Chapter 3
Thursday finally rolls around. Grace waits expectantly for Will to break the news but he is aggravatingly silent. Will pretends to get ready to go to work so as not to tip off Grace. He had already asked for the day off. He goes to the corner café, has a leisurely breakfast and returns to his apartment after he thinks Grace has gone to work. He changes into some casual clothes and starts to vacuum and dust the living room area of the flat, then prepares a plate of appetizers for his expected guests, then glancing at the clock sees it's just enough time to change into something more stylish.
Two o'clock comes and goes as Will impatiently waits. He figures they may be late – their plane could have been delayed or they might have stopped in at the New York office to pay their respects. At 2:20 the doorbell chimes. Will suddenly gets butterflies, but goes to the door and opens it. Three men are standing at the entrance.
"Hello, I'm David Kohan," one of the men says extending his hand. Will shakes it. "This is Max Mutchnick," Mr. Kohan adds indicating the other man who also shakes hands with Will. This is Mr. Lubin our photographer that may want to take some shots of your apartment."
Will was glad that he had cleaned. They sat down. Will offered his guests some refreshments, but they only opted for coffee. It wasn't long before the apartment door flew open and a tall, slender person dressed in a gaudy red kimono, geta sandals, paper fan and a black wig enters. The face is painted white, but Will immediately recognizes Jack who launches into a falsetto song of gibberish as he dances giddily around. Will is embarrassed. He sighs and tried to hide his face in his hands – it's just the thing he tried to prevent from happening. Jack doesn't look like he's going to wind down anytime soon, so Will jumps up and pushes Jack toward the door. They have a few clipped, emotional words just before Will shoves Jack out in the hallway, closes and locks the door.
"Sorry about that, gentlemen. I'm positive 'Miss Saigon' won't interrupt us again."
"Who was that?" Mr. Mutchnick queries.
"Jack," Will blurted.
"Jack…the same Jack in your script?"
"Yeah…the same," Will laments. "You'll have to forgive him, he's rather stage struck."
The two execs exchange glances. Rather than being miffed at the interruption, they are trying desperately to keep in their laughter.
The photographer starts taking photos of the apartment when suddenly Grace emerges from her bedroom dressed in a slinky gown. She leans seductively against the wall, then glides over to the sofa and insinuates herself between the two guests, babbling constantly in an effort to make small talk between gobbling down the appetizers.
"Grace! What are you doing here?" Will harshly whispers.
"Wiiillll…dahling," Grace affectedly lisps. "I didn't know we had company," She says batting her eyes at the producers.
"Lordy, lordy! What's going on here," a shrill voice resounds from the bathroom as Karen staggers out into the living room, blinking at the bright flashbulbs of the photographer. "Am I being booked again?" She lurches towards the coffee table and takes a big gulp from one of the mugs, but quickly sprays it out. "My god, that tastes like coffee. Where's the Smirnoff?"
Will has almost totally lost it by now. "All right! That's e-nough!" he barks taking Karen by the elbow and leading her to the door. "Go back to the manse, go over to Jack's, go to the corner bar, but get away from here!" He opens the door to let Karen out, but Jack is still standing there. He's changed into a tux and top hat and pushes his way back into Will's apartment. He launches into the "Wilkommen" number from Cabaret. Things are spiraling out of control. The photographer is getting it all on film.
"STOP!" Will roars and six heads snap in his direction as a deathly silence descends on the room. "What the hell do you all think you're doing?"
"I think we've seen enough, Mr. Truman," Kohan says standing and making his way to the door followed closely by Mutchnick and the photographer.
"Wait, gentlemen. Don't you want to hear any more of my ideas for the show?"
"We'll call you, Mr. Truman," Mutchnick says as the door closes behind the visitors.
Will just stares blankly for a few seconds. He whirls around and looks malevolently at his three friends. He is too angry at them to even yell. He just makes a little choking sound and runs to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Grace, Jack and Karen look dejectedly at the floor.