Peep fantasies with you. 

Paul

Fuck you. At least I pay you for your time. You know what, forget it. I’m done. I’m reporting you. I didn’t call for this.

Dana

No? You called because you wanted to be dominated. And that’s what I just did for you.

Paul

I don’t think so. You just whacked off while I listened and then charged me for it. Screw that. If I was into that shit I’d just watch my girlfriend when she picks her face for free. I’m calling your boss, sweetheart. 

He hangs up. Dana, stunned, sits with the phone next to her ear and then dial tone blaring for a long time. She finally hangs up. The phone rings moments later. Dana does not pick up. The answering machine picks up.

V.O Dana and Billy

            Both: Hi, you’ve reached us!

            Dana: Dana

            Billy: And Billy!

            Dana: We’re not here right now. Or we’re screening.

            Billy: So leave a message

            Both: and we’ll call you back.

            Dana: If you’re lucky.

                        Beeep!

V.O. Mary

Pick up Dana. I know you’re there. It’s Mary. Dana, I’m serious, you need to pick up the phone… Look, I just got a complaint about you and the guy was really angry. He insisted I transfer him to a manager and Josh wants to see you. In person. Dana, he says you’re suspended until you come down here. He’ll be in the office until 5 this morning and then he’s off for two days, so I hope you get this message-

            Dana picks up the phone.

Dana

Hi, Mary, I’m here. Okay. I’ll be down there in like an hour. No, don’t be. It’s not your fault. Thanks, Mare. Bye.

Dana hangs up the phone. Lights fade as she rises and crosses upstage, towards her bedroom.