Summer in the City

by Fracaswell Hyman

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  A Certain Quality

  My first stop, when I got to the theater, was the green room. I wanted TJ and all my friends to see the new and improved me. When I walked in, they were stretching and chatting. I had to clear my throat to get their attention. The expressions on their faces were more startled than amazed. They all kind of stared at me. TJ said, “Mango? Is that you?”

  Using the deeper, more resonant voice I’d been coached to use, I said, “Of course it’s me, silly.”

  “What happened?” Claxton asked.

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  Chanté said, “You look so different.”

  “You even sound different,” Chelsea added.

  Claxton said, “Did you get a makeover?”

  Then LaRon said, “More like a make-older. Girl, you look like you’re thirty years old!”

  I tried to smile at this remark, but the confidence I felt when I arrived was beginning to crumble already. Did I look older instead of better? Had my master plan makeover gone too far?

  TJ said, “Hey y’all, chill. Mango is just trying to . . . uh . . . She’s trying to . . .” He looked at me. “What are you trying to do, Mango?”

  My chest felt tight, like I was encased in concrete. I looked around at the faces of my closest friends in the show and felt ridiculous. But I couldn’t let them know that. I took a deep breath and repeated what Hailey Joanne had told me: “If you want to be a star, you have to look and act like a star.”

  Then Larry came into the room and looked around. “Oh, I thought I heard Mango in here,” he said, turning to leave.

  “I’m Mango.”

  Larry did a double take and came up close to me. He was about to say something more, but I could tell he stopped himself then said, “Um . . . uh . . . Bob and Roz want to go over the scene with you and your mother, the queen. He’s added some new dialogue to make it funnier. Uh . . . yeah.”

  I followed him onto the stage. The stage lights were on, and it was very warm. Bob had the same double take reaction as Larry when I came onstage. “Uh . . . Mango, is that you under there?”

  “Yes, of course it’s me!” I was getting a little frustrated with everyone treating me like I was from Mars.

  Then Roz came onstage, waving some script pages. “Bobby, Bobby my love. This new material is fantastic, hysterical, and fits my character to a T. Where’s Mango? Let’s run it a few times.”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m right here.”

  Roz squinted at me frowning, then said, “I can’t play her mother! I’d have to be in my forties for someone to believe I had a child this old!”

  “Excuse me, Roz,” Bob said, “but you are in your forties.”

  “Shut up! I don’t look it, do I?”

  “Well, no, but . . .”

  Roz looked me up and down and leaned in close. “Go wash your face, little girl. You will not age me up in this show.”

  “Roz . . .” Bob pleaded.

  “No! Uh-uh! I didn’t sign up for this.” She tossed the new script pages onto the floor and stormed offstage.

  Bob sighed. “Mango, listen—”

  “No. That’s not fair!” I realized most of the cast was in the wings, watching me. So, I thought, if Roz could have a hissy fit and storm offstage, so could I!

  I held my head high as I headed for the dressing room. Before I reached the stairs, I bumped into Destiny Manaconda coming out of Gabriel Faust’s dressing room. I said, “Excuse me.”

  She looked at me for a moment as if she didn’t recognize me. “Mango?”

  “Yes?”

  “Uh . . . nothing.”

  I could feel her watching me as I turned and ran up to the third floor as fast as I could, which wasn’t that fast at all in heels.

  In my dressing room, I looked at myself in the mirror. I was still Mango, wasn’t I? But the real Mango, the basic Mango was hidden beneath layers and layers of makeup. I felt like crying, but I stopped myself. I’d spent the whole night trying to sleep on my back like a corpse so I wouldn’t ruin my face. Tears would make everything smear, and I wouldn’t be able to fix it.

  There was a knock at the door, but before I could say anything, it opened and Destiny Manaconda walked in. She looked around the room, which was pretty messy because the Yo, Shady-O crew cared a lot more about having fun than being neat. “I haven’t been up here before,” she said. “Three flights in six-inch heels is not easy.”

  I nodded, not sure what to say. This was the first time she had spoken to me since that awful day in the restaurant when she ordered me away from my table. She crossed the room and sat in a chair next to me.

  “Why didn’t you take the other star dressing room on the first floor? There are two, you know.”

  “I wanted to be with my friends.”

  “Oh. I guess I understand that. You and TJ are from the same town and go to school together, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the others?”

  “I met them here. We like hanging with each other, ’cause we’re all around the same age.”

  “So am I. I’m around the same age as all of you.”

  It took me a moment, but I realized she was right. She was only three years older than me, but she seemed like an adult, with the way she looked and carried herself. “Yeah, I guess I just think of you as older.”

  “Price of fame.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In this business, you have to grow up fast. You’re around adults all the time. You kind of forget how to just have fun, you know? When I’m here and I see you and your friends goofing around and giggling and whatnot, I get so jealous.”

  I gagged. “Jealous of us? What? No way!”

  “Seriously!”

  “For real? But you and Gabriel Faust, you guys always keep to yourselves.”

  “That’s because it’s hard to break out of the bubble after you’ve been living in one for so long. Real talk, Faustie and I are just friends. The blogs and magazines make so much more of it than what is really going on. We’re guilty of making it look like we’re a couple, too. Keeps our names in the press, helps sell records. All that breaking up and making up nonsense is good for business.”

  “But that fight you had at the restaurant?”

  “Staged.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep. A lot of major bloggers hang out there. The whole thing was online before we walked out.”

  I was stunned. It all had seemed so real! I was starting to feel some kind of way, because I was ghosted and put in the middle of a fake drama just so they’d be mentioned in gossip blogs. “So . . . Gabriel Faust is not your boyfriend?”

  “Who has time for a boyfriend? When we’re in the same city, we hang around each other a lot because nobody else our age understands what we go through.” Something on my dressing table caught her eye. “Are those your Hot Cheetos?” she asked.

  “Yeah. You want some?” I handed her the bag.

  “Just one.” She reached her long nails into the bag, took out a single Cheeto, then placed the bag back on the table.

  “How can you eat just one?”

  “Listen, if I let myself, I could eat a whole wagonful, but I have to watch my diet. I just look at these things and gain twenty pounds. So I keep my distance, or my manager and agent will throw a fit. I’m telling you, my mouth waters watching you and your friends eating pizza and drinking slushies. My manager makes me weigh in once a week. I get fined if I gain an ounce.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “It’s what I signed up for. Can’t complain now. And that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Why?”

  “Listen, you look good with this whole transformation you did or whatever, but you need to ask yourself, is this really what you want? Because if you fall into the glam trap, it’s real hard to get out. That’s what happened to me. If I had it to do all over again, I’d take out all of this weave, scrub my face, and just b
e myself. But my people tell me I have an image to protect, so I can’t even leave my house without having my makeup and hair done. It takes hours every day before I can present myself to the world. Is that what you really want?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  She stood. “Well, think about it. I thought you were fine just the way you were.”

  “Yeah, but I want to be perfect, like you.”

  “Perfect? What makes you think I’m perfect?”

  “Well, you’re successful. You’ve had TV shows, hit records, modeling . . . that all seems pretty perfect to me.”

  “That’s so funny. I’d give anything if I could spend a week in your shoes. Being able to relax, eat what I want, go where I want without security guards, not be recognized . . . I could just be myself again. That would be a perfect week.” She sighed and walked toward the door. “You know, Mango, you have a certain quality that no one else has. Trust it, girl.” She waved and left.

  A certain quality . . . That’s what Bob had said the night he convinced my parents to let me go to New York. But what was it? I didn’t know. I couldn’t figure it out, but maybe that’s why I needed to just trust it. I had come this far by being plain old T-shirt, jeans, and Afro puff Mango. Maybe that was enough. Maybe being the best Mango I could be was enough.

  I looked at myself in the mirror again, trying to find the regular me underneath all this makeup and hair. It would take a lot of work to look like this every day. Plus, I’d be acting, making believe that I was somebody different from the real me.

  Acorn’s voice sounded over the intercom. “Half hour to run-through. Half hour!”

  Okay . . . so I had thirty minutes to get back to basic—back to me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  A Magic Moment

  The final dress rehearsal was in the evening, and it went great. Bob and Larry had let us invite friends and family so we’d get a true feeling of how the show would go over with an audience. And I was feeling good, too. I was back to my real self, without the tons of fake hair and layers of foundation and contour that changed the shape of my face. Even though I had to wear makeup in the show, it was simpler, more natural, and didn’t hide who I really was.

  The only awk-weird thing was the kiss. I had put it off all through rehearsals, and now it was time to grit my teeth and kiss the creep. Gabriel and I sang “Duet Forever” (in the lower key, of course), and when we got to the end, things seemed to move in slow motion. We looked into each other’s eyes, tilted our heads, and Gabriel went in for the kiss. He took me in his arms, turned my back to the audience, and . . . his lips landed on my chin, directly under my lips. It felt so strange, especially when the audience burst into applause and cheers as though they believed we were really kissing.

  The lights went down and we left the stage. “What was that?” I whispered.

  “Stage kiss,” he said. “I can’t go around kissing everyone who wants to kiss me.”

  Oh really? Yeah, I did practice kissing his poster on the inside door of my closet (a poster I would remove as soon as I got home), and I had thought I wanted to kiss him, but that was before I got to know him. All of the kissing a creep anxiety that had built up in me completely vanished. We could stage kiss until the end of the run. I was more than perfectly fine with that.

  There were a few hiccups during the run through. Nothing serious—a missing prop, a dropped cue. Other than that, the show went well. At the curtain call, Hailey Joanne was on her feet cheering.

  Backstage, Hailey Joanne invited the entire Yo, Shady-O crew to come to the Saint Voltaire with us and hang out. She promised that Mr. Versey would drive them all home before it got too late. Everyone immediately whipped out their phones to get permission from their parents or guardians. It wasn’t every day you got invited to the fanciest hotel in New York City!

  Hailey Joanne was about to call Mr. Butler the butler to ask him to order lots of pizza and snacks for the gang when I had a great idea. “There’s this Jamaican bakery in Brooklyn that makes the best food ever! It’s owned by my friend, Miss Clover. Maybe you can let her cater the party instead?” Hailey Joanne agreed and relayed the information to Mr. Butler. My mouth watered, thinking of all the great Jamaican food I would eat.

  On our way out, we passed the star dressing rooms. Destiny Manaconda was standing by the door, waiting for Gabriel Faust. I walked by, then stopped and walked back to her. I said, “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “Um, thanks for your advice earlier.”

  “You’re welcome. You were terrific tonight.”

  My favorite TV star just said I was terrific! I didn’t know how to take it or what to say, so I just said, “Thanks.” I started to walk away again, but then I turned back. “Hey, a bunch of us are going to the Saint Voltaire to hang out with my friend, Hailey Joanne, in her penthouse. Do you and Gabriel want to come?”

  “That sounds fun, but he’s gonna be recording songs for his next album tonight.”

  “What about you?”

  She shrugged. “I usually just hang out with him while he records.”

  “Well, if you feel like coming, we’ll be in the penthouse. The one that looks like a castle.”

  “Okay. We’ll see . . .”

  I hurried to join Hailey Joanne, TJ, LaRon, Claxton, Chelsea, and Chanté. At the stage door, Bob and Larry warned us not to stay up too late. “Make sure you get your rest! We’re opening tomorrow night, and you all need to be in tip-top shape.” Mr. Versey assured him that we’d all be nestled in our beds before midnight.

  We crammed ourselves into the Pinkeys’ SUV. Some of us had to sit in the front and some in the back to fit, and somehow I wound up on TJ’s lap. We were all so amped up about the show, talking and laughing nonstop about what went right and what went wrong and how we worked so hard not to crack each other up onstage.

  My friends from the show were in awe when we arrived at the penthouse. Hailey Joanne’s lifestyle tended to have that effect. Even though I’d already seen the place, I was a little stunned, too—there was a DJ!

  I hugged Hailey Joanne and thanked her for being so awesome. “This is nothing,” she said. “We’ve got an even bigger surprise for your opening night.”

  “What is it? What kind of surprise?”

  “Would it be a surprise if I told you?”

  “But I want to know now! Tell me, please!”

  “Mother would kill me if I did, so forget it.” She twirled away from me and grabbed Claxton to dance. I realized she had made a point to sit next to him on the ride over. And now, with the way she was looking at him and touching his arms as they danced, it seemed as though her French crush was a thing of the past.

  TJ caught my eye from where he was standing by the DJ booth and started walking toward me, nodding his head and doing some goofy dance moves. I knew he was pretending, because when he was onstage with his band, he moved great. I giggled, and we danced together for so long, I lost track of time. We took a break when the food arrived, though—we were starving! It seemed Mr. Butler had ordered everything on Miss Clover’s menu. Everyone loaded up their plates with beef patties, jerk chicken, rice and peas, and carrot cake.

  TJ and I went out onto the enormous veranda, carrying our plates piled high with food. New York City looked amazing from up here, sparkling all the way out to the horizon. TJ had kind of a weird smile on his face. He said, “Are you glad you came here this summer?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Are you glad you stayed?”

  “Yeah.” We chewed in silence for a while. I could feel him looking at me, which was awkward, because people really don’t look cute biting into a chicken wing.

  “What?” I finally said.

  “What, what?”

  “You keep looking me.”

  “So?”

  “So, I’m eating. It’s weird to chew when you’re watching me.”

  He cleared his throat a couple of times and said, “I think you know that I like you. I’ve always liked you. You
’re the real reason I stuck around New York. I gave you major attitude that day you went out to lunch with Gabriel Faust because I was jealous. I was afraid you liked him more than me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, and I don’t like him. Not like that.”

  “But what about me? Do you like me . . . like that?”

  My heart was pounding in my chest. I knew I had to be honest—with TJ, and with myself. I took a deep breath. “Yes. I like you . . . like that.”

  TJ’s face lit up with his dazzling smile. I couldn’t look away from his kiwi green eyes. We moved toward each other, slowly, shy, and then he leaned in and we kissed. We had kissed many times before, when we played Romeo and Juliet in our school production, but this was different. We weren’t pretending to be characters. We were just being ourselves. We weren’t acting like we like-liked each other. We actually really did. And this time, for the first time, we didn’t have an audience. We were alone. At least, that’s what I thought until . . .

  “Ahem!”

  We leapt apart and turned to see Mr. Versey standing at the entrance to the veranda. “Excuse me, TJ, but it’s time for me to escort you back to where you’re staying.” He smiled with a twinkle in his eye and went back inside.

  TJ and I looked at each other and started to laugh. He said, “This just might be the happiest day of my life.”

  “Mine, too.”

  After TJ left, I stayed on the veranda, barely noticing the city glittering below like a zillion diamonds. Was TJ my boyfriend now? Did I want a boyfriend? Was I ready for a boyfriend? How would being boyfriend and girlfriend change our friendship?

  Suddenly, it seemed like things were happening way too fast. But with the show opening tomorrow, I didn’t have time to figure it all out now. I needed to focus—and get a good night’s sleep for my big Off-Broadway debut.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Temper, Temper . . .

  Of course, I didn’t sleep a wink. I spent the entire night tossing and turning as relentless thoughts crowded my head. It was like my mind was an elevator, stopping at every floor and taking on more passengers with nobody getting off, and each passenger was another worry. What if the show was a flop? What about TJ? What if I was a flop and the critics blasted me? Were we boyfriend and girlfriend now? What if the show was a hit? Was I old enough to have a boyfriend? What if I was a hit and became a star? Did I even want a boyfriend? Would I wish for my regular life back, like Destiny Manaconda? Would we have to hold hands everywhere we’d go? Would I have to change? Would I be happy? Would we go on dates? Would I have to give up Hot Cheetos and weigh in every week? What did it all mean? What did I really want?