Jeremy wasn’t superstitious, except during audition season. His general feeling was that callbacks had gone well—he hadn’t embarrassed himself, at any rate—but he wouldn’t say “they went well” aloud for fear he’d jinx everything. “I feel okay,” he’d say in a wishy-washy tone to anyone who asked.
What he knew was that he probably wouldn’t be cast in South Pacific because his rival for Cable was one of his nemeses, an actor named Flip Hoffman, who always seemed to be one step ahead of Jeremy. He was almost too pretty, for one thing, with sparkling blue eyes one could see from the top mezzanine, but Jeremy imagined sometimes that he could see the devil in them. He was a hair more talented than Jeremy; he had one more octave in his range than Jeremy could sing without his voice cracking.
But, like, who named their kid Flip?
So even though Jeremy performed to the best of his ability in the audition, he knew as soon as he got to the studio for the callback that he was losing the role of Cable to Flip.
Which was a bit of a kick in the teeth. Jeremy hated being the runner-up.
The Shakespeare audition felt like a formality. He’d have three whole lines in the play, if he got it.
But he’d killed the See the Light audition. He’d done a scene with a potential costar named Margaret, who was a bubbly woman with an adorable face that would absolutely read as teenager’s onstage, and he thought they’d nailed it. Then one of the songs he’d had to choose from was “What You Own” from Rent, so he’d sung Mark’s part alongside another actor named Trevor, who was apparently up for a different part; the casting director wanted to hear how their voices harmonized. They’d both improvised the last few extended lines of the song, and they’d sounded great together, at least from where Jeremy stood.
He’d spent the rest of his time at the studio talking with the choreographer. Jeremy was a decent dancer. He could hold his own most of the time, but wasn’t quite skilled enough to pull off a dance-heavy show. But he could handle the choreography needed for See the Light, which was pretty simple.
He left feeling like he’d nailed it.
He spent the rest of the week looking at apartment listings, which felt fruitless. There were so few vacancies in the city, and the few that existed were double what Jeremy could afford. He could find a roommate again, or resign to living in a studio far away from everything.
He could camp out at Max’s, abuse his hospitality, but that didn’t feel like a real option. Max had been the one to say he’d wanted his own space two years ago, and here Jeremy was encroaching on him again. Jeremy felt like an invader, no matter how kind Max was being. It was clear that Max was used to his apartment, had routines he followed, was settled. Besides, the apartment really was miniscule; it was the sort of space that only worked for a single person who didn’t own much or a couple who really liked each other, not two single guys trying to keep out of each other’s way. So, no, he wouldn’t be staying with Max any longer than he needed to.
On the way back to Max’s from seeing the most disgusting apartment Jeremy had ever seen—the bathroom hadn’t seen soap in a good long time, and the giant cockroach he’d seen in the kitchen had suddenly spotted wings and flown, and no thank you—Jeremy got a call from his agent.
He knew as soon as he saw Tom’s name on the screen that the news was bad.
“Break it to me gently.”
Tom sighed. “Well, they went with Flip Hoffman for Cable in South Pacific.”
“Of course they did.”
“Shakespeare’s a no, too. The production changed their mind about how many people they want to cast. Rather than casting every part, they picked five actors to play all the small parts.”
Dread settled into the pit of Jeremy’s stomach. “And See the Light?”
“Oh, kid. I know you wanted this part.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “They went with somebody else.”
“Terry Lewis told me it was between you and one other actor. Terry really loved you, but the other producers liked the other actor better and he was outvoted.”
So Jeremy was the runner-up yet again.
Jeremy was walking somewhere between Max’s place and the subway, which meant there was nowhere to sit down, so he ducked into a coffee shop and sat at the nearest empty table. He’d been so sure that he’d gotten the part, that he was perfect for it. How could he not have gotten it?
How could he have come in second again?
His heart pounded and his stomach flopped and his hands shook as he tried to get a handle on the news. “They really went with somebody else?”
“I’m so sorry. They said you were great! They just liked this other actor better.”
“What am I going to do?” Because not only had he gotten none of the parts he’d auditioned for, he also had no job prospects.
“I can line up some more auditions for you. I just heard Wicked is looking for a new Fiyero. And I can get you some TV work, maybe, stuff filming this summer.”
“Okay.”
“Hang in there, Jeremy. We’ll find some work for you.”
Jeremy wasn’t feeling great about any of it as he hung up. Since the woman behind the counter was giving him the hairy eyeball, he got up and ordered a latte, then immediately regretted it, because if he didn’t have a regular gig lined up soon, he definitely couldn’t spend money on expensive coffee.
He walked to Max’s feeling like he’d been kicked in the belly. It was, of course, the nature of theater that there was always someone better, but Jeremy knew he had the goods to get better parts. He was tired of coming in second, though. Story of his life, wasn’t it? He’d auditioned for Juilliard and hadn’t gotten it because he’d lost the last spot to another kid from his own high school. He’d been losing parts to actors like Flip Hoffman since he’d graduated from NYU. And now he’d lost the role of a lifetime to some actor he didn’t even know. Runner-up again.
For once in his life, he wanted to be the best. Just once, he wanted to be the best actor at an audition, the best singer, hell, even the best looking. He wanted to be someone’s first choice.
Had he even been Ryan’s? When they’d first started dating, Ryan had been seeing someone else, too. For three years, Jeremy had thought Ryan had dumped that guy and chosen Jeremy, but during one of their last fights, Ryan turned the table—he’d chosen Jeremy because the other guy had dumped him. So there Jeremy was, second fiddle, same as always.
Was he in the wrong profession? Was this even what he was supposed to be doing? All these years of paying his dues and auditioning for a hundred shows and only getting a handful of parts—maybe he wasn’t good enough. Maybe he never would be.
When he at last reached Max’s apartment, Jeremy was tired, frustrated, and all but crying, pulling on all his acting skills to look like his dreams hadn’t been crushed. He got to the elevator before he acknowledged that his eyes and throat stung.
And then he walked into Max’s apartment, where he found Max and Anthony laughing over something they were watching on TV, and Jeremy’s heart sank. The one person he most needed to talk to was tied up with someone else just then.
“Hi!” Max said sunnily as Jeremy dropped his bag in the living room. Then his face fell. “What’s wrong?”
“I just...” But he couldn’t say it. “I’ll be...” Jeremy beelined for the bathroom and slammed the door.
“I should go,” Anthony said.
“No,” Max said, but his heart wasn’t in it. If Jeremy was upset and hiding in the bathroom, he’d probably gotten bad news about a role, and Max had a feeling about which it was.
“He’s upset. You should comfort him.”
Max looked at the TV. They’d been watching a documentary about background dancers because a guy Anthony had once dated was in it, and they’d been having a good time laughing about how pretentious that guy was—going on and on about how dancing behind a certain flash-in-the-pan pop star was art—and had been about to order dinner when Jeremy arrived. “I feel bad that I’d be depriving you of dinner from your favorite Thai place.”
“Only decent Thai in Brooklyn,” Anthony said on a sigh. “It’s fine, really. Go to him. Clearly something terrible happened.”
“I bet he didn’t get that part.”
Anthony pressed his lips together and nodded, looking a little grim. “The one he was really excited about?”
“That, or someone died. I can’t imagine what else would upset him so much. He didn’t even look that devastated when he and Ryan broke up.”
“Am I supposed to hate Ryan for breaking Jeremy’s heart or love Ryan for pushing Jeremy back into your life?”
Max, startled, turned his head toward the bathroom, then turned back and shushed Anthony. “Neither. Both. I don’t know.” He sighed. Anthony really was a great friend.
Anthony stood. “Let me know how it ends. Unless it’s just twenty more minutes of Miguel talking about the beauty of the movement.” He rolled his eyes.
Max stood, too, and gave Anthony a hug before he walked him to the door. After Anthony left, Max knocked on the bathroom door. “Jer? You okay?”
The door opened, and Jeremy stood there, his eyes rimmed red. “I didn’t get the part.”
Max didn’t have to ask which one. He pulled Jeremy into his arms and held him firmly for a moment before steering him back into the living room.
“I didn’t mean to make Anthony leave,” Jeremy said.
“It’s okay.” Although Max was grateful Anthony had left them alone. “Here, sit for a minute. Do you need anything?”
“Why even bother? I’ll never be good enough, Max.”
“What are you talking about? You’re a great actor, Jeremy. This is a setback, nothing more. There will be other parts.”
Jeremy stared at the coffee table. “But what if I’m not good enough? This is, what, six years of my life I’ve spent trying to get a big part on Broadway. What if I never make it? Because, yeah, maybe I am good, but someone is always better. I’m not the actor casting directors go crazy for. I’m not the best dancer or the best singer or even the best looking. But I was certain this part was mine, and I still didn’t get it.” Jeremy let out a sigh. “Maybe this is the universe telling me this is not what I’m supposed to do with my life.”
Max hated seeing Jeremy this upset. “This wasn’t the part for you. The right one will come along. You’re so talented, Jeremy, and you’ve been working for this, what, since we were thirteen? This is your life purpose, and you’ll get there.”
Jeremy looked so down, Max put an arm around him and pulled him closer. Jeremy rested his head on top of Max’s. Max could picture holding Jeremy just like this if they were a couple, sinking into the sofa together after a long day, snuggling together just because they wanted to, not because there was a crisis. He could see...
Now was not the time for Max to get ideas about how he and Jeremy could be together, not when Jeremy was this upset, so he pushed those ideas aside. They sat together for a long time.
“I’m tired of being the second choice,” Jeremy said.
Max put both arms around him, because Jeremy was always Max’s first choice, but he didn’t feel he could say that. Instead, he said, “One day soon, a casting director will get a look at you and want to put you in everything. Maybe this wasn’t the right show, but the next one will be, and you’ll be wildly famous afterward.”
“I really wanted that part.”
“I know. You’ll get there. I know it.”
Jeremy eased away with a sigh. “Thanks, Max. You’re always my biggest supporter.”
“You feel better?”
Jeremy tilted his head and shifted his shoulders as if he were assessing the answer to that question. “No, not really. But I’ll be all right. I just need to feel this one a bit longer.” He let out a breath and turned toward Max. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? Buy you dinner? Or wine?”
Jeremy smiled ruefully. “You do enough. You know, it’s funny, coming here when everything is awful feels natural. And you just...know how to deal with how dramatic I am sometimes.”
“You’re not dramatic.”
“Tell that to Ryan.”
“Well, maybe sometimes, but right now? You didn’t get something you really wanted, so it’s natural for you to feel disappointed by that.” Max touched Jeremy again, just a gentle shoulder rub, and it occurred to him that, in some alternate universe, Jeremy could come to Max for everything, and they’d comfort each other. But not in this universe.
Jeremy rubbed his eyes and leaned against the sofa. “Man, this sucks.”
“I’m so sorry, Jer.” Max ran his hand over Jeremy’s forehead, smoothing his hair away from his face.
“Mmm.” Jeremy leaned into Max’s touch. “Thanks. You’re a good friend, Max. I really appreciate you. I probably don’t tell you that enough.”
Max’s heart squeezed. Which was maybe why he blurted out, “You ever think about us as more than friends?”
Jeremy burst into laughter. “What?”
And that was a gut punch. “Forget I said anything. Never mind.”
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at that. Just... I feel like I’m not in any kind of place to be more than friends with anyone. My life is upside-down right now. I just got out of a relationship, I’m homeless, and I’m unemployed. I... I mean, you know I love you like a brother, Max, but I can’t even think about more than that.”
“Jer.”
Jeremy stood up. He laughed softly and shook his head. “I’m gonna take a shower and wash this whole day off me. Then, I don’t know. Let’s order a pizza and finish that bottle of red in your kitchen before I spend the night crying into my pillow.”
“All right. I’ll call in the order.”
“Thanks. I...yeah. Thanks, Max.” Then Jeremy disappeared into the bathroom.