Trav
THE CURTAIN comes down after the third encore, and we leave the stage. For the first time all night, I let my grin burst free. I was so scared…. But there was no reason to be. There have been times when I was uncertain of a performance, but this isn’t one of them. I killed it tonight, even with the tiny mistakes.
I’m not being immodest either—that’s what everyone’s been saying all night. During intermission, Rick and John were almost giddy with joy. I refused to let my guard down, though, just in case.
I change into street clothes and have started taking off the makeup when I hear the shouts, and my grin gets wider. I spin around and brace before Parker and Sam crash into me.
“You’re fucking awesome!” Parker shouts, jumping up and down and pounding me on the back.
“That was amazing!” Sam grips my arm and shakes it.
“Back off, you morons,” Dimi says, somehow sneaking between them and grabbing me in a hug. “Great job,” he murmurs. “You were fantastic.”
“Thanks, guys.” The grin is still on my face. I’m starting to think maybe it’ll be there forever. “Is, uh, have you seen Derek?” I kind of expected him to be here by now. I mean, these guys have become pretty good friends, and I’m glad they’re here, but….
Sam snorts, and Parker laughs outright.
“He got held up,” Dimi says. “He’ll be here any second.” He keeps a straight face, but his eyes are dancing.
Hmm.
I’m about to drill for more information when someone gasps. I look up…
…and see a floral bouquet with legs.
Seriously. There’s a massive arrangement of the most amazing flowers in shades of red, orange, and yellow walking toward me.
“I guess he figured out how to get it through the door,” Dimi murmurs.
Oh. My. God.
Derek?
“Derek?” I call. There’s a muffled curse, some shuffling of flowers, and then his head, his gorgeous blond head, pops out from between two lilies.
“Hey,” he says.
I laugh.
BY THE time the curtain comes down on Thursday night, I’m feeling… thoughtful. The last thirty or so hours have been tumultuous, to say the least. I went from being absolutely terrified and lacking in self-esteem to elated that Derek loves me, to nervous and sick that I had to do the performances but secure in the knowledge that I wasn’t alone, to cautiously optimistic, to flat-out thrilled. Emotional roller coaster, right? I’ve been feeling really great today, confident, happy—after all, everything in my life has fallen into place. I gotta admit, I get a real high from being in the lead role. I’ve loved my career so far, but there’s something about being the focus of the scene, of the whole show, that feels incredible.
So why thoughtful now, instead of still floating on cloud nine—or disappointed that my time in the spotlight is over? It’s got to do with my future career path. When Derek and I finally got home last night—really late, after a champagne celebration supper with half a dozen people from the show, Dimi, Parker, and Sam—I was still hyper. We wrestled the flowers into the house, I jumped him in the kitchen (because that’s a great way to work off energy, plus he bought out a florist for me, plus he’s hot, incredible, and loves me), and then we fell into bed. He drifted off pretty much right away—holding my hand, by the way—but I was still kind of energized. I started planning a call to my agent. He’s been lining up possible jobs for me for when I get back to New York in August, and I know without a doubt that he’ll be ecstatic if I tell him he doesn’t have to stick to supporting roles. He’s been trying to talk me into a starring part for years.
Did you catch that “if”? Last night, when I was lying in the dark beside the love of my life, flying high on my success and plotting out the course of my career, it was a “when.”
Then this morning I woke up when his alarm went off, stretched, and sneaked a cuddle and a kiss before he got out of bed. I watched his bare backside as he walked toward the en suite bathroom, and it struck me: this isn’t going to last. When I go back to New York, I won’t have the workday mornings. I won’t be able to slip in a coffee break with Derek, or lunch if his schedule allows it. There won’t be any more lazy Sunday mornings. Even if we decide to do long-distance, those things will be few and far between, and they won’t be everyday things. We won’t be part of each other’s routine. I’ll miss that.
Worse, though—last night, when I was dreaming of what my career will become, of my name in lights and some really amazing parts, always in my mind was the image of Derek there with me. Sitting in the audience on opening night, cheering me on. Bringing me flowers. Taking me out to celebrate a brilliant performance. I’d imagined the opening night of the first show in which I had the headline role, and Derek was there.
While I listened to Derek get in the shower, the first threads of thoughtfulness slipped into my mind. Derek and I need to have a conversation about our relationship.
The next few threads appeared just before lunchtime, when Mark called. He’d spoken to Rick and was calling to congratulate me.
“I’ve been waiting for you to get past whatever it was that was holding you back,” he’d enthused. “When you get back to New York, you’re gonna take them all by storm! Rick was raving about how great you were. Ha ha, good thing your contract is up in July, or I’d worry about my job!” He was joking, of course, but it reminded me of how very cut-throat my colleagues can be when it comes to the top parts. Sure, there’s a lot of competition for supporting roles as well, but that level of ruthlessness isn’t there. I’ve managed to make friends with a lot of star performers who are generally perceived as standoffish, because they know I’m not—wasn’t—interested in the top job. They felt more relaxed around me. Is that going to change now?
Still more threads in the early afternoon, when I got a call from Laurie Henderson, the entertainment journalist who did a feature on me for a popular Broadway publication last year.
“I just ran into Mark Aston,” he told me. “He says you’re filling in for him in Day Dot. Is it true? You’ve taken a lead role?”
“Just last night and tonight,” I protested. “Mark will be back tomorrow.” I found myself wishing I hadn’t answered the phone. I didn’t usually have to deal with the press—most of the publicity around shows centers on the stars, with supporting actors only occasionally being called on for interview if the part is particularly interesting. I’d only agreed to do the feature last year when Laurie approached me because my agent thought it was a good idea, and Rick had added weight to that, since Day Dot had been about to open.
“Does this mean we can expect to see you in some starring roles when you come back to New York?” Laurie pressed, and that was when it struck me. If I start going for the big parts on Broadway, I’m going to have to deal with publicity a lot more. I’m going to have to do interviews. Journalists are going to want to talk to me.
I fobbed Laurie off and spent the rest of the afternoon mulling it all over. In the end, I decided to do the show tonight and see how I felt after—and then take my time thinking about it. After all, I’m still contracted with Day Dot until the end of July. Nothing can happen until then. I don’t have to decide anything right away. In fact, I don’t have to decide anything until and unless I get offered a lead role.
Now the show is over, and I’m feeling thoughtful. It was an amazing night. I’m lucky in that it’s been years since I’ve had to perform in a show I didn’t like—these days, I can be choosy about which parts I go out for because work is steady. So tonight I got to perform the lead role in a show I really like, and it was great.
I change and clean off my makeup, and Derek comes backstage to meet me. He was in the audience again tonight, even though I told him he didn’t have to come. We had a really late night last night and he was up at his usual time for work this morning, so I thought he should stay home and take it easy, but he insisted. Still, it gives me a legitimate reason to put off my castmates who want to go out and celebrate again, because I don’t think they would have accepted “I’m pondering my career path” as an excuse.
Derek and I chitchat on the way home, but I’m distracted, and I know he can tell. For all I’ve been telling myself that I don’t need to make any decisions yet, I can’t stop thinking about it.
I wander into the living room and turn on the TV. I’m pretty sure there isn’t anything on that I want to watch, but the noise makes for a good distraction—and I can always pretend to actually be watching it as a cover for thinking. Clever plan, huh? Too bad it didn’t work.
Derek turns the TV off and sits beside me. “You’re quiet,” he says over my halfhearted protest.
I shrug. “Tired, I guess. It’s been a crazy couple of days.” I smile when I remember for the millionth time that part of that craziness was him saying he loves me.
“Yeah.” His gaze is searching, and a hint of something in his gorgeous blue eyes gets all my attention—worry. “But you don’t normally go all quiet when you’re tired. Uh, I guess you can’t wait to get back to New York and start auditioning, hey?”
I lean over and kiss him, mostly because I can and it feels good, but also because I don’t like seeing him worried. “To be honest, I’m not sure.”
He blinks, and I’m tempted to pull out my phone and take a pic, because I’ve never seen that stunned look on his face before. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “You’re not sure about what?”
Slumping back into the comfy couch, I sigh. “Whether I want to be a Broadway star with my name in lights.”
He shifts so he’s settled just as comfortably as I am, but facing me. The shocked expression has given way to a considering one. “You don’t want fame,” he says matter-of-factly, and my smile this time is because he already knows me so well. I point a finger at him.
“Got it in one. Not just fame, though. I love my job, and I’ve met a lot of great people in the industry, but there’s also a lot of backbiting and bitchiness. And the higher up you get, the worse it is.” I close my eyes for a second because I am tired too. “I never wanted to be famous, not really. Appreciated for my work, yes, definitely, especially by my peers. But not famous. I don’t like having a lot of attention on me.” I make a face. “And yes, I know that sounds dumb considering I get up on stage every night for hundreds, if not thousands of people to stare at.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, that’s different. It’s not you they’re staring at, it’s the character. Plus, you’re part of an overall production.” He looks like he’s thinking about what I’ve said, considering all the angles. I’ve gotten to know that look. His sharp, analytical mind is part of the reason Derek is so good at his job, and honestly, it’s kind of a turn-on to know he’s so smart. “But if you could have the lead roles without the fame and politics?”
“I’d be there in a heartbeat,” I say promptly, without even thinking about it. “I would kill to have some of those parts. I….” The words stick in my throat, more out of habit than anything else. This is Derek, I remind myself. He knows. My stomach clenches nervously anyway. I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable talking about this. “There have been a lot of parts over the years that I really wanted. Two of the ones that were offered to me were….” I shake my head. I can’t even think of the words to describe how fabulous it would have been to perform those characters. “It really hurt to turn them down. And now I can go for them, and I was—am—so excited about that. But I really don’t want to deal with the rest of that shit, so….” I shrug. “Maybe I’ll just go for the ones I really want. If I’m not consistently in lead roles, it might not be as bad.”
“That’s a good idea. And it would give you breathing space if you still took the occasional supporting role.” He takes my arm and tugs me closer, and I go willingly into his embrace.
I have time to think about this.