“I’m here, New York,” I said softly. “I made it.”
Chapter Two
Sweat dripped off my forehead and into my eyes as my feet pounded on the treadmill, pushing through the last three minutes of my workout.
I watched the people on the street below, rock music blaring into my ears. Everything was so perfect, I couldn’t get over it. I hadn’t even felt this much at home at home. The city was in me and I was in it, finally. The last week had been one of the happiest in my life. When I walked down the street my heart practically sang out to everyone, wishing them a good day as my fellow New York dwellers.
I’d started work at Olive Garden two days after I arrived. My savings had only been partially used up in getting here, but I wasn’t so stupid as to think I’d land the first show I auditioned for. I mean, I dreamed about that happening of course, but the logical side of me had insisted on a job. It would make getting to casting calls a little harder, but I’d deal. Nothing was going to stop me now that I was here.
I turned the machine off and stepped away, grabbing a towel to wipe up with. A quick look at my phone sent me hurrying on my way, only two hours left for me to get ready and catch the subway before my shift started.
I grabbed my bag and left the room, taking the stairs down one floor and exiting the building. I kind of loved how everything was built on top of itself. It left a lot to the imagination. On one floor there could be a fancy restaurant and on the next there could be a small studio theatre. Everything was interchangeable, always moving forward to bigger and better things.
I traveled the two blocks to my apartment easily, the path already familiar from my daily trips to the gym. As I came up to the steps, I stopped and grabbed my mail, squealing with excitement when I saw the list of weekly auditions in the newspaper I’d signed up for.
Taking even more stairs inside, going up four floors before stumbling down the hall, my nose stuck in the list, I smiled happily to myself again. Finally, I turned the key in my door and was home, dropping my bag on the ground. Checking the time again, I groaned and put the magazine down on the desk, heading for the bathroom on the left.
Even though it was small, I loved where I lived. It was even more of the real New York experience. The bathroom was big enough to turn around in, the tub shoved up along one wall with the toilet so close I could almost shower and use it at the same time. On the opposite wall was a sink with a mirror. Small and simple.
The rest of the loft was mostly the same, separated into the bedroom and a much larger living area. A white couch sat in front of a window with a view of the building three feet away. I usually kept the curtains closed, because the man across the way was always sitting in his room naked. The kitchen was nestled into the corner opposite the door, a small counter separating it from the rest. Everything had wood floors and there was a nice shag carpet in the middle of the living room, but that was it. In my eyes, it was perfect.
The “wall” separating my room from everything else was really just a piece of fabric that hung down, brushing the floor. There were bookshelves and a dresser that sat up against the bricks on the left, the queen bed’s headboard resting against the perpendicular “wall,” a few feet away from the opening that led to the living room. For a door, the drape was pulled back and had a button it hooked on to. If I ever wanted to close the door, all I had to do was release the fabric from the button.
My things had settled easily into the space, immediately making me fall in love with it even more. Everything was so perfect, I felt like I would wake up at any moment and discover it’d all been in my head.
A quick shower followed my return home, the grime I’d accumulated during my workout washing easily down the drain. After that, I slapped some makeup on, tied my hair back in a bun, slipped into my work clothes, and was out the door on the way to the subway.
My commute to work was always interesting. I liked to people watch, wondering where everyone was going. Sometimes it was really easy to tell because of uniforms. Others were a complete mystery to me, though. I liked to speculate what had brought them here as well. What were their hopes and dreams they wished would come true here?
In no time at all, I was off the train and in my favorite place on Earth—Times Square. I’d joked I was already working on Broadway, the restaurant being right on the corner.
I smiled at all of the sights and sounds around me, feeling in heaven before I walked through the doors and into the lunch rush.
“Hey, Mara,” Lizzy, my previous trainer, said with a smile from the hostess stand. “You’re with me, again, today.”
“All right, sounds great,” I grinned back. “Let me go clock in.”
A few minutes later, my things safely tucked away in a locker, I joined her at the front, ready to help.
“Okay. We aren’t backed up too bad, yet,” she said, pointing out the medium sized group of people waiting next to the stairs to the upper level. “It’s only about a twenty minute wait.”
“Sounds good,” I said, straightening the stack of buzzers waiting to be handed out.
Someone spoke to her through the headset she wore and Lizzy activated a buzzer that was already handed out. An older couple came to the stand and turned it in, smiles on their faces.
“Follow this hallway down to the elevator and go up to floor three,” I said. “Your server is waiting for you at another stand up there.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, taking her husband’s arm.
Like everything else in the city, the restaurant was built on top of itself, three stories of Italian restaurant sitting on the corner of the busiest intersection in the world. When customers walked through the revolving doors, they were greeted by the two of us at the hostess stand, invited to wait at the bar upstairs on the second floor, or on the stairs leading to it, and then later seated in the actual restaurant part upstairs. When they left, they would take the escalator that spanned all three floors in the middle of the building and exit back out the circular door.
I’d spent the first few days training for the upstairs welcome stand, but now I was on front door duty. I imagined that, eventually, I would be scheduled as a waitress as well. Pickiness wasn’t my style; I’d do whatever they needed me to.
The rest of my day went pretty much the same, getting frantic around dinner and after all the shows let out. Finally, we were closed down and I could breathe again, ready to go home.
“So, what are you going to do with your weekend off?” Lizzy asked as I pulled my stuff out of the locker next to hers.
“I haven’t been able to see the city, yet,” I laughed. “I’d like to see a show as well.”
“Do you have one picked out, already?”
“All of them,” I laughed.
“Good luck with that,” she laughed. “I’d see Wicked or The Phantom of the Opera first if it were me.”
“I saw Wicked when the tour came through my state,” I said. “It was fantastic! I’ve never seen Phantom, except for the movie, but I love the music.”
“Well, there’s nothing like seeing the Broadway version, no matter what show it is.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I laughed. “Thank you.”
“You should hit up all the tourist spots, too. They have lots of visitors because they’re awesome.”
“I will,” I said with a nod. “There’s a few things you have to see if you’re going to be in New York.”
“Exactly!” She laughed.
“What about you? Any plans for the weekend?”
“Ugh, no. Before I knew you started here, I let my mom talk me into this catering thing. I’ll be upstate all weekend.”
“That’s too bad,” I frowned. “We’ve been so busy here, I was hoping we’d finally get the chance to visit and get to know each other. I’m excited to make friends and hang out.”
“I would love to do that,” she laughed. “When I get back, for sure.”
“Sounds great,” I said with a smile. “Thanks for your help
, today.”
“No problem,” she said with a wave. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
I flopped down on the bench as she left, my feet killing me, and sighed. Being here in the city still felt like a dream, especially when I went to invite people over. I had my own house! I’d never lived on my own before. It was strange to feel so grown up and independent, even though it was always what I’d always pictured myself doing.
Ignoring the protests of my aching muscles, I shoved to my feet, grabbing my bag and heading up the stairs, out of the basement locker room. Outside, the streets I loved sparkled under the bright lights, carrying residents and tourists alike to their respective destinations. There were still lots of people out and about, milling around after their evening activities. Darting between cars, I crossed the street and walked over to the red steps, taking a seat on the first one.
I would have been more than happy to spend my entire weekend right here, in the midst of all the great actors, actresses, and music in every building. My bones ached to join them, to share what I had to offer.
Soon, I thought.
After basking in the lights for a while longer, I finally got back to the subway and headed home. I planned to see everything I felt like over the next two days and knew I needed to be rested.
The next morning, I awoke with excitement humming through me. The Phantom of the Opera was my show of choice for the night, as Lizzy suggested. It couldn’t be the longest running show in Broadway history without being good. I was also looking forward to seeing the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, the World Trade Center Memorial, Rockefeller Center, Macy’s—pretty much everything there was to see in my free time. Today was especially reserved for the theatre district, though.
After getting ready for the day, my blue jeans and I hit the subway, heading for the theatre district. I got off at Carnegie Hall and spent a few minutes examining the outside of the building, smiling as I thought of all the performances the building had seen. Next, I stopped at Rockefeller Plaza and took their tour, eating up every minute.
Everywhere I went was flooded with people visiting during their summer break. Picture after picture was snapped on my phone, intentions to send them to my parents buzzing in my head.
Again, I was struck by how happy I felt. The crush of the buildings, the mass amounts of people shoving every which way, the sound of car horns and the train clacking across the track beneath the street, all of it was heaven. There were people who hated every single inch, but not me. The urban jungle was definitely where I wanted to be.
As lunch time rolled around, I decided to stop at a deli just outside the Square. The food was so good I took a photo of it as well, dying over my first slice of real New York cheesecake. I was so full before I got to the end of it that I had to throw two bites away. It felt like a sin to do such a thing. It was probably just as well, though, since I was trying to stay fit.
The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering through the stores, making my way to Macy’s. Hours passed as I browsed through item after item, reveling in the things that were discovered. As it came closer to time for the show, I went home and freshened up, changing into something a little nicer.
Thirty minutes before the doors opened, I found myself standing outside The Majestic Theatre, about to begin my first Broadway show experience. My heart hammered in my chest, not knowing what to expect. The outside wall was decorated with pictures from the show, making me even more excited for the experience.
People started to accumulate, waiting in the tiny lobby and outside the doors. Everything I could see was decorated fancily. Chandeliers hung from the ceilings, sparkling down on the red carpet.
Finally, the doors opened and we were ushered inside, being led to a staircase. There was a bar on the other side of the room and vendors selling show memorabilia. I took the regular program and headed up the stairs, my orchestra seat ticket in hand. Within moments, I was seated before the glorious stage, waiting as patiently as I could for the lights to dim.
The proscenium was dark, tiny bits of fog billowing out from behind the curtain and onto the open middle. The famous chandelier sat there, covered up as it had been at the beginning of the movie. The framing around the edges of the performance space had been covered as well. It didn’t leave me a whole lot to look at, so I turned instead to the theatre itself, admiring the gold trimming and ornate setting I’d come into.
After what felt like hours, a voice came over the speakers and gave the opening announcements, including the request to shut off phones. Lights dimmed and the actors took the stage, ready for the night.
My heart leapt in my chest as they began to speak, the show taking off smoothly. As the opening number crashed to a start, the chandelier shaking to life and rising above my head, I felt tears in my eyes. I wanted to do this so badly. I wanted to be backstage, waiting for my cue.
I became lost in the performance, swept away in its enchanting melodies. By the time intermission rolled around I found myself wishing it would never end. Everything else was forgotten as it all started up again fifteen minutes later, pulling me back into the show’s warm embrace.
The story was captivating, tying all in the building up in the dark and haunting notes, hurling them through each sudden twist and turn, mystifying them with the story of its angel, trapped in his own Hell.
As the last note rang out, the lights dimming and narrowing until they rested only on the Phantom’s mask, I found myself rising with the others in the crowd, clapping and cheering for a job well done.
The actors hurried on stage to bow, the main leads receiving the loudest of cheers as they swept low before us. They motioned to the pit and the light booth before waving as they exited.
And then it was over. An emptiness gnawed at my insides, like I’d lost something I loved more than anything in the world. Sadly, I left the theatre, wishing I could stay forever.
As I walked down the street, I smiled, looking at all the happy faces exiting the theatres around me.
Soon, I thought again. I will be the cause of those smiles.
I continued down the street, wanting to sit on the red steps for a while. It had somehow become my own center of the city, my creative home. The walk there was made without incident, and I settled down to watch the people around me.
“Hey, it’s First Time In New York Girl!”
Turning towards the somewhat familiar voice, I recognized my row partner from the plane. He was sitting just behind me, to the right a few spaces, wearing slacks and a loose, blue dress shirt, his brown hair spiked up all over. I was surprised to find that he looked a lot more handsome than I’d thought on the plane. There was something about the way his eyes matched his smile that made him seem like just the person I wanted to see tonight.
“Hey,” I said with a smile. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see a show,” he laughed. “Isn’t that what everyone is here for?”
“I guess,” I laughed.
“I’m Chris, by the way,” he said, holding his hand out. “I forgot to introduce myself on the flight.”
“Mara,” I said, scooting over and shaking it.
He looked at me for a second, seeming to think about something.
“Do you want to go get something to eat? You can tell me what you think of the city.”
“Sure,” I said with a smile, not minding his forwardness.
“Have you tried any New York pizza yet?” he asked with a laugh.
“I haven’t,” I said. “I’ve been a little busy.”
“Well, there’s a place right here,” he said, pointing behind me.
I turned to look, not knowing exactly where he was talking about.
“Of course, there’s almost a pizza place on every corner here,” he laughed. “At least every other block.”
“I’ll go wherever you’d like,” I laughed. “I’m actually pretty hungry.”
“Let’s get to it then,” he said, standing.
We
walked across the street to the little parlor he’d pointed out and ordered a slice each.
“I’ve got hers, too,” Chris said when we reached the register.
“You don’t have to,” I said quickly.
“It’s no big deal,” he laughed. “I asked you to come, so I’ll take care of it.”
“Okay,” I said, blushing a little.
We grabbed our food and squished into a table in the back. There was hardly any space to even stand and order, let alone eat. In true Big Apple fashion, the restaurant had squished as many tables as they could into the space. We slid into a few chairs the best we could, our pizza almost too much to fit on the tiny table top.
“So, Mara,” Chris said, pulling a few napkins out of the holder. “How do you like it here?”
“It’s fantastic,” I laughed, picking my soda up. “I never want to go anywhere else.”
“That’s a pretty strong reaction,” he laughed after swallowing his bite of pizza.
“I belong here,” I said with conviction. “I only regret not making it sooner.”
“Wow,” he said with a smile. “You really feel that good about it after only what, a week?”
“Have you ever known you belong somewhere, even if you’ve never set foot there?”
“No,” he laughed, picking his slice up again.
“Well, that’s how I feel about here,” I said, smiling. “I spent what feels like my whole life knowing that someday I would be here, and look at me now.”
“So, you’re an actress,” he laughed.
“Yes.”
“I thought so.”
He took a sip of his drink and wiped his mouth with the napkin.
“What do you do?” I asked, raising my slice to my mouth.
Taking Chances: A Sweet Contemporary Romance (Dreams) Page 2
