Pulling my mind back to the present, I hopped into my mother’s old Taurus, excited to get going, excited to nail this part. Since I’d chased Markus away last night, and Raylene hadn’t come downstairs, and Mom had been at the movies, I’d had nothing to do but run lines last night. I was now capable of reading the lines without the sides.
I turned the ignition, but all I heard was click. A dead click. An, I’m dead and now you’ll be late click.
“No! God! No!” I tried again, but nothing. “Why?” I smashed my fingers over my eyes, then pulled my hands back, remembering I was wearing mascara. “Of all the days … of all the luck! How in the world could I have such bad luck?”
I lifted my phone and stared at it. I knew I didn’t have a choice. My mother would be running the store, and Raylene ran a bank … There was only one person who could help me.
“Dammit!” I closed my eyes and slammed my head back against the headrest. I didn’t have a choice. I picked up one of the fliers from the floor and dialed the number.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Markus chirped.
How could he be so sweet after I was so … so … grouchy? But then a thought hit me. “Hey, how did you know it was me? I didn’t give you my phone number.”
“I asked Raylene for it a while ago. I just never got the nerve to call you.”
“Oh …” I sighed, wondering what would have happened if he had contacted me. If we’d met in New York, would we have picked up where we left off when we were nineteen? Would he have stayed in New York if I’d asked him? Would I have followed him home if he’d asked me? Or, would I have rejected him and seen the dejected face I witnessed last night? I had no right to be so cruel. And I especially had no right to ask him for a favor after I’d treated him horribly. “Markus, I’m sorry —”
“It’s okay, Laine. As I told you last night, this is my hang-up, not yours.”
“Well, I am sorry about being a bitch last night, but that’s not what I was apologizing for. I’m sorry because after acting that way, I have the nerve to ask you for a favor.”
Markus’s wonderful laughter floated through the phone. “You weren’t being bitchy; you were being honest, and I can respect that. What do you need?”
My heart ached at his words. I had never deserved Markus. Not when we were kids, not now. “My mother’s car won’t start, and I’m supposedly first up today.”
“I’ll be right there.” He hung up, and I dropped my head to the steering wheel as I’d done the previous evening.
Seriously, of all the days … Fate, the evil harpy she was, apparently didn’t want me to land this role. Apparently, instead of being a good fairy godmother who wanted a happily-ever-after for me, she was evil and preferred to spend her days weaving schemes and cooking up mishaps and roadblocks for me to traverse. Like me, maybe the entity who oversaw my fate was interested in the theater, too, and thought that humor made for a good show.
Minutes into my self-loathing and ridiculous thoughts, an engine roared behind me. I whipped my head up to see Markus hop out of a Jeep, jumper cables strung over his shoulder.
“Pop the hood,” he said as he strolled by, coming to a stop in front of the car.
I pulled on a latch, but nothing clicked.
Markus opened the driver’s door and pushed my hand away. “That’s the brake release. The trunk release is down here.” Just a hint of soap interspersed with cinnamon wafted up from Markus. He always smelled so good. So clean. So …
The hood popped open with a clunk, and I jumped.
“You okay?” Markus asked as he patted my knee.
I licked my suddenly dry lips. “Yeah … Ummm … I’m just jumpy. Nervous about today.”
He stared down at me for a brief second. “Of course. I can imagine. Let’s see if we can get you on your way.”
Markus moved to the hood of the car again and hefted up the cover, propping it open with a piece of metal. Zayde had taught me to drive when I was fifteen, but I knew nothing about cars. I’d never owned one. Right out of college I’d moved to New York.
“Give it a try,” Markus called as he peeked at me around the hood.
I turned the key, and it continued to click.
“Are the lights and radio off?” he asked.
I inspected both. “Yep.”
Markus walked back to the door. “The battery terminals are corroded, so I can’t get a good connection. The car’s been sitting too long.” I looked up, wondering if he was making sexual innuendos again, but I didn’t see humor in his eyes. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you so you won’t be late.”
“But … don’t you have to work at the store later today?” I was surprised he was willing to drive me, especially since he’d sounded as though he’d rather I didn’t get the part last night.
“Not on Wednesdays.”
I snatched my duffel bag off the seat. “Are you sure?” I inspected his clothes, which were even nicer than yesterday. Jeans again, but he had on a long-sleeve button-down plaid shirt over a black T-shirt. And not the old-fashioned red-and-black flannel plaid. The shirt was predominantly white and gray, with thin black lines. The stitching looked expensive. Then again, Markus had always dressed nicely. It looked as though he were dressed for a meeting.
“Of course, I’m sure.” He walked with me to the passenger side of his vehicle, opening the door for me.
I turned to him before stepping up on the running board. “They told me I would go first today, but I’ve learned not to put much weight into statements made on the fly. It’s the showbiz way. It might take all day again. If you drop me off, I can just catch a ride back via Uber.”
“Ummm … no. I’m not leaving you thirty miles from home. Besides,” Markus winked, “I can write on my tablet wherever I am. Hop up before you’re late.”
Once again, Markus was proving how one-sided our friendship was. There had to be something I could do for him. What could I do for Markus to repay him? An idea popped into my mind and I shook it out. “Not that.”
“What’s that?” Markus asked as he hopped up into the Jeep on the driver’s side.
“Nothing,” I murmured. “Just practicing my lines.”
He turned the ignition, and the engine roared to life. I glared at the unfaithful Taurus as we backed away from it, thinking, See how easy that is, Taurus. Key turns, you start. Now I was in the position of owing Markus. I didn’t like owing people. Especially when paying him back meant more time around him, which meant more time to risk my heart. Something told me if I spent much more time with Markus, I might be stuck in Pittsburgh forever.
But as I’d thought a couple of times in the last few days, Pittsburgh might not be such a bad place to be stuck.
Hours passed as I waited in the room with a hundred or so other actors. Only this time, male and female, young and old actors, filled the room.
These were the final callbacks for all the parts, I assumed.
I stared around the room at my competition. About ten women fit what I thought were the minimum requirements to play the major lead. Then again, the script had a character who was about the same age as the lead, a literary agent. And then there was the main character’s cousin, who was about ten years younger than she was.
What if they wanted me for a minor role? Would I be willing to put my life on hold — again — for a trivial role? I’d performed plenty of supporting roles over the years. They were nearly as much work, as I typically memorized all the lines so I’d know my cues. Money wasn’t the issue either. I’d never cared about making a fortune. I just wanted one major role in my life. So no, if they only wanted me for a few scenes —
“Alaina Ackerman?” the monitor’s voice broke me from my thoughts.
“Yes. I’m Alaina Ackerman.” I hustled my way down the aisle of the few remaining hopefuls and followed the monitor into the next room, which led directly to the stage this time.
The lights were brighter than the first two times I’d stood here, making it hard to
see, but I focused on the spot where Howard Edwards had sat the previous days. The seat was empty. Frantically, I squinted against the spotlights, searching every face. The best I could tell, Howard wasn’t in any of the seats.
“Ms. Ackerman,” a man called from somewhere below me.
To shield the onslaught of light, I lifted my hand to my brow. “Yes, sir?”
“Mr. Edwards has left for the day, and we already have your audition recorded, so we’ll call you if we need you.”
I bit down on my tongue. Keep your mouth shut. Never open your mouth. Never respond with anything but thank you. But I wanted to. I wanted to scream at him for making me waste three days of my life. Five days if I counted the practicing. Twenty years if I coupled him with every other CD who hadn’t treated me as anything but an object.
But all I said was, “Thank you.”
I scanned the wall behind me, looking for the exit through watery eyes. Why had they given me hope only to snatch it away again? I would have rather they’d been like the others: Thanks. We’ll call you. Instead, they’d asked me back again and again. I’d thought I’d been fine with my lot. Thought I’d decided that I was through with auditions. But clearly, I’d been too pre-occupied with everything else going on around me — Joe’s sudden departure; my employer going out of business; coming home; feelings about Markus — to grieve the loss of my career.
As I slammed through the glass exit doors, I dropped my sides into a trashcan. Markus had said to call him when I was finished, that he’d just be down the street, but I didn’t want him to see me like this. I didn’t want him to see that I was crying over something so stupid. After all, there were a lot worse things in the world. People were starving. People were dying. I was only losing a dream I’d chased after for twenty years. Surely that wasn’t a good enough reason to want to drop down on the ground and cry my eyes out. Wasn’t a good reason that my heart felt like it was breaking in two.
But it was … Because just like someone who’d been cheated on, my career choice had cheated me. I’d given my career everything. Spent every day of the last twenty years starving myself. Spent thousands upon thousands of hours searching for casting calls, then wasted tens of thousands of hours practicing. Lived like a vagabond. Given up a chance to be a mother …
As soon as I was out of sight of the theater, I dropped down on a bench. I couldn’t let Markus see me like this because I knew deep down I’d also given up a life with Markus, a life I knew I could have had with one word. I could have said yes twenty years ago. I could have chosen not to care what would have happened if we had sex. I hadn’t been afraid of getting pregnant; I’d been on the pill. I knew Markus didn’t have a disease because he’d never had a girlfriend. Asking if he had a condom had been the only way I knew to stop the inevitable. I’d said no when he hadn’t been prepared to make love to me twenty years ago because I knew I hadn’t been prepared to give up my career. Knew that going to the next level with Markus would have made it impossible to leave him.
8
The Cage
Long arms folded around me, but instead of jumping, I melted into the warmth of them. I knew these arms as though they were my own. And I could smell him.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” Markus said as he slid onto the bench next to me.
I turned in his arms. “I just don’t understand,” I blubbered like a little kid. “Why call me back? Why did they tell me to come back if they didn’t want to see me again, if Howard wasn’t even going to be here?”
Markus tightened his arms around me, then smoothed his hands down the back of my head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. And believe me, I know how you feel. What it feels like to be rejected.”
I pulled back just slightly and whispered into his neck, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean —”
He bent his head down, then wiped away my tears that were still falling. “Not by you, Laina, though that hurt too. By agents. I can’t tell you how many times my query letters were rejected before I found an agent. It stings.”
I hadn’t thought about that. “Yeah … that would suck.”
Markus pushed my hair back and kissed me on the forehead. His lips were warm and soft. It’d be so easy to forget about everything. To —
“Hey, let’s go get those drinks,” Markus said, breaking me out of my weak thoughts. “We’ll drop off the Jeep, and go bar-crawling.”
I laughed without meaning to. Leave it to Markus to have me laughing within seconds of bawling. “I haven’t bar-crawled since I was in my twenties.”
“Well, there are only a few good bars in Squirrel Hill, so it’ll be a short crawl. Whaddya say?”
I sniffed. As always, just like when something didn’t go right in high school, Markus would hug me and make me smile. We’d sit around and come up with creative names to call whomever we were mad at. I was sure I could come up with a few choice nicknames for Howard Edwards the Second. I sniffed. “Sure. Sounds like fun.”
Markus parked behind the store. It was past five, so my mother would be long gone.
As soon as Markus unlocked the door, the pup started yipping.
“A new security system,” I said.
“Yeah.” Markus laughed. “That’s what I told your mother.”
“Oh? And how did she take the idea of a dog being in her shop?”
He shrugged. “Actually, she was pretty cool about it. She seemed to like him. As long as I make sure he’s trained before I release him in the house or store, of course.” Markus leaned over a plastic gate he’d set up, which blocked the pup from having free rein of the store, but gave him room to run. “Let me take him outside real quick.”
“Okay.” I sniffed again, still trying to get a handle on myself after my crying jag. I felt so stupid, but Markus hadn’t made me feel embarrassed at all. And he didn’t seem happy about me failing, as I’d accused him of being last night. His eyes had genuinely been sad when he’d looked down at me. And his arms had been so warm. So comfortable. So … Stop it, Alaina.
“Good boy, Buddy,” Markus said, and he and the pup came tromping back inside. “He’s a smart one. He might be trained in no time.”
I leaned down and scratched Buddy behind one ear. “What type of breed is he?”
Markus squatted down beside me. “Not sure. Mostly golden Lab, I think. But I can’t tell what else. His nose is square, which reminds me of a boxer. It’d explain why he’s so sweet and smart. I can’t imagine a better mix than a Lab and a boxer.”
What kind of people mix was Markus that made him so sweet? I wondered. I’d never thought to ask. I tilted my head to look at the pup, but then pulled back when I bumped heads with Markus. “Yeah, I see it,” I said, but really all I could think about was how close my legs were to Markus’s … how close our mouths were …
“All right,” Markus said as he picked up the pup and set him back behind the gate, “Let’s go get you one of my sweatshirts.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Do you think I’m going to give one of my prized Steelers or Pirates sweatshirts to Buddy? You know I can’t be caught dead in Squirrel Hill with you wearing a Yankees shirt. Maybe downtown, but not here. I have friends, you know.”
I rolled my eyes. I thought about arguing, but the thought of stealing one of Markus’s sweatshirts kept my mouth sealed.
Markus headed toward the stairs that led to his apartment, but I held back. “Aren’t you coming?” he asked.
“Ummm …” I gulped, and then bit down on my lip. “I’m going to play with Buddy. Get him used to me in case I end up raising him.”
Markus lifted his chin in what looked like a laugh, but then just said, “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
I petted Buddy, loving how soft his fur was. “You want to come home with me, boy?” He licked my hand and I continued to pet him. The thought of taking care of someone — something — other than myself was intriguing.
“Here ya go.” Markus tromped down the stairs. He handed me a Steelers sweat
shirt that would be entirely too big.
“Thanks.” I walked into the bathroom to change, but before I pulled it on, I lifted it to my face and inhaled. It smelled like Markus, Ivory soap and cinnamon. Maybe he had cinnamon in his apartment. I harrumphed to myself, then whispered softly to my reflection. “You don’t know what you want, do you?”
“Well,” Markus said as I stepped out of the bathroom, “I hate to sound cliché, especially since I’m a writer, but dannnnngggg, that shirt sure looks better on you than it does on me.”
My cheeks burned. “What do you mean? It’s practically falling to my knees.”
“Exactly.” He pulled softly on the V-neck, and I smacked his hand away. “What? Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“Markus, if you don’t behave …”
He lifted his chin, obviously doing his best not to smile. “You’ll …?”
“Oh, let’s just go.”
Markus scooped up my hand and led me out the front door. “You hungry?” he asked as he locked up the shop. “It’s kind of divey, but I thought we should get something to eat, and at The Cage we can eat and drink. The Penguins are playing, but since we’re so early, we might even be able to get a great seat.”
“That’s exactly what I feel like doing, Markus. Heck, we don’t even need to crawl anywhere else. We can party all night and practically crawl back to your place from there.”
One side of Markus’s face pulled up. “I’m game.”
[What's Luck Got To Do With It 02.0] Down on Her Luck Page 7
