Summer in the City

by Fracaswell Hyman

  Even though the show kept getting better and better with TJ as Romeo, the audiences got smaller and smaller. When we arrived at the theater for the last performance of our first week, a Closing Notice was posted on the call board—effective immediately after the matinee.

  It looked like I was going home a week earlier than planned. Even though my parents’ visit had reawakened my homesickness, now I didn’t want to leave. The entire company, onstage and backstage, had grown so close. All the drama with Gabriel Faust had bonded us and we wanted to stick it out. But Bob and Larry told us it just wasn’t financially possible. Without Gabriel, the backers refused to put in the money that could tide us over through the next week.

  People started throwing out ideas, offering to cut our pay or take no pay at all, anything to save the show. But it was no use. We were closing—no ifs, ands, or buttocks.

  Acorn called Aunt Zendaya with the news, so she could meet us at the theater after the matinee. Then we played and sang our hearts out for the twenty people in the audience, and when all twenty of them were standing, cheering, and stomping their feet during the curtain call, we felt vindicated. We came, we saw, we slayed!

  That evening, while I was packing my suitcase and Acorn and Aunt Z were in the kitchen preparing something that smelled so good, it was making my mouth water, my face2face ringtone went off.

  It was Izzy. I picked up.

  “Mango . . .” she started.

  “Izzy . . .”

  “I’m sorry the show is closing.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Theater blogs, of course. I wanted to call you to make sure you weren’t feeling too bad . . . and to apologize. I’m so sorry about the way I acted. I should have come to New York to see the show. I wanted to . . . but I was so jealous! Of you and of Carmella being with Hector Osario. I was so jealous, my eyes were crossed. It’s taken me a week of having arguments with you and myself in my mind. I’m sorry. I read your reviews and everyone loves you. So do I.”

  “Thanks, Iz. I’m sorry, too! Maybe my head was getting too big. I mean, I should have found time to at least let you know I was too busy to talk. A bestie deserves that much consideration. Especially since I knew you were having a rough time. I’m going to be more considerate, I swear.”

  “I felt horrible, too. But I hope we can put it behind us so we can both feel better?”

  “Talking to you is making me feel better already. I missed you, girl. And I’m so glad we’re making up, because guess what?”

  “What?”

  “I’ll be home tomorrow!”

  “Yes! You have to spend the night at my house. Girrrrrl, I have so much to tell you!”

  “What-what? Tell me now.”

  “No way!”

  “Please! My impatience runneth over!”

  “Okay, so . . . you know about Hector Osario and Carmella?”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “Well, my double-crossing, bodysnatching cousin took me with her to a dinner at Hector’s house, and I met his cousin, Raymond Rivera. OMGZ! He’s ten times cuter than Hector and he plays guitar!”

  “Get out!”

  “Get in! And guess what?”

  “Don’t make me guess, I’m dying!”

  “He’s writing a song for me! He played the melody for me over the phone last night.”

  “And . . .?”

  “Tune in tomorrow. If you wanna know the juicy details, you’d better get your butt over here as soon as your flight lands.”

  “Okay, but I’ve got to go home and squeeze my baby brother first. Then I’m on my way. Besides, girl, you’re not the only one with juice to spill.”

  “I’m so sure! I can’t wait to hear all about you and Gabriel Faust and Destiny Manaconda—”

  “And TJ.”

  “What?”

  “Mm-hmm!”

  “OMGZ, this is epic!”

  We went on and on talking and laughing for hours. We only stopped for about a half hour while I had dinner. Aunt Z and Acorn outdid themselves with their vegan version of a Vietnamese vermicelli dish called bún. It was amazing! Just before I went to bed, as I was plugging in my phone, I realized I had a voicemail from a number I didn’t recognize. Who left voicemails nowadays? Texting was so much easier. I bent down to where my phone was plugged in and listened to the message.

  “Hi Mango, it’s Destiny . . . Manaconda? Listen, I told my manager about you and he saw the matinee today and wants to meet you. Do you think you can stick around for a few days? You have my number now, so let me know what to tell him.”

  I sat stone-still on the floor for a few minutes, just holding my phone. What did this mean? Did I really want to stick around to meet a manager that might want me to weigh in weekly and swear off Hot Cheetos?

  My phone buzzed. It was a text from TJ.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Here We Go Again?

  Mom and Dada picked me up from the airport. When we got back to our apartment, I squeezed and hugged my little brother, quickly unpacked, and ran to Izzy’s house to spend the night. We had so much fun, we decided to make it a once-a-week date. It was the perfect welcome home, and with school starting soon, I was looking forward to getting back into a routine.

  But that was before I realized that once again, things were going to change . . .

  Maxwell Paige, Destiny Manaconda’s manager, had contacted Mom and Dada, saying it was urgent he meet us. He flew out the next day and took us to lunch along with TJ and his mother. We went to The Grainery, a super fancy macrobiotic restaurant. Actually, I had been hoping for a cheeseburger and fries, but to be honest, the food was DOPE!

  Mr. Paige was really nice. In fact, he was actually pretty cool. He was tall and slim and wore a pinstripe suit that was obviously tailor-made. He looked like Jay-Z, but a little older and with a shaved head. It didn’t take long for him to cut to the chase.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Fuller, Ms. Gatt, Mango, TJ— I caught the final performance of Yo, Romeo! Mango and TJ, you’re very talented, and I’d like to manage both of you. You know that I work with Destiny Manaconda, and from my website and the other info I emailed, you’ll see I only work with the very best. That’s you two.”

  Dada spoke up. “We did check out your website and we were very impressed, but Mango has to decide for herself.” Everyone turned to me. “What do you think?”

  I looked at Mr. Paige and said, “Hot Cheetos.”

  He said, “I beg your pardon?”

  “Hot Cheetos. I won’t give them up. Destiny Manaconda says she can’t eat them and that you make her weigh in every week.”

  Mr. Paige chuckled. “You won’t have to give up your snack. Destiny is under contract as a spokeswoman and model for the Dalvin Couture Collection. It is they who insist she weigh in each week to make sure she stays camera ready. I’ll admit it is tough for her, but her healthy bank account and the latest designer fashions make it all worthwhile.”

  “Oh. Well . . . I need some time to think about it.”

  “Yeah, me too,” TJ added.

  “Unfortunately, we don’t have a lot of time. You see, the reason I flew here to meet you is because Destiny’s been cast in a new series. I’m not allowed to give many details at this point, but it’s about a teen garage band that hits it big. You two would be perfect as her bandmates, and Destiny wants you in the show. I think you’re both terrific, and I’m positive the network will go wild for you.” He paused to take a sip of water. “Here’s the thing, we would need you on the West Coast in two days for a screen test. We start shooting the pilot next week. If you’re interested, I’ll have to know before we leave the restaurant.”

  My stomach dropped. I looked at my parents. Mom’s mouth was agape. Dada was grinning from ear to ear. How on earth was I going to figure this out before the end of lunch? My head was spinning!

  TJ cleared his throat. “Can Mango and I talk in private for a couple of minutes?”

  We excused ourselves from the table and stepped o
utside. “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I don’t know . . .” I said. “This is amazing, but we just got back, and school starts in two weeks. I like being at home with my friends, you know?”

  “Can I be honest?”

  “No, lie to me. Dishonesty is the best policy!”

  “Okay, okay,” TJ laughed. “Listen, I told you my mother is getting married and all. Anyway, I’ve been kind of feeling like a third wheel around my house with all the wedding stuff. Getting back a week early threw a wrench in my mother’s plans.”

  “Oh.”

  “And . . . my dad lives out in L.A. I hardly ever get to see him. This would give us a chance to hang, and who knows what could happen from there?”

  “So, you want to go?”

  “Not without you.”

  Everything was happening so fast. I was feeling like a yo-yo again, spinning up and down and all around. I had just gotten home, back to my family and friends and all the little comforts I had missed when I was in New York. Did I really want to go to a strange place with strange people all over again, so soon? Then I remembered what Acorn had said when he had escorted me back to Aunt Zendaya’s place the first time: “Embrace the fact that things are going to be uncomfortable for a while, but one day soon, things will start falling into place and you’ll start to fit in . . . until the next time you step out of your comfort zone.”

  He was right. At first, being in the show in New York was uncomfortable. Then things got better, and I got so comfortable that I didn’t want to leave. Maybe this was that next time he was talking about.

  I’d never been in a TV show before. It was probably a lot different from working on a play. What would it be like in Hollywood, being in a studio with cameras? I started getting excited imagining being on screens all over the country, and maybe the world! I would be bananas to pass on a new experience like this.

  I looked at TJ, and he looked at me. The sparkle in my eyes ignited a spark in his. I grabbed his hand, and we walked back into the restaurant. We had decided. Hollywood, here we come!

  THE END