by Karen Grey
I drop my backpack on a kitchen chair. “It’s just that we’re both so busy.” I pick up the answering machine and turn it over. “Isn’t there a skip feature or something?”
Pam jumps up to paw through the junk drawer. “There must be a way you can program the thing so that the person chooses who to leave the message for. Aha! Got the manual.” She sits down, nose in the booklet. The woman loves her manuals.
Deb leans on the counter and gives me her are-you-okay look. “So, things got serious with this girl pretty quick.”
“You’re the ones who wanted me to get back out there again!” Pam snaps her fingers at me, eyes still on the manual. I put the machine in front of her and then open the fridge. I only have half an hour before I have to leave for work and I’m starving.
Deb reaches around me and pulls out a Tupperware container. “Just making sure you’re not getting in too deep, too fast. We don’t really know this girl.”
“Deb.” I grab a bowl and scoop up some of whatever’s in the container. “You said it was a good thing that she’s not from ‘our world.’ You said I needed to have fun.” I put the bowl in the microwave and hand the Tupperware back to her. “I promise you we have been having fun. In fact, last night we—”
“Okay, okay. I don’t need to hear details. We just miss you. And you seem tired.” Deb tips her chin toward the microwave. “Don’t heat that for too long. It’ll get rubbery.”
“The show opens in a week, so I’ve been taking extra shifts at the bar when I can.” I pull the bowl from the microwave, and Deb hands me a fork. “And the late-night visits with Kate do cut into my sleep, but I like spending time with her. She’s different.” I shove a big forkful into my mouth. “What is this anyway?”
She peers at it. “Not sure. Something my mom sent home after we went over there for dinner. Some casserole.”
“Well, thanks, Mom.”
Pam waves the manual at us. “I figured it out. Going to program it now. But get ready, you’ll have to say your name into it when I point at you.”
As bossy and annoying as they are, I do miss spending time with these two. I also missed my basketball game this week. But things feel really good with Kate right now. It’s definitely worth a little lost sleep.
Once the show opens, I’ll have more time and things will balance out.
One way or another.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BEEP. FRIDAY, 4:20 p.m.
Hey, it’s me. Just letting you know that there are tickets for you at the box office for opening night next Friday. Oh, and there’s a party after the show at our house. I hope I’ll see you before then, though this weekend is probably a wash since I’ll be practically living at the theater. Okay… see you soon, I hope.
KATE
“I feel like I’m dating a vampire,” I confess to Alice over our post-run breakfast Saturday morning. “It’s been weeks since I saw Will in the daylight.”
“That’s so romantic,” Alice sighs. She’s been grumping about the current drought in her sex life. “Does he have any cute actor friends?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t met any.”
“Wouldn’t it be cool if there was a way you could just look them all up? Like, see their pictures? Like the face books Harvard made for us. Those should be everywhere.”
“Maybe you should start that up.” Alice is always coming up with crazy ideas.
“Maybe I will. Anyway, Will sounds like the perfect guy to me.” She points at me with a piece of bacon. “Does he make a mess in your bathroom?”
“He’s never even left the toilet seat up.”
“Don’t know what you’re complaining about then.”
She’s got a point. I’m not lying awake at night worrying about my career anymore. Or running spreadsheets over and over through my mind. I’m still bothered about that Chase Mills situation, though, and all the other situations that I must’ve been blind to in the past where stockholder gains were worker losses.
Alice taps my plate with her fork. “So, how can I get me an actor?”
I set down my coffee cup. “How about coming to opening night of Will’s play with me? There’s a party after.”
Alice’s round face widens into a grin. “Hot guys onstage and a party? I’m in.”
“Well, I can’t guarantee hot guys. Like I said, I haven’t met anyone but his roommates.”
“Are they cute?”
“They’re girls. Women,” I correct.
“You’re not jealous that he lives with women?”
“They’re… together. Like a couple.”
“Oh. Well, that’s cool, I guess.” Her fork’s poised over the sausage I haven’t touched. “You gonna eat that?”
“Nah, go ahead.” I finish the last dregs of my coffee and consider asking for more.
Her mouth full, Alice says, “I don’t think I’ve ever met a lesbian couple.”
“I hadn’t.” I picture the bickering pair and their beautiful home. “I like Deb and Pam, though. They’re funny.”
Alice nudges me under the table. “Speaking of jealousy, is Will worried that you’re going out of town with Steve?”
“I haven’t actually told him.” I slide my empty cup back and forth across the table. “I mean, it’s a work trip. Why should he care?”
Perfectly plucked half-moon eyebrows rise as Alice gives me a skeptical look. “Because the guy you’re going with is so good-looking you nicknamed him Hot Steve?”
“I didn’t give him that nickname.” I wave the idea away. “Anyway, Will knows I barely get along with the guy. That reminds me—I have a lot to do today to get ready for the trip. I’m meeting Steve at two to go over everything. We should get the check.” I crane my neck and catch the waitress’s eye, mouthing “check” to her with a hopeful smile.
“You’re not going to hang out with Will today? Won’t he be disappointed?”
“Can’t risk him turning to salt or whatever it is vampires do in daylight.” I straighten up my plate and utensils. “Seriously, though, it’s just as well I have to work. He has something called ‘ten-out-of-twelves’ this weekend, which means rehearsal all day and half the night. Both days. Then I head out of town early Monday.”
“Cosmo would be proud of you. Keep your guy guessing; keep him on the hunt to drive him wild. But I think I’d better find a cute actor to take home after the play so you can skedaddle with Will.” She pulls a credit card from her fanny pack. “If you’ll get the tickets, I’ll get this.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Do you want to run tomorrow, too?”
“If you can, that’d be great. It’ll help me with my nerves about the trip.”
“So would more sex,” she sing-songs.
I huff out a laugh. “That’s you, not me.” According to Alice, sex cures all ills.
“There’s research on it somewhere. I’m sure I’ve read it.”
I throw a napkin at her. “What, in Playgirl?”
“Well, it probably wasn’t in the New England Journal of Medicine.” She smirks and then tips her head to study me. “I’m glad you’re finally getting laid. You look… satisfied.”
Even though I know it’ll open the door for more ribbing from her, I nod. “I kind of have to agree. This… thing with him is not a thing I ever pictured myself having.” I run a finger around the edge of the coffee mug. “He’s not at all intimidated by my ambition. He seems to appreciate… all of me.”
I shake my head at a memory from Will’s visit last night. Our lovemaking started in bed but ended on the floor in some very creative positions.
“Oh my,” Alice purrs. “I want to know what you’re thinking about.”
“I can’t tell this story in public.” I shudder with the remembered pleasure. “But it’s a good one.”
“You can tell me in the car on the way home. I can’t believe I’m living vicariously through you these days. Definitely have to get me an actor of my own.” Rising, Alice tips her head toward
the front of the diner, where a very attractive man waits to be seated. “Or maybe I’ll start with that guy.”
I shake my head as she sashays toward the cash register. Gotta love that girl.
At the end of a long day full of back-to-back meetings, after we stow my easel and posters, Steve takes a long drag off his cigarette and pats the trunk of his shiny BMW. “Another day, another dime.”
“Ha. I hope we earned at least a roll of dimes.” I get into the passenger side and relax into the comfy leather seat. “Thanks again for driving.”
He turns his golden-boy smile on me as he starts the engine. “Are you kidding? Driving my 325i is the best part of my day.”
I tilt the seat back further and close my eyes. “If one more old man tells me I’d be prettier if I smiled more, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”
“Well…” I can hear a wince in Steve’s voice.
“Jeez, not you, too.” I scrub my hands over my face, muscles tired from the forced smiles I did manage to muster.
He stubs out his cigarette and shuts the ashtray. Thankfully, he’s trying to quit, so if a meeting goes well, he only smokes one on the walk back to the car. We’re both quiet as he navigates out of Hartford and shifts through gears to accelerate up the ramp to the Mass Pike toward Boston, our tour of New England institutional investors finally at an end.
He points to the back seat at his boxes of cassettes. Which is alphabetized. “You get to pick the tunage for the ride home.”
“Wow, I feel so special.” I peruse the collection. “How many of these cassette clubs do you belong to, anyway?”
“You gotta work it. Join, get the free tapes and then quit as soon as you can and move on to the next one.”
“Sounds like a way of life.”
“It is.” His sigh of satisfaction does not seem to include any irony. “I like having all my music available.”
I reach back for the end of the alphabet since we’ve been through most of the A-G box—Aerosmith, Bon Jovi, Def Leppard, lots of Guns N’ Roses—groaning as I haul T-Z into my lap. “If only these weren’t so heavy.” Then I pull out the sole U2 album and stick The Joshua Tree into his fancy stereo. Our first few outings, he wouldn’t let me touch it, but now I’m allowed since I read the manual.
I’m not kidding.
I close my eyes again to listen to the opening of “Where the Streets Have No Name,” the keyboard, guitar and drums building to the lyrics. The words poke around in my brain and eventually I sit up to face the music. “Okay, hit me with it. I want to run and hide like Bono here, but I do want to do a good job.”
Steve bobs his head along with the music as he passes a semi. “We’re close. I mean, you’re not overwhelming them with too much information anymore, but honestly…” He side-eyes me. “Promise you won’t hit me?”
“Yes,” I groan.
“Well, you could smile more.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “I thought I was supposed to be the serious one.”
“You are. They need you to be the authority, and they need to trust that you’ve got all the details covered so they can make these buys without having to think too hard. But you’re cute when you smile, and I think if you bump up the charm, we’ll get to the point where Rhodes Wahler will start sending us out to court new accounts, not just hang onto old ones.” He wags a finger at me. “And that’s where the bonus money comes in.”
I bat his hand away. “I guess.”
“How do you think I can afford this baby?” He caresses the spotless dash and glances at me, brows up.
“I’m guessing from last year’s bonus.”
“Just think. You could trade in your ancient Volvo.” He punches my shoulder, now bruised from this habit of his. “Which you can never ever drive to a client meeting. If anyone sees that thing, they won’t believe a word you say.”
Not only is my Volvo the only thing my parents trust to get me through a Boston winter, but I love her. Ancient, my foot. She’s only six years old. No matter what Steve says, I have no need to impress anyone with a brand-new car every year. I just want to impress clients enough with actual facts and figures so they buy what we’re selling.
However, he’s probably right about the other thing. I have to be a salesman, too.
“Okay, okay. I’ll smile more.” I bare my teeth at him.
He glances at me briefly, sputtering out a half laugh as he returns his eyes to the road. “Yeah, you gotta work on that.”
Friday night, sitting with Alice waiting for the play to begin, I’m glad I’m not the one who has to stand before this huge crowd and speak words the audience won’t understand, hoping they’ll sit politely and listen anyway. Of course, Will does this all the time. He said he does get nervous, especially on opening night when reviewers are there, but he channels the adrenaline using his famous breathing techniques. According to him, that’s what creates stage presence.
Alice nudges me. “Can you believe we’ve run by here a bazillion times and never noticed this place?”
The theater tucked away in the woods along the Charles River isn’t a building, but there are permanent structures: rows of seats on a gentle slope, large towers that hold lighting equipment, and a wooden stage. Tall panels flank the platform, the woods and the river peeking between them. More panels screen areas to the left and right. I figure that’s the backstage area.
“I know. The trees seem to block the traffic noise. It’s a wonder they have an audience since it’s kind of hard to find.”
Alice taps a finger over pursed lips. “Hmmm. Maybe they need to hire a good publicist to get the word out.”
“Honey, they can’t afford your firm. Unless you talk your boss into taking it on gratis.”
“Or I could do a trade for sexual favors. But first, I have to see how many cute actors this company has.” She opens her program. “I wonder if there’re pictures of them in here.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
She hums as she flips through the shiny booklet. “That’s why you love me.”
The instrumental music that’s been playing over loudspeakers begins to fade in tandem with the lights over the audience. Alice grabs my hand and squeezes. I squeeze back. It would’ve been weird to come all by myself. We did see Deb and Pam, who gave me big hugs before explaining that they had to sit in the back with the director. Deb echoed Will’s invitation to come to the party at their house after the show.
Once the lights have dimmed completely, I look up. It’s a beautiful summer night. Stars wink overhead, and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. I’m wondering what they do in the case of rain when a trumpet sounds. My gaze drops to the stage, now lit, where a line of actors processes, Will among them.
“He looks good in black,” Alice murmurs in my ear.
“It’s kind of funny seeing him without a vest,” I whisper back.
“Shhh!” someone hisses from behind us. I stifle a giggle.
The story isn’t so hard to follow, especially since I’ve heard lots of the dialogue while helping Will memorize his part. Even when I don’t get what they’re saying, what’s happening is pretty clear.
Will hasn’t talked much about the actress who plays the female lead, who has a commanding presence and a beautiful voice that easily fills the space. She’s pretty, too, with a rosy complexion and blond ringlets cascading down her back. I beat back flames of jealousy that threaten to grow from glowing embers of worry. I have to trust that Will is with me and only me, despite the fact that he’s literally surrounded by beauty in all shapes, ages and colors.
More perturbing, however, is Will’s transformation. From the moment he walks on stage, Will—or rather, his character Bertram—is a total jerk. His posture, the way he moves, even his voice, which carries a sneer I’ve never heard from that mouth, combine to create a guy that I would not want to be with.
I’m glad I’ve never seen this side of him before, but the fact that it lives inside him somewhere has my bell
y clenching with dread. If it exists, could it be directed at me someday?
Before I know it, the scene where Will seduces Jessica—or rather her character, Diana—has arrived. As soon as I hear, “They told me that your name was Fontibell,” my heart drops to my gut. Watching them perform the familiar words is so different than lounging next to Will while he recites them. His eyes hold desire that Jessica’s return. Not only that, but she winds her body around his in a seductive dance that has him literally on his knees before he sweeps her up in his strong arms and carries her off the stage.
And then it hits me. Jessica, petite with large breasts and dark, curly hair, looks a lot like the woman Jonathan took up with. The day after he gave me the it’s-your-job-or-me ultimatum.
Crossing my arms and legs, I fight the bile rising in my throat. All I can see is the scene in my mind. Jonathan saying that if I loved him, I’d follow him to Indiana and support him through med school. That my job didn’t matter anyway since I’d have to leave it when I had kids. That women don’t have the right temperament for finance. Frustrated with his stupid arguments, I’d stormed out even as he shouted that if I left, things were over between us. “Things” meaning a three-and-a-half year relationship. The next day, I’d returned, calmer, hoping to get him to see my point of view. But when I opened the door to his room, he was asleep. Naked. With a buxom brunette in bed next to him.
Images of Will and Jessica blur with those of Jonathan and that girl. I look over at Alice, hoping she can pull me out of this emotional quicksand, but she’s completely absorbed in the play.
Right. It’s a play. These are actors. It’s all pretend.
I’m not sure how I managed to get down the steps and away from the crowd and through the parking lot. At the moment, my hands are pressed against the side of my car.
Fumbling with my keys, I can’t seem to catch my breath or unlock the door. “I’m sorry. I had to get out of there.”
Alice takes over. “Here, let me.” She opens the car door. “Sit down. Do you have any water bottles in here?” She opens the back door and reaches under the seat. “Yep! Here you go. Take some small sips.”
