Ding.
Now I was the one getting a text from Hubert. Hmm, maybe Chase got it mixed up. Maybe Hubert was texting me to meet him at Thousand-Watt Smile rehearsal tomorrow morning.
Hi, Justin. I need you to do a few errands tomorrow. List with the doorman again.
OK, I sent back, deciding not to challenge him till I could figure out what was up. Hubert was so friendly to me when we spoke on the phone before my internship, but now it’s like he’s purposefully keeping me away from rehearsal. Why?
I desperately needed to hash this out with someone, but the only people I want to call are no longer my friends. I decided that I alone would figure out a way to bypass Hubert’s Broadway blockade. I had to find a way to get into that rehearsal! But first I had to eat that cupcake.
Delish.
When I arrived at my grandmother’s brownstone, I put my phone on reverse photo again so I could take a quick picture to put on my website. I had posted one of myself arriving this morning and I thought it would be cool to bookend it with one of me arriving in the same place at the end of the day. I took a pic with the flash (angling the camera from the top to make my double chin look more like an extended single chin) and uploaded it right from my phone to the website. Then I captioned it “After a long day of nonstop Broadway (and coffee with Chase!) I need some sleep!” I posted it while standing on the street and then compared the morning photo of me arriving with the nighttime one. Wow. A lot had happened in the time between those two shots. I traveled to Staten Island, lost two friends, met a new friend/possible boyfriend, and hung out with a Broadway star. The perfect description of ups and downs.
As I walked up the stairs to enter the building, I saw an envelope taped to the door with my name on it. Exciting! Was it a handwritten apology from Spencer? A business card with Devon’s contact info?
Before I opened it, I glanced at my watch and was relieved to see it wasn’t that late yet. Only eleven o’clock. Excellent! I could still call Spencer and accept his apology or call Devon and say yes to his request for a date. Either way I win!
The envelope had one sheet of paper in it. I unfolded it and read it. It was in all capital letters and black Sharpie.
HE’S A FAKE!
I stood there, staring at the note and thought three things.
What did that mean?
Who was it about?
And, more important, who sent it?
My alarm went off the next morning and the anonymous letter was sitting on my chest. I lay down in bed with the express purpose of staying up for hours analyzing the letter’s handwriting, but I only got in a solid four minutes before the deliciousness of the down quilt lulled me to sleep. I got myself out of bed, had a quick shower and breakfast, and put the letter in my bag. I saw my grandmother emerge from her bedroom as I was getting my coat.
“What’s going on out there?” she asked, holding her ears. “The Watts Riots?”
Typical. Grandma Sally was always referencing something that was incredibly timely during her heyday but sounded like made-up words to anyone born after 1980.
“Sorry I woke you,” I said.
“I don’t care about that. It’s the people upstairs who always complain if there’s the slightest noise.” She went into the kitchen.
I knew what she was talking about, but they don’t complain when there’s “the slightest noise.” They complain when there’s a crazy amount of noise. Grandma Sally only owns one radio and she insists on keeping it in her kitchen. When she cleans the apartment, she puts the radio on the highest volume possible so she can hear it from anyplace in the apartment. Or, more honestly, anyplace in the apartment building.
I followed her into the kitchen and saw her open the refrigerator.
“I was gonna make you a little something,” she said, taking a dish out of the refrigerator.
A little something? She was holding up an entire brisket. Grandma Sally often forgot I was a vegetarian.
“Aw, thanks,” I said, and gave her a little kiss. “But I’m going to eat at the theater. See you later!”
I walked out of the building and took the same path to the Dakota. This time I knew what to do when I got there. I approached the kiosk, and instead of asking to be let in like I foolishly did yesterday, I asked for the envelope from Hubert. I opened it and noticed that this time, instead of one major errand, it was a list of many, many errands. In all different parts of town. So, now instead of one incredibly long trip to an outer borough, I was supposed to go all the way up to Harlem (drop off a bouquet of flowers to the owner of Sylvia’s Restaurant), down to a handmade furniture store on the Lower East Side (take photos of available coffee tables with mosaic tops because Chase is redecorating), across town to Chelsea (get a dozen cupcakes from Billy’s Bakery), and back up to Chase’s chiropractor on East Eighty-Eighth Street (drop off the cupcakes). And that was just the first page. I decided to start with the ones farthest away from the Upper West Side to get them over with and then “reward” myself with the ones that were closer to home.
Ding.
On my way to the subway, I got a text from Devon. Yes!
Your grandma gave me your number. Hope you don’t mind.
Hi, Devon! I’m on my way to the subway. Are you in school?
He wrote back right away.
Yes. But I have a free period.
What’s up?
I was watching Kristin Chenoweth clips on YouTube and was wondering if you like her best when she sings soprano or when she belts.
I was about to answer when he texted again.
Or sings country?
Well, that does change it, I thought. I started to respond but my phone dinged again.
Or do you prefer her acting over her singing?
Hmm. Now it was a lot of choices. As I was thinking, I heard ding.
Sure enough, on my screen there were more choices.
And if acting is your preference, Broadway or TV?
The light was turning red, so I ran across the street toward the subway entrance and took out my phone to respond. There was another text on my screen.
Or films! Don’t forget, she was great in “Bewitched” r. I decided to go down the stairs to the subway and wait three minutes to see if there were any other addendums. Nothing. Finally, I took my phone out again to text him but it said I was out of range.
The number 1 train pulled into the Seventy-Second Street station and I got on easily. In the morning hours, everyone is rushing to go downtown to work, but the uptown trains are deliciously empty. I sat down and was mulling over all of the choices Devon presented to me and then decided on a way I could turn this exchange into something more. I would tell him I was undecided and that perhaps we could discuss it later. Over dinner. It wouldn’t officially sound like I was asking him out, but he could think of it that way if he was interested. The train pulled into 125th Street and I had service again. I wrote Devon the text I planned out and waited for the immediate ding.
No response.
I opted to not be devastated by the outright rejection and instead decided that he had to go back to class and therefore couldn’t text me. I focused on getting all of my Hubert work done so I could then go to the theater and somehow get in to watch some actual rehearsal.
The whole morning was a nightmare. Besides having to run to all corners of Manhattan on increasingly crowded subways, the other bad part was that my thoughts kept going to Spencer and Becky. I wondered what they were doing. Did they have breakfast together? Were they talking about me? Were they still mad at me? Argh! My brain was relentless. I continuously checked for a text from Devon to cheer me up but my phone remained silent.
By 12:30, I finished the errands that were in the most difficult-to-reach places and now only had to do the ones that were closer to where I lived. They were actually easy and went much faster than I expected: pick up some organic shampoo at the Lush that was being held for him, get some fresh parsley at Citarella and drop it back at the Dakota, and buy an
d gift wrap some vegetarian dog biscuits at Spot, an upscale doggie store. I was racing through them! I’m sure Hubert thought these errands would take me all day, but I know my way around town. I only had one left (dropping off a big envelope to an address midtown) and would soon be able to spend some quality Chase time at the theater.
I took a downtown bus to Columbus Circle and when I got off, I took a look at the entrance to Central Park. There was still snow on the ground and trees from the New Year’s Eve storm and everything looked so pretty. Spencer and I always talked about one day walking through Central Park from where it began on Fifty-Ninth Street all the way up to the north side on 110th Street. I knew that I’d probably only last ten minutes and then beg him to let us take a cab the rest of the way, but it didn’t even matter now because I’d never get the chance. We were officially broken up.
All right. I admit it. I miss Spencer. Not the annoying stuff. The good stuff. What little of it there was. Well, I guess there was more than a little. Regardless, I missed however much or little there was.
Then why don’t you reach out?
No way!!!
If Spencer and I were going to date or even be friends again, it was not going to be from me begging. I needed to accept the reality that it was over. It would, however, be easier to accept if I got a text from Devon confirming dinner. I decided to focus on finishing this last errand so I could crash today’s rehearsal. I got to the address on Sixth Avenue that Hubert had written down and walked into the very modern and expensive lobby. It had a whole wall that was a waterfall. Nice! I looked again at the Hubert memo, which simply told me to drop off the enclosed 8 x 10 envelope on the thirty-eighth floor. I took the elevator up and when the doors opened, I immediately wanted to turn around. I was right at the welcome desk of GlitZ!
Ah! I didn’t want to run into Spencer!
Yet, if I didn’t finish these errands, I’d never be able to visit Chase at rehearsal.
The elevator doors closed behind me but I didn’t move. I was standing there debating what to do for so long that the very skinny, very blond, and very long-haired (obviously extensions) receptionist asked if she could help me. Well, the longer I was there, the more chance I had of running into Spencer, so I realized I should just drop off the envelope and get out.
I did just that. I went to the desk, placed the envelope down, and quickly said, “These are for you. Take care!” I turned around, speed-walked to the elevator, and pressed the DOWN button. Come on, come on!
“Um,” I heard her say. I turned around and saw that she was brandishing the package away from her like it was the urine sample I carried yesterday. “What is this?” She put it on the desk and pushed it away from her to the edge.
I was forced to go back.
“They’re from Chase Hudson,” I said, standing at the desk as I gently pushed the envelope back toward her.
“Like I said, what is it?” she asked again, pushing it toward me.
I looked over my shoulder at the elevator. It was on the eighteenth floor and slowly rising. I knew she must have had some policy about not accepting anything unless she knew the contents. Annoying! I quickly opened the envelope and showed her the inside. It was filled with photos and negatives of Chase modeling as a teenager.
Wow. Did he never have an awkward phase?
She pointed a lacquered nail at the elevator.
“Those are for the archives. Take the elevator to B and drop them there.” And with that, she picked up her cell phone and turned away from me.
Well, at least it looked like I could escape before Spencer saw me. I walked to the elevator and waited while she whispered on her phone. I couldn’t hear her whole conversation, but I managed to hear the words “works for Chase,” “stupid Broadway T-shirt,” and “something between an Afro and a home perm.” I held my chin high and preferred to think she was talking about someone else with my exact same wardrobe and hairstyle.
The elevator thankfully came and I got in and pushed B. It went straight down and when the doors opened, I was suddenly looking into an area that had none of the glamour of the upstairs GlitZ offices. It was basically a dimly lit hallway with a bare lightbulb hanging in it. What a downer. I got out and the elevator door closed behind me. Where do I go? Then I saw a handwritten sign taped up on the wall that said ARCHIVES with an arrow pointing to the left. When I walked, every footstep echoed. Creepy. I got to the only door and knocked. It opened and there stood…Becky!
Ah!
I totally forgot she was stuck in this dungeon. We stared at each other. I looked past her and saw that her “office” was a mess. There were enormous file cabinets everywhere and every open surface was covered with photos. Because it was the basement, there were no windows and whatever lightbulbs GlitZ was using made Becky’s skin look white and green at the same time. I felt a little sorry for her, but not enough to be friendly. I hadn’t forgotten how she and Spencer teamed up against me last night.
“I’m not here to accept your apology,” I said. I knew she would think “what apology?” but before she could respond, I walked in, brandishing my envelope. “I’m here because of my exciting internship.”
I held the envelope out to her.
Becky stared at me as she absentmindedly flipped her hair away from her face. Yes, the light made her look sickly, but of course, she still was gorgeous. She took the envelope.
I started walking back toward the door.
“Is that all, sir?” she asked.
“Yes, it is, ma’am,” I said, and then made sure she saw me look at my watch. “As you know, I’m working with a big Broadway star, so I have no time to take you up on your invitation to linger.”
I turned to leave. But when I opened the door, I stopped dead in my tracks. There in the doorway stood…Scotty Preston.
Gasp! And sigh!
He’s not only the hottest teen model right now, but he’s also starring in his own Disney TV show (Scotty…with an S) and has a hit song on the Disney label (“Singing…with an S”). And the big news is, all the cast members on his show are part of a new campaign against bullying. Each kid has a topic; the lead girl’s focus is about body image, Scotty’s sidekick (who has cerebral palsy) focuses on bullying kids in wheelchairs, and Scotty’s campaign is about gay kids! The most recent one is a picture of him looking right at the camera, and underneath it says, “Bullying gay kids isn’t just mean, it’s stupid. With an S.” The extra sentence doesn’t really make a lot of sense, but I have no problem with the campaign since it features him wearing a tight blue T-shirt that shows off his triceps. Or biceps. Hmm…traps? I don’t really know the difference. Let’s just say his arms look amazing in the photo.
Even though I said I had no time to linger, now all I wanted to do was linger. And stare.
“Hi, Becky.” What the— Scotty knows Becky!
Wait a minute! This could be more than a staring session for me. If Scotty knew Becky, then she could be the middleman (girl?) who sets us up on a date.
“Hi, Scotty, come on in,” she said with a smile.
He walked past me and I let the door shut. Unfortunately, I left my mouth open. I knew I looked crazy and forced myself to close it.
There. I then put a relaxed expression on my face.
“I have everything right here,” he said, and put down an envelope.
Uh-oh. That was it? What if he was about to turn around and leave? I had to have Becky introduce us before he was out the door. Yes, we were in a fight, but I hope she knew that this kind of thing trumped any kind of disagreement we had. We could always go back to not speaking.
I looked toward Becky and made my eyes super big, then quickly looked back and forth from Scotty to Becky (without him seeing me).
She smiled at me and nodded. “If you’ll excuse me a minute, Scotty.”
“No problem,” he said, and Becky walked over to me.
As soon as she was within earshot, I whispered, “I’ve always had the biggest crush on him. Can you please
, please, please introduce me?”
She responded in a normal volume. “Thank you for dropping off those pictures.”
Huh?
She then opened the door and gave her dazzling smile.
“But—”
“I’m sure you remember the elevator is just down the hall.”
What was happening?
“I—”
She put her arm around me in a friendly way, but she was actually pushing me out.
“I remember you just told me that you have ‘no time to linger,’ so I don’t want to keep you.”
I was almost out the door at this point.
“Becky—” I started. Then stopped. Scotty was looking at us. I didn’t want his first impression of me to be me standing in the door, yelling, “I demand you set me up on a date with him!”
I pasted on a big smile. “Thank you for all your help today.” Then I grabbed her hand and shook it. “Believe me when I say”—I looked into her eyes—“I’ll never forget it.”
Becky removed her hand. “Take care,” she said as she let the door shut in my face.
How dare she!
I walked back to the elevator and took it up one flight.
I stood in the lobby. Argh! I had lost my chance to meet him. And I can’t date him if I never meet him. The nerve of Becky. After all I’ve done for her!
Then I realized I actually could still meet Scotty! I just had to wait for him here. She can’t control the lobby. When he gets off the elevator, I’ll introduce myself and bring the conversation around to the bullying campaign he’s doing. I’ll tell him I have a few ideas on how to help even more gay kids and that I’d love to discuss them over lunch.
In truth, I don’t have a few ideas. I actually only have one: start dating someone like me so that average-looking gay kids across the country can have some hope they’ll one day date a TV star. We’d both be doing a big public service.
My phone vibrated. Oh, right! Cell reception doesn’t work in the basement, and I probably had a buildup of texts from Devon. Wow! Two prospective boyfriends to choose from! I looked at my phone but instead of a slew of texts from Devon, I only had one. And it was from Hubert. In all caps.
The Rise and Fall of a Theater Geek Page 7
