Synopsis
If you don’t get lost, there’s a chance you may never be found.
Jenna McGovern has spent her whole life training for the stage. She’s taken dance classes, voice lessons, and even earned her performance degree from one of the most prestigious musical theater programs in the nation. At graduation, she’s stunned when a chance audition lands her a prime supporting role in the hottest Broadway touring production in the country. In more exciting news, Jenna discovers acclaimed television star Adrienne Kenyon is headlining the production.
Jenna settles easily in to life on tour and has a promising career laid out in front of her, if only she plays her cards right. She’s waited for this opportunity her entire life and will let nothing stand in her way. The one thing she didn’t prepare for, however, was Adrienne. Her new costar is talented, beautiful, generous, and the utmost professional. As the two women grow closer onstage and off, they must learn how to fit each other into a demanding lifestyle full of unexpected twists and difficult decisions. But is Jenna ready to sacrifice what she’s worked so hard for in exchange for a shot at something much deeper?
Waiting in the Wings
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Waiting in the Wings
© 2011 By Melissa Brayden. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-597-0
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: September 2011
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Cindy Cresap
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
Acknowledgments
I truly believe that passion is life’s greatest motivation. It makes anything possible. I know that it was passion, and not my literary prowess, that allowed me to write this novel. I’ve been a teller of stories, in many different capacities, for as long as I can remember. However, this is the first time I’ve attempted to create a story of my own. Without the following people, there’s no doubt in my mind I would have crashed and burned. Tremendous thanks to:
Radclyffe and the team at Bold Strokes Books, for giving me this opportunity, risky as it was. You offered me guidance early and it made all the difference. I hope this is just the beginning.
Sheri, for a stunning cover that encapsulates more than you realize.
Cindy Cresap, for teaching me an amazing amount about writing. Working with you was an invaluable experience and your patience, wit, and keen eye for detail saved me. I dream about dialogue tags now and that’s a good thing. Thank you for making me better. You’re amazing at what you do.
Becki, for consistently rooting for me. I always know you’re in my corner.
My parents, for taking me to the Apollo Victoria when I was eight years old. You started it all.
Dedication
For Krissy and Alan, who get me.
Chapter One
“How soon can you be in New York?” That’s how the call began. I hadn’t bothered to check the caller ID before answering because I was preoccupied with the fifteen thousand things I was trying to accomplish to be out of my apartment and on my way to the city in the next four days.
“I’m sorry. Who is this?” Not my nicest phone voice, but I was busy.
“It’s Andrew Latham from the Journey Agency. Come on, Jenna, tell me I made a better impression on you than that.” I cringed. In an embarrassing turn of events, it was my new agent I’d just barked at, also known as the guy who held all my cards in his slick little hands. I was immediately nervous and cursing myself for the oversight. Automatically, I stood and stared at myself in the mirror above my dresser. My first observation was that I was a total mess, as I’d been packing for the move most of the day. I straightened the bandana holding back my blond hair I’d let grow long for casting purposes, and reminded myself that Andrew Latham couldn’t see me and to relax and hold it together.
“Sorry, Mr. Latham. I think we had a bad connection at first. How are you?”
“Excellent! How’s does it finally feel to have that diploma under your belt?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but Andrew Latham had no intention of slowing down.
“Listen, I have an audition I’d like to submit you for immediately.”
“Oh, wow…I’m, uh…I’m thrilled to hear that. You have no idea.” Yeah, those were the words I heard leave my mouth. Way to play it cool there, Jenna.
I’d met Andrew Latham briefly at my senior showcase. The house had been full of agents and industry people scouting out the newly minted talent, and I’d been handed quite a few cards after my performance. Two days later, the Journey Agency offered to represent me, and of course I’d leapt at the opportunity. It doesn’t get much better when you’re twenty-three with only college and regional acting experience.
I’d just graduated from the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music and with no job lined up, I was off to New York at the end of the week, along with my fellow out-of-work classmates, to wait tables until I found a way into the business. Not the sturdiest game plan, but it’s all I had. “I’d like to hear a little bit more about the part, but any audition is welcome at this point.”
“Perfect!” he bellowed back at me. “I’m going to level with you. This casting notice came out this morning and they’re starting to see girls for the part tomorrow. I thought of you immediately. It’s ensemble work for a touring musical and they need someone yesterday. You fit the breakdown and I’d like to get you in there ASAP. Can you be in New York tomorrow?”
I thought for a moment. Could I? There was a lot I had to accomplish to be out of the apartment, and the plane ticket I’d purchased wasn’t until the end of the week, but surely I needed to make this happen. I had nothing else going for me. “Of course I can,” I said. “What do I need to prepare?”
“Come with a song, a monologue, and wear comfortable clothes for the dance audition. I have your e-mail address, and my assistant Debbie is going to send you the details of the call on Wednesday.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep my eyes open for it, Mr. Latham,” I said numbly, my mind racing. Surely, there were questions I should be asking, but I was still all kinds of flustered.
“Great, we’ll talk soon,” he said. And then he was gone. Just like that.
I stared at the receiver in my hand. Had that really just happened? It had. An opportunity had fallen into my lap and it was time to jump. I promptly threw away everything in the pile I was sorting through and opened my laptop to see about that plane ticket.
*
New York City in June was crowded and hot and wonderful. I couldn’t get over the bustling streets and the feeling there was so much going on in such a small radius. I’d managed to book a hotel room on Priceline located only five blocks from the rehearsal studio where the auditions were taking place.
I got up early that morning, wanting to take my time and hit Starbucks before my ten a.m. audition slot. As I sipped my vanilla latte, I talked myself through the beats I needed to hit in my monologue from Hatful of Rain and the breath
ing techniques that would carry my voice to the high note in “Life of the Party,” the song I’d chosen to sing.
By the time I arrived at the rehearsal studio, I’d talked myself into a serene state of mind. This was my zone. This was the place I’d gotten myself to mentally when I’d snagged role after role at CCM. It was all a matter of showing these people what I was capable of. After that, it was out of my hands. That was my mantra and that’s what I would repeat over and over until it was my turn.
The casting notice Andrew Latham had sent my way was fairly vague. They were looking for a twenty-something actress to replace a girl from a touring production of a Broadway show. It was an equity show, so the fact I already had my union card from my regional work helped.
I entered the small waiting area and saw three rows of girls who all looked, well, a lot like me. I felt immediately inconsequential, but reminded myself that was not the mentality that was going to get me anywhere near Broadway. I was going to have to prove myself every step of the way. That shouldn’t be a surprise and it was time to suck it up. I reported to the clearly irritated young guy collecting the headshots. “All right…Jenna.” He scratched his chin and made notes on his all-powerful clipboard. “Have a seat and look over this scene.” He handed me the sides to study without ever looking back up. “If they like you, they may have you read.”
As I sat, the title of the show caught my eye and I felt my breath catch in my throat. The show I was reading for was Clean Slate, winner of last year’s Tony Award and the hardest ticket to come by in town. The tour had kicked off a few months ago and starred Adrienne Kenyon in the lead role of Evan. She’d already gotten a slew of amazing reviews and the tour was still in its early stages. I felt my “zone” start to crumble away. This was monumental. This was an opportunity of a lifetime. This was so out of my league.
Before I had a chance to reflect on this new development any further, Irritated Guy called my name and sent me into the audition room. A long table was set up across the room, comprised of five people. I introduced myself to the panel and handed my music to the accompanist when I saw Dermot Levonshire sitting among those at the table. I was about to audition for not just casting agents, but for the director of Clean Slate and about six other successful Broadway shows. I swallowed hard.
As the music began to play, I felt everything slow down. My voice felt strong, which gave me courage. I did my best to let each note resonate, staying light and delicate on the fun parts of the song, and then moving into the power notes, holding eye contact with each member of that table in rotation. Fearless, I had to show them I was fearless. As the song began to crescendo, I made sure to control my belt and let the emotion of the lyrics come through. I added a little bit of movement and ended the song with the playful grin that would hopefully show my carefree side as well.
When I finished, the table applauded and consulted with one another quietly. Finally, the middle-aged woman sitting in the center of the group introduced herself. “Jenna, I’m Brenda Herring, one of the casting directors on the show. I think we collectively enjoy your voice but would like to see more from you. Would you mind reading the scene with Brent?”
Would I mind? No, I didn’t mind. Wouldn’t be a problem. Brent, the actor onsite for the reading, strolled over and took a seat on the stool next to me. I took a final glance at the sides and tossed the paper to the floor. The premise was for me to seduce Brent and end the scene by taking his face in my hands and kissing him. The guy-thing was not my forte, but I was an actress and a damn good one. I went for it, and even took it one step further and ended our exchange in his lap. I realize it was a bold move, but I felt it in the moment and I’ve always been one to let my instinct carry me.
The panel across the room once again conferred quietly while I waited in silence. “Jenna, can you come back at four for a dance audition?” I stared at them. Yep, I could do that.
“Sure. Should I prepare something?” I was trying my best to appear confident.
“No, Todd, our assistant choreographer, will teach you a few combinations from the show and we’ll see how it goes. Thanks, Jenna, see you at four.”
I was dismissed. I picked up my dance bag and started the walk back to my hotel. On the way there, I took out Andrew Latham’s card and dialed his number.
“Jenna, Jenna, Jenna, my favorite new client, how’d it go?” The background noise he was talking over made it sound like he was in a car somewhere…and possibly eating something.
“I think it went well. I mean, I got a callback at four to dance. Listen, Mr. Latham, did you—”
“Latham.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Call me Latham, no more mister. It kills me. If I’m going to represent you, let’s try to lose that formality.” Another bite. What, was that an apple?
“Okay…Latham,” I said carefully, “Did you know this was an audition for the tour of Clean Slate?”
“I did and I think you’d be great for it. Listen, don’t let the credibility of the show fuck with your head. Go back there later today, dance like you did when I first saw you at your college showcase, and that’s all we can ask for. Right?”
“Right, right. Okay. I’ll go back and dance.” Simple as that. I put my phone back in my bag and finished the walk to my hotel. Once there, I lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Antsy, I grabbed the orange I’d left on my nightstand, threw it into the air, and caught it with my right hand. This was somewhat of a ritual for me. A way to sort things out when I had a lot on my mind. As I watched the orange rise and fall back into my hand over and over again, I admitted to myself there was no way this was going to happen. No way. Do not get your hopes up. Don’t go there.
And I didn’t. When I returned to the studio at four, I had convinced myself this was an audition for fun and to gain a little experience. I wasn’t going to involve myself emotionally because that would only lead to disappointment. But when five o’clock rolled around and the twelve girls I’d learned the dance combination with became five, it was hard to stop the wheels in my head from turning.
During one of the five-minute breaks, I shuffled through my bag for a bottle of water as one of the other girls casually sat next to me on the floor. “Is it just me or are those last five eight counts ridiculously hard to hit after only ten minutes of instruction?” She shook her head and retied her shoe.
The truth was they weren’t that difficult for me, but I didn’t want to come off too self-assured. “No, they’re definitely making us work for it with that finish.” Despite her complaint, however, I’d noticed this girl earlier and she was good. She was smaller than me, with short dark hair that bounced when she danced. True, she was behind a half step on the first few run-throughs, but her movements were crisp and clean. She was my toughest competition.
“I’m Elaine Rowe by the way. Lanie.” Her eyes narrowed. “I think you can pack it in though, the job is mine.” As I began to raise my eyebrows in surprise, a huge grin erupted on her face and she nudged my shoulder with hers. “Ah, I’m just screwin’ with you. You’re good. What’s your name?”
“Jenna,” I replied. “And I don’t think you have much to worry about. You’re pretty good yourself.”
“Oh, well, thanks. I haven’t seen you at one of these before. Are you new? After a while you get used to the same old faces at audition after audition.”
“Just finished school, actually. I guess you could say I’m getting my feet wet with this one.”
“Aha. Fresh off the boat, huh?” Lanie studied me carefully and nodded before glancing over her shoulder at the meeting across the room breaking up. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, kiddo, but I think Todd and company are ready to get on with things. I guess we should head back over. Break a leg. You’ll need it,” she said playfully, “cause I’m clearly their favorite.” Just for good measure, she glanced back and shook her head at me, pointing out that she knew she wasn’t. I laughed.
“You too, Lanie, thanks.” We headed back
to our spots in the dance formation. It was nice to have a friendly face in the midst of this process. Lanie looked to be maybe four or five years older than me and therefore probably came with more experience. It would be cool to talk to her more and bend her ear about the business, if she was willing, of course. But that would have to wait until later.
The audition continued and continued and continued. God, did it continue. Even though I’d never been to an audition of this caliber, I knew this was going on for quite a bit longer than normal. Once the dance audition concluded, they still had each one of us read one final scene before thanking us for our time.
“We’ll be in touch,” was all they said, which sucked because I was dying to know how I’d done and what they were thinking. Instead, I started on my way home for the night. I’d done my best and I’d made it past a lot of other folks. That’s something to hold on to. I’d gotten about two blocks from the studio when my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and saw it was coming from Latham’s cell phone.
“I don’t know where you are,” he said upon my answering, “but turn yourself around and go back. They want to see you again.”
“Now?” I stopped in my tracks on the street, causing the guy behind me to slam into my dance bag. “Sorry,” I called to him as he passed, muttering curse words at me.
“Yes, now. They’re waiting for you. You must be doing something right.”
I sighed, though it was laced with hope. “On my way.”
I opened the door to the studio and found the room empty. I dropped my bag and began to quickly change back into my dance shoes, just in case. Before I could get the left one on, Lanie walked in the room and glanced around expectantly. “Hey. Any idea what’s up?”
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