The Daddy Audition

by Cindi Myers

  “I don’t know…”

  “Tell you what—I’ll overnight the script to you. Take a look and see what you think, then give me a call.”

  “All right.” It wouldn’t hurt to look at the script. Of course, she couldn’t take the part. She couldn’t uproot Annie and move her back to California just when she was getting settled here. Tanya’s parents might agree to look after her, but Tanya could never leave her daughter that way, even if it would be only for a few weeks….

  She shook her head, resisting the pull of fantasy. “It doesn’t matter how great the script is,” she said. “There’s no way I could take the part. I have a job and Annie—responsibilities here I can’t abandon—especially for something that might not even work out.”

  “I’m telling you, this show is going to be huge.”

  “How many times have I heard that before? I’m through gambling with my life that way.”

  “You’re an actress,” Rudy said. “You take a gamble every time you step onstage—a gamble that you can make people believe you’re a character, experiencing the struggles and challenges and adventures of that character.”

  “I still do that,” she said. “I enjoy my work with the theater here.”

  “That’s small-time stuff. You have big-time talent, and you deserve to show it off on the national stage—on television and in the movies.”

  Now Rudy was talking about movies. At one time the very idea of acting in a feature film would have set her heart racing, but she’d been disappointed too many times before. “Send me the script,” she said. She had to at least satisfy her curiosity. “But don’t hold your breath. I don’t want to leave Crested Butte again.”

  “Don’t make a decision until you’ve read the script.”

  “All right.” She hung up, and stared at the mute phone for a long time, as if not believing the herald of news she’d just as soon have not heard.

  All those months in Los Angeles she’d sat and waited for the phone to ring. All those months it had been silent. The silence had beaten her down and made her let go of her old dreams. Instead of craving a return to stardom, she’d longed for simpler things—family and friends, the beauty of the mountains and a safe, nurturing place in which to raise her daughter.

  Now, when she’d found all that, when she was happy and settled again, Rudy called with what sounded like a fabulous offer.

  When she’d left Crested Butte the first time, it had been with all the excitement and optimism of youth. Anything had seemed possible as she boarded that bus for California. She was going to be a star, make her fortune and find true love with a handsome movie star.

  Now the prospect of leaving her hometown again filled her with fear. Part of her still wanted the fame and fortune, but she wasn’t sure she was willing to give up the safe life she had here to get it.

  As for true love…she’d tried the Hollywood version before and had scars on her heart to prove it. Only in the past few weeks had she begun to hope love might be possible again, not with some celebrity leading man, but with Jack. He’d been her first love, the man who had set the standard for everyone to follow. Now that she had him back in her life, did she dare risk losing him again?

  JACK SLIPPED into the theater Sunday afternoon as the rehearsal for the Vinotok play was winding down. Rather than disturb the cast, he stood in the darkness at the back of the auditorium and waited.

  “You can’t pull one over on me, Dragon.” Dressed in black leather pants, a black shirt and chain mail, Zephyr brandished a toy light saber at Bryan, who wore a papier-mâché dragon’s head. “My name may be Sir Hapless, but I’m not as dumb as I look, and you’re nothing but an overgrown lizard.”

  “A fire-breathing lizard!” Bryan roared, and a foot-long flame roared out of the dragon’s snout.

  “Whoa, better be careful with that torch.” Max, wearing a green doublet over his jeans, stepped forward. “You’ll set your head on fire.”

  “It has to look good for the audience,” Zephyr said. He held up a fire extinguisher. “Besides, after he tries to flame me, I’m going to blast him with the fire extinguisher. It’ll be great.”

  “Don’t ruin the dragon head.” Casey came to stand beside her husband. “It’s only paper and it wasn’t cheap.”

  “I’ll aim for his shoes.” Zephyr pointed the fire extinguisher and effected an exaggerated cowboy drawl. “When I say dance, you dance, pardner.”

  Bryan broke into a fairly credible break dance.

  “This is going to be one Vinotok play people will never forget,” Tanya said. “The ad-libbing is great, but remember to stick to the story line. We don’t want the play to last all night.”

  Jack’s attention focused on Tanya. He couldn’t look at her without feeling a catch in his chest. She was so beautiful. He couldn’t believe she wasn’t the biggest star in the country. She had so much talent and a warmth and sincerity everyone around her felt.

  Maybe that was the reason she hadn’t made it big. She wasn’t hard and brittle enough to play those Hollywood games, or at least, that’s the way he saw the television and movie business—cold and cutthroat.

  “That’s enough for tonight,” Tanya said. “Good job, everyone.”

  Jack stepped forward. “Don’t leave yet,” he said. “We need to discuss construction of the Grump.”

  “My only stipulation is that it has to be big enough to make an impressive fire, but not so big it’s a hazard,” Casey said. “It has to burn easily and be big enough to contain most of the gripe boxes. And since we’re setting it on fire, it can’t look too much like a real person. Go for cartoonish.”

  “I told you, we need fiery eyeballs and snaggly teeth,” Zephyr said.

  “Maybe only one eye,” Max said. “That wouldn’t look very human.”

  “These are the mountains—maybe make it hairy like a Yeti,” Bryan said. “The hair could be strips of paper. That would burn easily.”

  “A one-eyed Yeti,” Max said.

  “With snaggly teeth,” Zephyr added.

  Tanya had been quiet throughout this discussion. Jack turned to her. “What do you think the Grump should look like?” he asked.

  “I don’t think it should be a scary monster,” she said.

  The men stared at her. “What do you mean?” Max asked. “Isn’t the Grump always scary-looking?”

  “I think grumps and gripes are things that we hold on to,” she said. “We get comfortable with them because they’re so familiar, even if we don’t like them. So a Grump should look like that.”

  “But what does that look like?” Jack asked.

  “A one-eyed Yeti with a nosy landlord hanging around his neck,” Zephyr said.

  Everyone stared at him. “Hey, nosy landlords make me grumpy,” he said.

  “Maybe Zephyr’s on to something,” Tanya said. “Maybe the grump is a sort-of-human figure with all kinds of annoyances hanging off it.”

  “Yeah, it could have a gas pump with high prices around its neck,” Jack said.

  “And a sheaf of bills in its hand, and a dripping faucet poking from one ear,” Bryan added.

  Jack made notes. “This is great,” he said. “I can make this work.” He tucked the notebook into his pocket. “Thanks, everybody. I’ll put together as much as I can at my shop, then we can finish the assembly the night before the festival.”

  “I’ll find some kind of drape to put over it,” Casey said. “We don’t want to spoil the surprise. At the play we can unveil your handiwork.”

  Tanya gathered her things. “Thanks for all the hard work, everybody. I’ll see you at the run-through Friday.”

  “Let me walk you to your car,” Jack said.

  “It’s perfectly safe,” she said, laughing. “This is Crested Butte.”

  “Indulge me.”

  “Let him walk you to your car,” Zephyr called. “Maybe he’s hoping to sneak a kiss.”

  She reached for her tote bag and it tipped, spilling an avalanche of papers across the
floor.

  Jack knelt and helped her gather up the mess. He picked up one sheaf of papers and recognized a script. “Is this a new play?” he asked.

  “No. It’s nothing.” She grabbed for it, but curious, he held the papers out of her reach and skimmed through the first few pages.

  The story was set in L.A., with a cast of what looked like a dozen people. “This doesn’t sound like anything the Mountain Theatre would do,” he said. He started to return the script to her, then saw a notice on the cover: Property of Paradise Productions, Hollywood, California.

  “It’s nothing,” she said again, and took the script from his unresisting hand.

  “What exactly is this ‘nothing’?” He tried to look into her eyes, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

  “It’s a script for a new television show,” she said. “My agent sent it to me.”

  He felt cold and black inside like a rusty woodstove in which the fire had long since burned out. “Why did he send it to you?” His voice sounded strangely calm, like that of someone else—a disinterested stranger.

  “There’s a part in here he thought would be right for me.”

  “So you’re thinking about going back to Hollywood?”

  “Not really. These producers wanted me for the part, so of course my agent had to send me the script just to look at it.” Still she wouldn’t look at him.

  “But you are considering it.” He felt sick to his stomach.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “It’s what you’ve always wanted, to be a star.” It was all she’d talked about when they were growing up.

  “Yes.”

  “I guess it probably pays a lot of money.” She wouldn’t have to worry about affording an apartment with a job like that.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I guess you’d be crazy to pass up a chance like that.”

  “I guess I would.” But she didn’t look happy about the prospect.

  He handed her the tote bag. “I just remembered, I have to be somewhere,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  He left. He had to leave before all the rage and despair and other messy emotions roiling within him exploded. He wouldn’t let her see how upset he was. She might break his heart again, but he wouldn’t let her take his dignity, too.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Angela greeted Tanya outside her office Monday morning with a plate of coffee cake and a barrage of questions. “What’s this I hear about you going back to Hollywood?” she asked. “When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I heard from my agent a few days ago, and I haven’t decided what I’m going to do.” Tanya unlocked the door and led the way inside. “How did you hear about it?”

  “Bryan told me. He said Jack couldn’t leave the theater fast enough when he found out last night.”

  Guilt filled her, and it hadn’t really disappeared since Jack had picked up that script. She wished she’d had a chance to tell him because his reaction to the news hadn’t been what she’d expected—or secretly hoped for. “He didn’t seem that upset,” she lied. She dropped her backpack on the desk. “He actually told me I’d be crazy to pass up this opportunity.”

  “Sit down and tell me about this opportunity.” Angela deposited herself in a chair and set the cake on the desk. “And maybe you could find us some coffee to go with this.”

  “Sure.” Tanya hurried down the hall to the break room, grateful for the chance to organize her thoughts a little better before she faced her friend. She hadn’t kept the news about the job offer secret because she felt it was something she had to hide, but because she’d hoped to avoid unnecessarily upsetting her friends and family. If she decided to turn down the offer, it would be easier on all concerned if they never knew. Those who wanted her to stay wouldn’t have to be distressed, and no one could tell her later that she’d made the wrong decision—whatever decision she made.

  When she returned with two mugs of coffee, napkins and a knife with which to cut the cake, Angela was standing by the office window, admiring the view. The large picture window framed a postcard-worthy scene of alpine meadow studded with purple aster and yellow daisies, the mountain slopes awash in golden aspen rising in the background. Red Lady, the mountain nearest and dearest to the town, thrust her craggy peak over all. “I bet you don’t get views like this in L.A.,” Angela said.

  “No.” The view was definitely special. “But there are other compensations.”

  Her expression grim, Angela returned to her chair and served the cake. Tanya picked a chocolate chip from her slice and popped it into her mouth, stalling.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” Angela prompted.

  Maybe talking about it would help Tanya sort out her thoughts. “A production company is launching a new series and they want me to be in it,” she said. “My agent sent me the script to read. That’s all.”

  “So what do you think of it? Is it any good?”

  “It’s amazing. One of those stories I think would really involve viewers.”

  “And the role—is it a good one?”

  “It’s a great one. Lots of range.” The kind of role she’d always wanted.

  “Taking the part would mean moving back to Hollywood, right?” Angela asked.

  “Yes.” That was the big sticking point, wasn’t it? If she could stay in Crested Butte and take the role, she wouldn’t hesitate. But leaving town meant returning to a lifestyle that had generated its share of bad memories. “I haven’t decided if I’m going to take it,” she said.

  Angela looked away, blinking rapidly.

  “Don’t cry!” Tanya protested. “I haven’t left yet.”

  Angela sniffed. “Bryan seemed to think your mind was made up.”

  “Only because Jack assumed that. Men!” She took a large bite of cake.

  “So you really are thinking of turning down the offer?” Angela asked. “I mean, this is a great place to raise a child. And you have lots of friends here.” She looked thoughtful. “And maybe there’s something—or someone—here you love even more than acting.”

  Tanya’s stomach fluttered and she pushed away her half-eaten piece of cake. “What are you talking about?”

  “You and Jack have been quite the pair since you came back to town.”

  Angela’s words made Tanya and Jack’s relationship sound like a line item in a Hollywood gossip column, but Tanya’s feelings went far deeper than that. Jack was the one person in the world who knew her better than anyone. He had loved her as an awkward girl and as an eager young woman, and she had been sure he loved her as a mature, flawed woman who had made her share of mistakes.

  But his reaction to the possibility of her leaving had made her doubt the depth of his feelings. Yes, he’d asked her and Annie to live with him, but that wasn’t exactly a declaration of undying passion. And he’d been so quick to enumerate the reasons she should leave him. Did that mean he wanted her to go? “He didn’t even try to persuade me to stay here,” she said.

  “Maybe he didn’t want to speak in front of a lot of other people,” Angela said. “Maybe he was too stunned to think of anything to say.”

  “Or maybe my staying or going isn’t really that important to him,” she said. “Maybe he sees these past few weeks together as a nostalgic visit to his youth, and not something he would take into the future.”

  “Maybe you’re looking at this from a negative perspective,” Angela said. “Jack’s a guy. He’s not going to plead with you—he probably sees it as begging—in front of his friends.”

  “I haven’t heard from him since last night,” Tanya said. “He could have called or come by.”

  “He’s brooding. He’s waiting for you to come to him.”

  “How do you know that?” Tanya asked.

  Angela shrugged. “I read it in some relationship book. It’s how some men deal with emotional stuff—by hiding in their cave and stewing.”

  “Or maybe he really doesn�
��t care.”

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Angela said. “Believe me, he cares.”

  “So I’m supposed to give up the chance to rebuild my career for the sake of a sulking man who may or may not love me enough to make my sacrifice worthwhile?”

  “If you see it as a sacrifice, no one could ever make it worthwhile,” Angela said. “But there are other reasons to stay in Crested Butte. Me, for instance.”

  “You and I will still be friends, no matter where I live,” Tanya said firmly. “I’ll come back to see everyone. And you can visit me and Annie in Hollywood anytime. In fact, I’ll expect it.”

  “But I won’t have you here prodding me to be a better actress, making me push myself out of my comfort zone both onstage and in my personal life,” Angela said. “The whole theater company would suffer without you.”

  “You’d find someone else who was just as good or better than I am.”

  “It wouldn’t be the same. And what about your mom and dad? And Annie? What do they think about the idea of you returning to California?”

  “I haven’t said anything to them yet. But Mom and Dad were okay when I left before.” They might even welcome having their house to themselves again. “And Annie is young enough to be flexible. Living in California would put her closer to her father, also.” Not that Stuart went out of his way to see his daughter much when they were living there before.

  “What about the fact that this is your home?” Angela asked.

  Tanya shook her head. “Sometimes it’s good to get away from home, to stand on your own feet and see what you’re made of.”

  “You’ve already done that,” Angela said. “You were away for ten years.”

  “And I failed.” There. She’d said it. The big, ugly truth she lived with every day was out. She’d left here promising to make a name for herself, and had run back with her tail between her legs when that hadn’t happened. “This would be a chance to do better,” she said. “Maybe this role will be the one that would really make me a star.”

  “Do you really think you failed?” Angela stared. “You had a major role in a top-rated show for four years.”