Max sat at his desk in his studio the next day, finishing up some accounting work a few hours before heading to the theater where Sword of Dawn was playing. When his phone rang, he was so deep in trying to make the numbers come out correctly that he almost didn’t answer it. He glanced at the caller ID and saw it was Daphne.
“I have bronchitis,” Daphne croaked when Max answered the phone.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. I just got my antibiotics prescription filled, but the doctor says I’ll still be contagious for at least another twenty-four hours. So it’s probably a bad idea for me to do something in which I will be breathing in people’s faces. You know, like putting on makeup.”
“You’re right. Stay home and get better. But, crap.” Max’s stomach sank. He knew what that meant.
And still Daphne explained, “Nikki knows the See the Light makeup design, but she’s the only one besides you, and the cast is too big for her to do the whole show herself. You could show the design to Jake and he could figure it out, but this is also opening night.”
“I know.” Max rubbed his forehead. It was opening night, so the makeup had to be perfect. The audience would be full of VIPs. The integrity of his studio depended on them doing this job perfectly tonight. “No, I guess I’ll have to go. I know the design. I created the design for each character.”
When he got off the phone, Max pressed his hands to his eyes and tried to grasp the situation. He hadn’t made any decisions where Jeremy was concerned. Everything Jeremy had said the night before had been completely right, regarding how Max had been avoiding him. And the ball was in Max’s court, wasn’t it? Jeremy had put it all out there. So why couldn’t Max just accept that and be happy?
Before he did anything else, he called his old therapist to see if he could get in for an appointment.
Then he called the makeup staff for Sword of Dawn, only half of which was currently in the studio, and made arrangements for them to do the show that night without him. The theaters where the two shows were playing were about two blocks apart, so Max could theoretically run between them in a matter of minutes in case of emergency if he used Shubert Alley as a shortcut. Everyone who worked on Sword of Dawn could do the trickier makeup because he’d hired the best; he was just a control freak and usually took the more difficult makeup on himself. But at this point, they were a well-oiled machine. Since so much of the makeup was done with latex masks and prosthetics, most of the task was color and blending.
Then he realized he’d have to do makeup for See the Light that night, which meant he had to review the design again. He remembered it vaguely, but hadn’t thought about it much in over a month. He still had all his notes and the computer renderings, and Nikki would still be there to go over everything with.
But he cursed bronchitis hard as he looked over his makeup design notes. He wasn’t ready to face Jeremy yet and wanted more time, but now he’d have to touch Jeremy’s face—as the senior makeup artist at the studio, Max would be expected to work on their star.
Max assembled a new kit, making sure he had all the right colors for the cast. He’d left his larger kit at the Sword of Dawn theater, but he had everything he needed in the studio, it looked like. After putting it all in one of his large makeup bags, he slid that into a tote bag and threw it over his shoulder.
Then he realized he was just anxious, and he had several hours before the actors would even be at the theater for makeup. Thank God there wasn’t a matinee.
But it was impossible to work that afternoon. He spent some time with Nikki going over the makeup design, then he tried to get back to his number crunching, but the numbers just danced around on his laptop screen as his stomach churned.
Nikki ran out to get food so he’d at least eat something, but mostly he picked at his sandwich. Then, when it was at long last time to head to the theater, he and Nikki walked across town to the Hammerstein.
He tried not to let his deep sense of foreboding get the best of him.
Jeremy was already there when Max walked in; he was speaking to a man who was likely a director or producer, given that his body language indicated he was issuing orders. Jeremy then nodded and looked over. He made eye contact with Max.
When Jeremy was finished speaking, he walked over and said, “What are you doing here?”
“Daphne called in sick, so I’m filling in.”
Jeremy smiled. “I see. So we finally get to work together, and it’s under these circumstances.” He pressed his lips together. “At least I know I’m in good hands.”
Max nodded. He could do this. He could make Jeremy look young and beautiful. He and Nikki had already worked out which actors he would be painting—the ones Daphne usually painted, basically—so he followed Nikki to one of the makeup rooms and started to set up his kit.
There was only one chair. Nikki said, “I’ll be right next door if you need anything. The lighting okay in here?”
“It’s a little dim.”
“I know. It’s a dungeon backstage in this theater. The light over the mirror is pretty good, though, if you flip that on.” After Max found the switch, Nikki bid him good luck and walked out of the room.
Max spread out his kit on the vanity in front of the mirror. This was an old theater, and Max imagined this room had probably once been someone’s dressing room. He could picture an old vaudeville actor staring at himself in the mirror, probably doing his own makeup.
Broadway wasn’t perfect. It was made up of imperfect productions put on my imperfect people. All Max could do was hope the tricks he employed made people forget that for a few hours each night.
An actress walked in a few minutes later. “I’m Maggie. I play Julie.” She held out her hand for Max to shake.
“Nice to meet you, Maggie.”
“Your hair is so cool. I love that shade of purple. Do you do it yourself or get it done professionally?”
Max touched his hair. “I go to a little salon in Downtown Brooklyn.”
“I’ve thought about doing something crazy with my hair, but I can’t as long as I do this show unless I want to wear a wig. And, let’s face it, no one wants that. You get so sweaty under them.” She grinned. “Jeremy says you and he are good friends.”
Max had printed up a little booklet with the makeup design for each character, so as he flipped to the page for Julie, he said, “Yeah, we’ve known each other since we were kids.”
“Wow! That’s an insane coincidence.” Maggie settled into his makeup chair. “What are the odds?”
“Well, I own the studio your producers hired. Daphne works for me.”
“Oh! That’s good, then. I was a little worried about your paint-by-numbers diagram there. No offense.”
“None taken. I did the makeup design for the show, but I’m also working on Sword of Dawn, which is a tougher job. Er, no offense to you, either.”
“Dude, I get it. There’s a big difference between making us look smooth and youthful and painting dragons and goblins and whatever.”
“Speaking of making you look youthful, tilt your face up and hold still.”
He was close to finishing with Julie’s face when Jeremy appeared in the doorway.
“Hey,” Max said, completely unsure of what he should say.
“Hey,” Jeremy echoed.
“Boys,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes.
Jeremy sat in a random chair in the corner of the room while he waited. It looked like a prop chair, more ornate than any random chair had a right to be, but it creaked when Jeremy settled his weight on it. That side of the room was shadowy and the lack of light obscured Jeremy’s features.
Max leaned close to Maggie and analyzed her face. Everything looked blended pretty well. He added a little more highlighter at the top of her cheeks and then added a dot of white eyeliner to the inside of each eye. Then he stood back to examine his handiwork.
“What do you think?” he asked.
She leaned over and examined her face in the mirror. “Oh. I like this better than when Daphne does it. I look like I’m fourteen again.” She giggled nervously. “Uh, don’t tell Daphne. She’s really great.”
Max smiled. At least he could still do makeup well. He had that, if nothing else. “I think you’re done.”
Maggie stood. “All right! On to wardrobe.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not nervous about opening night.”
“No, me neither,” Jeremy said.
Their tone indicated they were both terrified.
“I guess you’re up, Jer,” Max said.
Jeremy nodded and stood. Maggie ducked out of the room, leaving Jeremy and Max alone.
Jeremy sat in the makeup chair and put a white handkerchief around his neck, Max supposed to guard the crisp black tee-shirt he was wearing from makeup drippings. He wasn’t in costume yet.
“So...” Jeremy said.
Max sighed. “This isn’t awkward at all.”
Jeremy cracked a smile. “Nope.”
Max got to work. He covered Jeremy’s face in color-correcting primer, because Jeremy looked a little flushed, likely from nerves. Jeremy sat calmly in the chair with his face turned up toward Max and his eyes closed. Max took a deep breath and got out the foundation he wanted. He held the bottle up to Jeremy’s face, but he’d been doing Jeremy’s makeup for so long that he knew exactly which color he needed.
Max had done Jeremy’s makeup for every school play in high school, once Max figured out he had a knack for makeup. Jeremy trusted him implicitly, and Max hadn’t wanted to let anyone down, so he’d been very careful in those days. Those makeup jobs were cakey and over the top, because Max hadn’t known the finer points of contouring or balancing colors.
Once the foundation layer was applied, Max got out a brown pencil and started drawing contour lines on Jeremy’s face. Muscle memory took over somehow, even though he hadn’t done Jeremy’s makeup in a couple of years. But he knew this face. He knew the finer points of it. He knew where to apply shadow and light with color in order to make Jeremy’s face glow. He knew the size of Jeremy’s nose, the beautiful line of his lips, the little dip above his chin, the crease in his brow. He knew the shape of Jeremy’s eyebrows, and they had always been a little thin, so he drew on thicker ones with brow pencil. He dabbed concealer on the blemish Jeremy probably didn’t even know was below his chin. Once he had most of the face done, he got out his highlighter palette.
“You’ve learned some new tricks since the last time you did my makeup,” Jeremy said.
“I’ve learned more from drag queens than I ever would at cosmetology school. Anthony’s friend Winston, whom you may know as Ebony Fay, is some kind of contouring genius. He could give master classes.”
Jeremy smiled. God, Jeremy’s lips were so perfect. Pink and pretty, looking like they belonged on a woman, and yet perfectly masculine and matching Jeremy’s face.
Jeremy mostly just sat and breathed and Max touched every part of his face. Nearly everything was applied with sponges and brushes, but Max got in there with his fingers when necessary, too.
Through all of it, he could feel Jeremy’s gaze on him. He had to put some effort into not meeting it, because it was so intense. He worried now that Jeremy would say something, and he wouldn’t have the ability to think about it or respond well. He wasn’t ready to talk, and right before Jeremy’s opening night was hardly the time.
He grabbed his translucent powder and a big brush. He dusted it over Jeremy’s face to set everything. Then he stood back to admire his handiwork.
“The good news is that your face looks exactly like it did when we were fifteen,” Max said.
Jeremy turned and looked in the mirror. “Oh, god. It totally does. That’s uncanny. Daphne always follows your plan more strictly.”
“I didn’t even look at the plan,” Max admitted. “I know your face. I just made you look fifteen. Well, except in your body. You can’t mask that with makeup, though.”
Jeremy smiled. “See? We understand each other.”
That felt like the prelude to a speech, so Max decided to cut that off. “Jer, I...” But he couldn’t figure out how to finish the sentence.
He moved to put his brush and powder back down, but Jeremy grabbed his arm.
“Just let me say this,” Jeremy said. “I’ve been thinking about what to say to you all day.”
Max looked at him reluctantly and met his gaze.
“A career in theater is all about risk,” Jeremy said softly. “No risk, no reward. You have to put yourself out there or you’ll never get the part you want. I got this part and it’s a dream. Now I want you. I’m putting myself out here for you. I want you to put yourself out here for me. Because, yeah, maybe things won’t work out, but maybe they will and you and I will be insanely happy together, and we’ll never know if we don’t try.”
Max nodded slowly. He tried to absorb that, but he felt overwhelmed instead.
“I just wanted to say that,” Jeremy said. “Are you hanging around to do touch-ups or is Nikki handling that?”
“I don’t know. Where is Nikki? Do you know?”
“There’s another makeup room next door. Nikki and Daphne took separate rooms to keep everyone’s sanity intact. The actress who’s playing my mother is kind of a diva, and she chatters a lot during her makeup session, so we all kind of avoid her while that’s happening. I think it must drive Nikki crazy.”
“Probably. She hasn’t said anything, though.”
Max stepped back to give Jeremy room to stand. He glanced at his watch. “You probably have to get into costume.”
“Yeah.” Jeremy stood. “I’m really glad you’re here. You should try to watch the show from the wings. I think you’d really like it.”
Max smiled and nodded. “Well. Good luck out there. In bocca al lupo.”
“Crepi il lupo.” Jeremy grinned. “Thanks, Maxie.”
Then Jeremy was gone.
Max had to do the makeup on Keenan next, and Keenan already looked like a teenager despite being almost thirty, so that makeup job was pretty easy. Then Max got to paint Trevor, who played Dan the bully, like a real bruiser, using highlighting to really emphasize Trevor’s square jaw to make him look even more like a brick wall. He finished up by polishing up a couple of the ensemble members. Then he packed up his kit and went to find Nikki, who was also wrapping up.
“You sticking around?” Nikki asked. “I can do touch-ups in between.”
“Well, funny story. I actually have a ticket to the show tonight. I bought it as soon as tickets went on sale, because Jeremy’s a friend, you know? I was going to try to sell it online because I figured I’d be busy with Sword of Dawn tonight, but then I didn’t sell it. Something told me to hang on to it, I guess. So if it’s all right with you, I’d like to see the show.”
Nikki grinned. “Yeah, that’s fine. Think you can sneak back here during intermission to help out with touch-ups, then? You don’t have to. In fact, if you want to just stay in your seat, I’ll text you if I end up needing you. Mostly, it’s contingent on how much Jeremy sweats in the first act. Although I saw how you did his makeup, and it’s a little different from how Daphne usually does it. I like it a lot, by the way.”
“I improvised a little.”
Nikki nodded. “Seriously, go use your ticket. Find your seat. I should be able to handle all this if you tell me which product you used on Jeremy’s cheeks. But I will definitely text you if I get overwhelmed.”
“Here.” Max dug into his kit and came back with the highlighter palette. “I used this pearl color on his cheeks.” Max used his pinkie to show where he’d spread it on Jeremy on his own face. “Then I used this bronze color on the cheekbones. It adds a subtle shadow.”
“Excellent.” Nikki took the palette. “You’re the best, boss.”
She added the palette to the spread on her table. She’d likely hang out here for the rest of the show to do touch-ups as needed. Max surveyed her kit and saw that she was well outfitted. “I’ve got extra stuff in here. You want to just keep an eye on this while I go see the show? I can come back after and grab it.” He slid his makeup bag on the table beside Nikki’s spread.
“Yeah, that’s fine. Or text me if they won’t let you back here and I’ll find you outside.”
“Okay. Thanks, Nikki. You’re doing a great job here.”
“Thanks!”
So Max left out a stage door and walked down the block to the proper entrance to the theater. There was a line out front, so Max waited on it like a normal theatergoer. There was a short red carpet and a little VIP area near one entrance to the theater, and photographers stood around waiting for the celebrities attending opening night. Max was mildly curious about who might be coming, but he was happy enough to blend in with the crowd.
He hadn’t told Jeremy he’d bought this ticket. He wouldn’t watch the show from the wings. He’d watch from the audience, the way the show was supposed to be viewed.
He got into the theater a few minutes later and found his seat in the middle of the orchestra about eight rows back, close enough that he’d be able to see Jeremy’s face, but far enough that Jeremy wouldn’t see him. He closed his eyes for a moment, preparing himself mentally. He hadn’t watched Jeremy act in a while, because most of his recent jobs had been out of town. And this show meant so much to Jeremy, which was why Max had bought a ticket. That had been before any of the recent fallout, before Boston, before they’d even slept together.
And then, finally, the house lights dimmed. A piano started to play. Then Jeremy strolled out onstage, gave the audience an awkward wave in character, and launched into song.
Opening night jitters were no joke. From the moment Max had said, “In bocca al lupo,” Jeremy’s heart had been pounding.
That was an old tradition. Jeremy had gotten superstitious about people telling him to break a leg, so Max, who had taken Italian in college, had started saying “In bocca al lupo” as an alternative. Then Jeremy had looked it up—it meant “in the mouth of the wolf” and was the Italian idiomatic equivalent of “break a leg”—and the proper response was “Crepi il lupo,” may the wolf die. Thus a tradition between them was born.
And there was some comfort in familiarity, but Jeremy was nervous about everything. He was nervous about the show, he was nervous he’d miss a cue or sing a wrong note or fall on his face. He worried Max wouldn’t like the show, or that he’d leave the theater without seeing any of it. And he worried that Max would ultimately decide they shouldn’t be together.
Jeremy didn’t want to go back to just being friends. He wanted to be with Max in all ways. He wasn’t sure they could go back to just being friends, not after everything they’d tasted and experienced together.
And he also kind of hoped Max would watch the show and take something of its message away with him. The title See the Light was a commandment: Look for joy. Find your joy. Seize it, hold it close to your heart. Maybe Max could see that in their relationship. That he’d see the light in what they had together.
After Jeremy got into his costume, he walked down the hall toward the stage in time to see Max go down the hall toward the exit. There was a flash of outside light as Max pushed open the heavy door and exited the theater.
Jeremy supposed that answered his question. His heart sank.
But there was no time to think about it. He had a show to do. He took up his spot in the wings as the orchestra warmed up. One of the violins was wildly out of tune, based on what Jeremy could hear. Which of course only made his heart pound harder, made sweat break out on his forehead.
When the opening piano riff played, muscle memory took over, and he walked out onstage. He gave his customary awkward wave to the audience to show that he and the audience were about to embark on a journey together, that they had a relationship. Then he began to sing “Behind the Curtain.” And he vowed to himself as he sang the first few bars that he would give this performance everything he had, Max or no, because he could win over an audience even if he couldn’t win over Max.