“That was a sloppy delivery, Leah.”
I looked at Dr. Patterson in shock. The professor had never said anything but good things about my acting skills aside from the odd bit of constructive criticism.
“Try to draw your attention back to the room, if you will.”
I nodded, but the coaching shook me.
“Marco, tell me you didn’t sleep with another woman,” I said to the dark-skinned Italian who was my partner for the scene. “I need to hear it from your lips.”
Inwardly, I winced. I hadn’t practiced the scene at all in the run up to my other audition, and it showed.
“Bella, you know you’re the only one for me.” David took my hand and knelt down in front of me. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to stay by your side. Please, let me stay.”
It was an eerie echo of the conversation I’d had with Chris earlier that day. It was hard not to see his face on the man who knelt down in front of me. I tore my hand out of his grasp and turned away, tears springing to my eyes.
“Tell me,” I said. “Speak the words, or I’ll never talk to you again.”
“I…” he faltered. “I can’t, Bella. I can’t lie to you. But it meant nothing. Please, you have to believe it! I thought you were dead!”
“And how long after you thought I died did you sleep with that whore?” I said. “No, Marco. This is the end. Goodbye.”
I walked across the stage, exiting the scene to applause from the small group of classmates watching.
David stood and held his hand out as I came back to him, and we turned and gave a little half bow to the room.
“Much stronger on the finish,” Dr. Patterson said. “Good recovery, Leah. That was well done. You’ve always been great at summoning genuine emotion, and that’s one of the hardest things for an actress to learn.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said.
David and I climbed off the small stage, and the next pairing stood up to take their turn.
“Nice save,” David whispered. “I thought we would get crucified there.”
“Sorry about that,” I said. “I’ve got a lot on my mind—I had my audition for the play yesterday. I don’t know how it went, but I didn’t get much of a chance to look over the scene.”
“Don’t worry about it, you’re a natural. I’m always happy when I draw you as a partner for a scene. I think you’re the best actress in the class.”
The praise made me sit up a little taller in the seat. “Thank you, David. That’s nice of you to say. I like working with you, too.”
He winked at me and we watched the rest of the scene. Debbie and Drew were giving it their best, but a part of me couldn’t help analyzing their performance and pointing out all the flaws I saw.
Drew had a tendency to overdramatize, and it came out in his voice even when he thought he was doing a good job repressing it. He was getting better, but if he didn’t improve faster, he’d never do anything more than the odd commercial for the rest of his life.
Debbie was better, but she had little control over her inflection. No matter how excited her face said she was, her voice just wasn’t able to reflect the same enthusiasm. It was the same for any emotion she tried to put on, and it made her hard to work with. The one scene we’d had together had been a disaster.
When they finished, Dr. Patterson gave them their feedback.
“Mostly good, you two. Debbie, when you’re telling Drew how you feel, try to express yourself more. Pretend like you’re talking to an old boyfriend and really push that emotion through your voice. Drew, you need to tone it down. You’re great at projecting your voice, but it makes your voice sound unnatural. Try to inject more realism into it, and if you have to, I would even sacrifice volume until you have it under control.”
They climbed off the stage to make way for the next pair.
“Hey, Leah,” David said. “I heard that you broke up with your boyfriend, and I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with me on the weekend. There’s this band playing a show down at the Roundabout, and I thought you might like them.”
“David… are you asking me on a date?” It was a day I never thought I’d see. Rumors churned about the handsome Italian, foremost among them that he was gay.
“I thought I’d try my hand. I didn’t want to wait too long. The last couple times you were single, it lasted for a day or two.”
I’d gotten a reputation for that. Call me a serial monogamist, but it felt strange to be single. It felt like every time I left a guy, there was someone just waiting in the wings ready to step up to the plate.
“You noticed that? I didn’t think you were… interested that way.” It wasn’t a bad thing; half the guys in the program were gay.
He laughed. “I’m used to that. Just because I like guys means I can’t like girls, too? Seems like I’d be missing out on half the fun in the world. I don’t pick sides.”
Wow. That’s kind of cool. I’d never been with a man who’d been with another man before. Part of me wondered what it would be like.
Even still, I’d have to decline. “Look, David, you’re cool, and I’m flattered that you look at me like that, but I don’t know.”
“I promise you nothing but a good time. We can just go as friends, if it makes it easier.”
It was hard to say no to him.
Why am I saying no, anyway? Because it’s too soon?
As much as I wanted to believe that was the reason, I knew why I wanted to turn down David’s invitation.
You and Chris can’t happen. You told him that, and you told yourself that. This is the perfect chance to get your mind off him.
Besides, as much as Chris was the wrong type of guy, David might well be the right type. He was handsome, intelligent. A fellow actor, so he would understand the pressures it could bring, especially when we got out of school and pursued professional careers.
And he had no part in the violence and danger that defined Chris’ life. David was safe.
“You know what? Screw it. Let’s go on a date, David. Thanks for inviting me.”
He grinned. “It’s my pleasure, Leah. We’ll have a ball.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out. It was the people from the play. I’d saved their number when they called to give me the audition.
“Give me a second!”
I edged my way out of the row and out the doors at the back of the class, being as quick and quiet as I could.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Miss Allen?”
“Yes, speaking.” My heart thumped in my chest.
“This is Annabelle from the Troubadour theater company, I’m calling to let you know that you’ve gotten the role of Annie. Congratulations!”
I couldn’t help it, I whooped.
“Yes!” I brought the phone back up to my ear. “Sorry about that. You’re sure?”
Annabelle laughed. “Oh, yes, you were miles better than any of the other actors auditioning. The panel knew right away.”
And I was so worried!
“Oh, thank you so much for this!” I danced from side to side, unable to hold in the happiness I felt.
“I’m glad I could help make your day,” Annabelle said. “Just like the auditions, we’ll be following up with an e-mail containing all the important information.”
“Thank you! Have a great day!” I knew I would.
“Thanks, go celebrate!” she said.
I closed my eyes and pushed my hands up to the ceiling as if I was reaching for the sky beyond. My body couldn’t contain all of my excitement.
I need to tell everyone!
I called up my favorite contacts without paying much attention.
“Leah?” The voice was disgruntled and surprised.
“I got the role! I’ll be in the play!”
“Congratulations,” Chris said. “I thought we weren’t talking anymore.”
I was so caught up in the excitement that I hadn’t even remembered I was supposed to be keeping him
at arm’s length.
“Well, I thought you should know,” I sputtered. “So you don’t hear from someone else.”
“You’re an odd one. Has anyone ever told you that?”
Repeatedly. Steph complained about it all the time while we grew up.
“I gotta go, have to tell Dad,” I said.
“You haven’t even told him yet?”
Crap. Shouldn’t have told him that.
“It was busy the first time I called. Bye.”
Now why the hell did I call Chris first, of all people?
18
~ Chris ~
No, that’s not right. The build’s a little too long on this one, people will tire of it.
It didn’t sound right just putting the drop there, either.
I need to piece it together a little better. There has to be something that will fill this space and ramp up the energy.
My stomach rumbled, but I ignored it. Hunger was an old friend, and it no longer fazed me. When I was in the groove, I didn’t stop for anything.
Maybe another complementary bass line.
I played with the different sounds I’d created, slotting them in and changing frequencies. Nothing fit what I was looking for.
Gah. I’ll look at it later.
The latest track I worked on wasn’t cooperating. It wasn’t bad, by any stretch, but I couldn’t afford to just be not bad. I had to be great. Nothing else would get me noticed.
Four hours of the day had drained away since I’d gotten home from work and started up the laptop to work on the music. Not for the first time, I wished I could make my living this way.
And not have to go into that dark hole of a building and waste eight hours every day for the rest of my life.
Maybe if I only saw the crew for a few hours a week then they wouldn’t piss me off so much. They’d noticed how often I’d been skipping out on them, and they didn’t like it.
Derek’s words twisted in my mind, providing a dark contrast to the music playing in my ears.
Don’t you dare forget who your friends are. We’ve been through hell and back together. We stick together, and we live together, and we die together. If you aren’t our friend, then you’re our enemy, and you don’t want to be our enemy.
For a man who lived in a sea of gray, Derek had a black and white view of the world.
My phone rang, the latest completed track competing with the unfinished one. I muted the laptop before I answered.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, sweetie. How are you?”
I smiled. Somehow, although everyone else saw the tattoos and the rough crowd and the dead-end job, I would always be her sweetie.
“I’m fine, Mom. As much as I ever am. How are you? I hope this marriage is already going better than the last one.”
“Now, Christian, don’t go talking about your father that way. He blessed me with you boys, so I don’t regret him in the slightest.”
I rolled my eyes. We both knew how useless dad had been, especially toward the end when he’d given up on everything. I never wanted to become like that, but part of me wondered if I hadn’t already taken the first few steps down that dark and twisted road.
“Sure. Whatever. How’s Jerry?”
“Jerry’s just perfect,” she sighed. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to be with a man like that.”
“So you like him better than Dad.” I couldn’t resist the poke.
“Christian! Neither man is better than the other, they’re just… different.” I wished I could have seen the look on her face as she tried to be polite to Dad’s memory.
“Different by how much better Jerry is,” I muttered under my breath. “And to what do I owe your call?”
She clucked. “Does a mother need an excuse to call her oldest son and see how he’s doing?”
“I suppose not,” I said, still wary. “But that doesn’t mean you have nothing else to say.”
“I wanted to make sure you and Leah were getting along okay, there in the city. I worry about you, Christian. I’m glad you have someone else there for support.”
“That’s touching, Mom,” I said. “I’ve been living here for almost ten years now, you know. With no problems. And my own set of friends. I’m not exactly struggling for a lifeline.”
Except that I need a change, and Leah is my best shot for making that change. And I might have driven her away.
“Yes, well, I wanted you to know that it makes me happy to think of you two spending time together. You were so cute when you talked with her at the wedding.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on, Christian. She’s a very attractive young woman, and you two are adults. I’m just saying it wouldn’t be the worst thing if…”
“Mom!” I sputtered. How did this even come up? “Are you seriously trying to play matchmaker between your son and your stepdaughter?”
I stared into my phone and pinched myself, making sure I was awake.
“Well, it sounds kind of wrong when you put it that way, doesn’t it? It was just a thought, dear. I won’t speak of it again.”
I crossed the room and flung myself onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. I couldn’t tell her she wasn’t far off the mark. Could I?
“Leah is pretty cool,” I admitted. “She’s passionate about her acting. I’ve never met anyone who was that committed to anything. You hear she got a role in a play?”
“She got it? Jerry mentioned she had an audition and that’s why she spent so little time with us at the wedding. I’m glad all the practice paid off for her.”
“Isn’t your one friend an assistant for some Hollywood director?” I asked.
“Deborah? Oh, hardly. She might get coffee for some agent or other. We don’t talk about work that much. Besides, I haven’t seen her in a couple months. Although maybe I should mention the play to her,” Mom mused. “She might give Leah some tips.”
There was a comfortable silence on the phone, and I looked across the room at my desk.
The visualizations still ran on my laptop screen; I’d muted the volume but my music still played. I could pick out the melody just from the way the lines pulsed. It was my favorite work so far, a remix of Taylor Swift’s Blank Space. The interplay between the pop star’s voice and the synthesized sounds I’d agonized over for weeks was the best thing I’d ever created.
It would mean nothing if I never got anyone to listen to it.
“Do you think I’m a lost cause?” I asked. “It hit home when I spoke with Jerry at your wedding. I’ve been at the same job for almost ten years, and I’ve made nothing more of myself than that.”
“You could have taken the job he offered you,” she said. “He went out of his way on that, made all sorts of promises to his boss and vouched for your work ethic and how quickly you’d be able to pick up the skills needed. It would be a fresh start, away from those… friends of yours.”
She’d never approved of the crew. When I was younger and the drinking and drugs and danger has seemed so much cooler, her disapproval had just pushed me even further out toward the edge. After all, I’d given up a chance to go to college so I could support the family, what I did with my free time was my business.
My pride didn’t allow me to acknowledge the truth—I wanted to distance myself from the crew. If I had any hope of moving on and improving my life, it would have to happen.
“I can’t do that, Mom. How could I get anyone important to listen to my music if I’m out in the country? I need to be in the city.”
I didn’t voice the second reason my being rebelled at the thought of moving away. Leah was in the city, and going away mean giving up. I couldn’t give up on her.
“I can’t pretend to understand that… noise… you call your music,” she said. That had been a whole other battle through the years. “But you can’t keep counting on it as if money will start magically raining from the sky. Have you made a single cent off it yet?”
I s
ighed. “No. I’ve had no luck with that.”
Melancholy overcame me. Talking to Mom should have made me feel better about myself, but it didn’t. Music wasn’t the path to success, and without it there was no escaping my reality. Leah didn’t deserve someone who had such a hopeless future.
“We make our own luck, Christian. Remember that. I love you sweetie, but I have to run. Think about Jerry’s offer.”
19
~ Leah ~
“Hey, Leah, there you are.” David smiled as he walked up to my table, oversized coffee mug in hand. “Glad you asked me to come grab a cup. That’s it right there?”
I had a massive stack of paper in front of me. It was intimidating.
I nodded. “I’ve already skimmed through it once, and I don’t know how I’ll do this, David. Thanks for dropping by.”
The first meeting at the Troubadour Company was just to sign a couple forms and pick up materials, including the script for the play. It had CONFIDENTIAL stamped across it in big, red letters. Once I received it I couldn’t resist ducking into the first café I came across and picking my way through.
I’d told David, and since he was in the area, he offered to come by and take a look.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he said. “I’ve seen you perform complex stuff in class before. This won’t be any different.” He pinched the stack of papers between his thumb and index finger. “Okay, it might be longer than anything you’ve had to memorize before. But I know you, Leah. You’ll pull everything together and rehearse the hell out of it and shine like the star you are.”
He was right. It didn’t make the butterflies settle down in my stomach. They’d been beating their wings against the insides of my ribs ever since I’d started to read.
“It’s not just the length. It’s deep, David. I think it’s the most impressive script I’ve ever read. The play could take off.” I took a deep breath. “I know I said this could be the start of a great professional career, but I didn’t think this play by itself could do it alone. It should be just a minor step in my career. But this… I’m scared. I don’t want to mess this up.”
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