Big Apple Dreams

by Solomon, Kamery

  “I’m sure,” the other said with a slight sneer. “I did something similar last year that won me a nomination.”

  “For a Tony?” the first woman asked doubtfully.

  “No. It was out of state.”

  Head games, I thought.

  I knew it was common practice among actors to try and scare other people out of auditioning. It made sense to me. If I could get one less person to try out, I was that much more likely to get the part. It seemed so cruel, like cheating, that I never did it, though. I always liked to think that everything would be fair. My motto when it came to auditions was firm—I will do my best and if my best is the best, then I will get the part. Simple as that.

  As I listened to the women try to outdo each other, my stomach twisted uncomfortably. If I heard much more, I might not be able to stay. How could I compete with people who’d already been working here for years?

  I set my folder on my lap and slid my purse off my shoulder. Within seconds, I had my headphones in hand and connected them to my phone. Soon, I had entered my own bubble, the underhanded bickering next to me drowned out by the voices of my idols.

  I concentrated on relaxing, breathing deep and evenly as I closed my eyes.

  I’m good, I recited. It won’t matter if someone is singing the same song. Life will still go on if I don’t get the part. Broadway is still an attainable dream if they say no.

  I thought over the words and music I prepared, singing in my head. Goals and dreams played through my mind, the sounds flowing through my ears, helping the time to pass faster. After what felt like thirty minutes, the process began.

  Members of Actor’s Equity Association, the union for stage actors, had top priority. They were seen first, one of the perks of their membership. After them were the performers actively working towards membership through a points system. When they got cast in an Equity show, they earned a certain amount of points that eventually added up to a full blown place in the union. Lastly, were the people like me. We weren’t anywhere near the union, unless we wanted to pay the large amount of money it took to just join.

  The more I thought about it, the more my chances at being seen seemed to dwindle. I couldn’t give up now, though, with all I’d done to be there.

  The hours passed slowly once things started up. I left my seat once during the lunch break to use the restroom. I hurried as quickly as I could, terrified that the casting team would come back early and I would somehow miss being called in. Once I was safely back where I belonged, I ate the tiny amount of food I’d packed in my bag.

  Things got moving, again, and my nerves jumped to a whole new level as the list I was on began to be called forward. As I expected, very few people were missing. It felt like we were all inching forward, waiting to be called out from the dull, white hall.

  “Marama Adams?”

  I jumped out of my seat, my things held tightly as I nervously approached the desk.

  “Right through there,” she said, pointing at the door behind her.

  “Thank you,” I said, breathless.

  I slid past her quickly and placed my hand on the knob, pausing for a second to gather myself.

  Here we go. This is the starting line!

  I twisted the handle and pushed, entering the room with a smile. There was a table along one wall, several people sitting behind it. They were all staring at me, neutral, but friendly, expressions on their faces. Next to them, in the corner furthest from me, was the piano, a woman smiling at me from behind it.

  “Hello,” I said cheerily as I crossed the wooden floor, trying to display calm and confidence to them all.

  I reached the piano and handed my book to its player.

  “I’m Mara,” I said softly, shaking her hand after she set it down.

  “Julie,” she said.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m going to sing the first one in there,” I said, opening it for her. “It’s a pretty basic cut. I start at the beginning, and then it moves to here and goes until the end. I took out the extra pages for you.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled at me once more before looking over what I’d shown her.

  I then directed my attention to the panel, my quick introduction with the pianist done. They were all looking at me still, so I began, feeling that they were all ready.

  “Hi! My name is Marama Adams and I’ll be performing ‘A New Life’ from Jekyll and Hyde.”

  I looked down at the floor then, pulling my character up and letting her fall into my place. As my head rose, the music started and I told the story I had to share, giving it my all.

  Thirty two musical bars later, I finished and said thank you, waiting for any other instruction they might have.

  Pens scrawled across papers for a moment before a man in the middle of the table looked up at me.

  “Thank you.”

  I felt a small sting of disappointment, but smiled all the same, heading back to the piano to gather my things.

  “Thank you,” I said to Julie, shaking her hand again.

  “My pleasure,” she said kindly.

  And that was it. Before I could really think over everything I’d done and if it was right or wrong, I was back outside, walking down the street as if I’d never even stepped into an audition before.

  What had I been expecting? Surely, if they’d liked me they would have talked to me a little more. I’d prepared several other songs as well. Wouldn’t they have asked to hear more?

  They don’t like the way I look. My singing wasn’t what they were looking for.

  I walked through the busy streets, picking over every little thing I’d done, wondering how I could have done it better. Finally, I had to level with myself.

  You did your best. Maybe it was what they were looking for, maybe it wasn’t. There’s no use in dwelling on it now.

  I tried to put it out of my mind, getting on the subway and heading back to my house, but every now and then a little voice would nag at me about something.

  You failed at your first big audition. Everyone there knew you were new. They were laughing at you.

  Everything I’d somehow managed to block out while I waited to be seen was flooding in. My hopes and dreams were being dashed against the rocks, the disaster I’d just performed coming to a crashing end.

  The song was wrong! I should have gone for something more exciting that showed my range. I really blew it! Oh my gosh! What if they tell all of their casting buddies how horrible I was? I’m never going to get a job! I’m going to be laughed out of every call for the rest of my life. I’ve ruined everything—all because of that stupid song!

  I could feel tears building up and begging to break loose as I hurried up out of the tunnel and onto my street. Shoulders bumping into others, I pushed my way to the steps of the apartment building, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

  You didn’t wear the right clothes. You were too formal. You didn’t introduce yourself good enough. You didn’t do anything stupid to make them remember you. You didn’t talk to anyone else there. You didn’t try to figure out what you were up against. You didn’t, you didn’t, you didn’t . . .

  Somehow, I managed to make it through my door, locking it safely behind me before collapsing on the couch and succumbing to my tears.

  All my life, I’d dreamed of my first big Broadway audition. I would show up, the picture of confidence. Everyone would be friendly and helpful. I would sing my song so well that they asked to hear another, just because they didn’t want me to leave. In fact, they would invite me back for a callback immediately, because they could see what I had to offer. And after all that, I would get the part—the one thing my entire life had worked towards.

  I would become a part of New York, my face on billboards and voice coming over the radio. Fame wasn’t important, though. All I needed and wanted was to be on stage, sharing a story with the people who cared enough to listen. I had to be in the theatre to survive.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, a small, quiet voice whisp
ered that I’d known my first call would be like this. It would take a lot to get in. There were thousands—if not millions—of actors here, which meant more competition. They knew how to work in the city, I didn’t. Putting myself out there would come easier with time. I just needed to be patient.

  I slowly let my body cycle through all of the emotions I’d boxed up for most of the day. Even with everything done and over with, I still shook with fear and anticipation. There was always the chance that I’d been overly critical of my performance. They could still call and ask to see me again.

  I sniffed, wiping my eyes with my fingertips, as I sat up and nestled myself into a corner filled with fluffy pillows. My purse sat close by, so I pulled my phone out and turned it back on, having shut it off when my name was called.

  The screen lit up, the manufacturer’s logo appearing before my normal background loaded. After a short pause, a couple of messages came in, the icon appearing over my text box. They were all from my mom, asking how everything had gone.

  I messaged her back, saying that it was fine. I wasn’t ready to get into a big discussion on how acting makes me unnecessarily moody. Her reply was congratulatory and excited. It made me feel a little better. I really did just do something I’d dreamed about for years. Wasn’t that cause for celebration?

  I breathed out a sigh and sunk further into the cushions. My stomach called for the perfect celebratory and comfort food—pecan shortbread cookies. I didn’t have any in the house, though, since I was trying to stay in tip top shape for auditions.

  If I can eat pizza, I can have cookies, I rationalized.

  Grabbing up my purse, and wiping my eyes once more for good measure, I headed for the door. As I walked down to the corner to get my treat, I talked myself down again.

  There’s more than this audition. We’re going to go out and do this again lots of time. Some of them will be fantastic and everything we dreamed of. Others will be more experience under the belt. We can do this. One day we’ll star on Broadway.

  Chapter Four

  My feet pounded against the treadmill, pouring all of my anxieties into the workout. Two days had passed, and I’d heard nothing about my audition. I had no idea if that was normal or not.

  My ringtone came through my headphones, interrupting my thoughts. I picked it up out of the cup holder to see who was calling and stepped off the machine immediately.

  “Hello?” I asked, trying not to sound like I’d just spent the last half hour sprinting.

  “Hey.”

  Chris’s voice flooded into my ears, its silkiness washing over every inch of me. Instantly, I was reminded of his perfect smile, strong jaw, and stunning blue eyes. I couldn’t help the swarm of butterflies that erupted in my stomach. I hadn’t even realized I’d been waiting for him to get in touch with me.

  “How are things going?” he asked nonchalantly.

  “Pretty good, I guess.”

  “Good enough that you wouldn’t mind meeting me for dinner tonight?”

  “Wow, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?” I laughed, reaching over and switching the treadmill off.

  “Not really,” he chortled. “I never saw the point.”

  “Well, you’re in luck,” I said, packing up my things. “I happen to be off tonight. I worked the first shift this afternoon.”

  “Perfect.”

  I could hear the smile he was wearing when he spoke. My own grin grew as I thought about it.

  “So, do you want me to meet you somewhere?” I asked, not sure what he wanted to do.

  “No,” he laughed. “I’ll pick you up. What’s your address?”

  “I live in Harlem,” I said quickly. “Is that too far?”

  “A gentleman always picks his date up,” he laughed again. “It’ll be fine.”

  “Okay.” I quickly told him where I lived, stopping in the stairwell outside the gym as I left so I could hear him better.

  “I’ll see you in about three hours,” he said, flirtation strong in his voice.

  “All right,” I said, smiling.

  “Oh, wear something nice,” he added as an afterthought. “We’re going somewhere a little more dressed up, if you know what I mean.”

  “A dress then,” I said, mentally running through my closet.

  “Exactly,” he laughed.

  “Sounds great!”

  “Awesome. See you soon.”

  “Bye.”

  I ended the call and realized with a start that I only had three hours to get home, find something to wear, and be ready for his arrival.

  Jumping up from my spot on the stairs, I practically floated down the steps and onto the street outside. Once I was back home, I stripped my sweaty clothes off and hopped in the shower, a smile on my face.

  I’d dated some in my hometown, but nothing serious had ever come from it. Soul mates weren’t something I really believed in. With all the billions of people in the world, what were the odds of finding them if that were true? I did think there were people you were meant to have as part of your life, several of whom would make you more than happy to spend every day with, but I couldn’t rationalize spending my existence looking for one perfect person. Unsure of what I really wanted, I’d had no problem dating all types. So far, I hadn’t met anyone I’d wanted to spend the rest of forever with, and that was fine.

  Stepping out of the warmth that had helped relax my sore muscles, I grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped it tightly around myself, tucking the corner between my breasts before grabbing another and twisting my hair into it. A quick breeze over the mirror with my hairdryer left the glass ready for my preparations.

  I pulled my makeup bag out from under the sink, the glittery, silver polka dots striking against the red background. Thanks to makeup classes, I covered my face quickly and expertly, wearing a little more than usual, since I was going out.

  The satchel in the cupboard once more, I untwisted the tower on top of my head, wet tresses falling onto my shoulders. I breathed in deeply, relishing in the fresh, cool feeling that came with ridding myself of the extra heat and weight. My phone, left by the rim of the sink, revealed how much time I had left. It was enough to sit down and work a pick through my hair instead of pulling a brush through it quickly.

  I grabbed the blue comb from the counter and walked into the main part of the apartment, checking to make sure the curtains were closed before letting my makeshift dress fall to the floor. A quick perusal through my now unpacked things revealed the black, lacy bra and underwear I wanted to wear. I slid them on, happy with how they made my body look. It seemed a shame I was the only one who’d ever seen it.

  Settling onto the bed, still laid out from last night’s slumber, I began to untangle my locks, enjoying the soft pull on my scalp. I wasn’t overly sensitive about it—I didn’t feel the need to look like I’d just left the salon every day—but it was nice to give it a little extra attention today.

  Once I was satisfied with my damp hair, I rose and walked over to the closet, an outfit already in mind. When I’d first arrived in the city, I’d bought a purple dress in celebration, wanting my first purchase to be something I could keep and use. It had nice short sleeves and a square neckline, with a tight skirt that came to just above my knees. I felt like I belonged here that much more when I wore it.

  I slid the smooth fabric over my head and zipped up the back, my curves accented perfectly. A quick check in the mirror on the door showed that none of my underthings were revealed. My bare feet padded across the floor as I went back to the bathroom, thinking about how to wear my hair and what jewelry I should pick.

  Finally, the time for Chris to arrive had come. I checked my reflection once more, making sure my chic twist was still poised to hold up for the night. The faux pearls I’d picked out glimmered in my ears and along my collar bone, little gold rings between each ball on the necklace.

  There was a knock at the door as I slid the lip gloss applicator over my lips once, smiling at myself before going to a
nswer it.

  Chris was much more handsome than I remembered. His brown hair was styled smooth, slicked down in perfection except for his bangs, which formed a soft wave on one side. I suddenly remembered him saying he had a good paycheck as I looked over his suit, certain it was designer.

  “Wow,” he said.

  His appreciative comment brought my eyes back to his face, a sigh fighting to break free from my own mouth at his sparkling blue eyes and dazzling white smile. He’d shaved the stubble from his face, unlike the last time I’d seen him. It suited him better this way.

  “Hi,” I laughed, realized he caught me staring.

  “You look amazing,” he said, his teeth shining out at me.

  “So do you,” I said, blushing slightly.

  “These are for you,” he said, pulling three long stemmed roses from behind him.

  “Thank you! You shouldn’t have,” I said, taking them excitedly.

  “Every girl deserves flowers on a first date,” he said, his hands going into his pockets.

  I laid the flowers on the desk, turning back to him quickly, a grin of my own plastered to my face.

  “Shall we?” he asked, stepping out of the way, so I could exit into the hall.

  “Sure,” I said, picking up my small, black purse and pulling my keys from it.

  He closed the door for me and I locked it, butterflies fluttering in my stomach as he remained close, hand on the knob.

  I’d never felt so excited about going out with someone. He’d already topped the chivalry I’d experienced on every other date. Even my senior prom had found me in the corner by myself while Adam McCarthy danced with every other girl in the room.

  “I hope you like Italian,” he said as we walked away.

  “I do,” I said, readjust the chain link strap on my shoulder.

  “We’re going to one of my favorite restaurants,” he said as we descended the stairs.

  We walked side by side, fortunate that no one came up to separate us. Shock mingled in my mind, unsure why I was suddenly so excited to be going out on a date. I let everything slip away as we left the building, traveling down the steps to the cab waiting by the curb.