Roman and Jewel

by Dana L. Davis

  “Feels good to be back at Pioneerz.”

  His voice is soothing. Deep. Calming.

  “It was earlier this year,” he continues. “After a set on this very stage, that a guy chased me down the street. Turned out he wasn’t trying to kill me.”

  The crowd laughs. Zeppelin does, too.

  “The guy’s name was Robert Christian Ruiz. Anybody know him?”

  Pretty much everyone seated at the tables and booths erupt into wild cheers.

  “He said to me, and I quote, ‘You’re the Roman of my dreams.’” I was like, ‘Huh?’” He laughs again. The crowd laughs with him. “Eight auditions later I was cast in my first Broadway musical. As the lead in his Romeo and Juliet reimagining, Roman and Jewel.”

  More wild cheers from the audience. The loudest of all from the table of cast members. I can’t help but feel the tiniest bit of heartache. Robbie said something similar to me. Jewel came to life because of you.

  “This song has been covered by a lot of people,” Zeppelin goes on. “But the version by Lori Lieberman is the first. And it’s my favorite.”

  Those beautiful, musician hands of his begin to lightly strum his guitar.

  “Since Lori’s a girl singing about a boy, I thought about changing all the gendered pronouns. But we’re in Brooklyn, damnit.” The crowd cheers again. Zeppelin smiles. “So yeah. Use your imagination, I guess. This is ‘Killing Me Softly With His Song.’”

  When he opens his mouth to sing, his voice is all falsetto. Maybe this is how King David sounded when he composed psalms in a quiet cave so many thousands of years ago. Maybe it’s what an angel would sound like if he whispered in your ear. It’s serene, it’s melancholy, it’s hypnotic. I want nothing more than to leave this place...but I’m unable to. Not at this moment anyway. The lyrics he sings are my story right now. It’s a song about a girl who comes to see a boy play. She listens to him singing and playing the guitar, and it feels like it’s all about her. Like he’s found her secret letters and is reading them out loud.

  I wipe my cheek. I’m crying now. Officially. If I don’t get out of this restaurant, I’m convinced I’ll slump to the floor like a wilted flower. I will my legs into motion and turn to push through the mass of mesmerized patrons all staring adoringly up at the stage. Probably falling in love, too. I’m guessing it’s an easy thing to do when Zeppelin is involved. Can’t believe I said I pride myself on not being cliché. Ha! At this point, I’m pretty much the very definition.

  I make it to the door and step outside into the humid, nighttime air. The lyrics to his gentle lullaby are my new soundtrack. “Killing Me Softly” is exactly what’s happening here. Soft...gentle...love—the worst way to meet your demise. I see my taxi pull up a few feet down the street and run to it. Literally.

  “That was quick,” the driver says as I step inside and strap in.

  I wipe away more tears, praying he doesn’t notice. But our eyes meet through the rearview mirror.

  Thankfully this is my kinda guy. He doesn’t ask.

  I don’t tell.

  “That Dreamers Often Lie”

  I toss and turn most of the night. Thinking Zeppelin was asking me out on a date. Thinking maybe he might like me—a childish dream. That much is clear. But it’s no use explaining that to my heart. It’s like a sad puppy whose owner has yet to return home. Still it waits at the door. Tail wagging. Hopeful. My poor heart. It’s the shortest love story ever told. I’m sorry, little one.

  In the morning I awake to a text from Nigel: Rehearsal is canceled. See you tomorrow.

  I text back: Why?

  A moment later he replies: Damage control.

  Aunt Karla knocks on the bedroom door.

  “It’s open.” I stretch out my arms and lay my cell on the end table beside the bed.

  She peeks her head inside.

  “Rehearsal is canceled,” I say glumly.

  “I think I know why.” She pushes the door open. “Come downstairs. Breakfast Show with Sugar and Steve is about to welcome their featured guest. You don’t wanna miss it.”

  * * *

  I slide onto the couch beside Aunt Karla as she cranks up the volume on the TV. On the screen, the bright and cheery Breakfast Show set livens up the energy of the living room.

  “What’s the Breakfast Show got to do with rehearsal being canceled?”

  “Shh.” Aunt Karla shoulder bumps me. “Just watch. You’ll see.”

  I focus my attention on the screen.

  “Welcome back to the Breakfast Show with Sugar and Steve! It’s a fabulous morning and I’m your favorite fabulous host, Sugar Sanders.”

  “And I’m the host who gets really irritated every time she says that, because we both know it’s not true, Steve Evers.”

  “Just accept it, Steve,” Sugar sings, flipping long black hair with the signature Sugar Sanders gray streak in the front over her shoulder. “They like me more. Anyway. Exciting guest on the show today. We have R & B sensation, double platinum, Grammy Award winner Cinny with us. She is in this building, y’all.”

  I look at Aunt Karla. “They’re taking my advice about the video. This is so cool!”

  She smiles and we turn our attention back to the TV.

  Sugar turns to Steve. “You know I love me some Cinny, right?”

  “Who doesn’t love Cinny?” Steve replies. “My wife wanted to name our daughter Cinny, but I managed to talk her out of it. It would be like naming your kid Beyoncé. You can’t name your kid Beyoncé. That’s illegal in fifteen states!”

  “What about a portmanteau,” Sugar says. “Like Beyoncé and Cinny together. Beyoncinny.”

  “Oooh.” Steve nods. “Beyoncinny actually has a nice ring to it. Too bad our daughter’s already born.”

  The two TV hosts crack up.

  “Anyway...” Sugar smiles. “Cinny’s gonna talk about her role in Robert Christian Ruiz’s new musical, Roman and Jewel. Which is coming to Broadway this summer.”

  “And her hilarious new viral video, in which she purposely makes a fool of herself,” Steve adds.

  “All for the love of Broadway!” Sugar says.

  “All for the love of saving her career,” Aunt Karla murmurs with an eye roll.

  “Shhh.” I elbow Aunt Karla gently on her side.

  “So please welcome to the Breakfast Show stage...” Sugar claps her hands together “...the beautiful, talented, and fabulous Cinny!”

  Cinny steps into the studio wearing a sexy red-and-gold jumper with a halter top, giant gold hoop earrings, super high-heeled stiletto boots, and her hair curled in soft beach waves that hang down her back. She looks stunning. She hugs Sugar and Steve and takes a seat on a plush green couch across from the two cohosts.

  “Thank you so much for having me!” Cinny exclaims with her signature rasp. “I love the Breakfast Show. I literally watch you guys all the freakin’ time.”

  She seems so comfortable in front of the camera. Like she was born to do this.

  “Girl, you know we love you, too.” Sugar takes a sip from her giant red mug. “I am always playing your music in the car, and my kids are like, thinkin’ I’m supercool cuz I get at least one of the artists they like.” She sets down her mug and leans forward. “But spill the tea, cuz yesterday I wake up and I’m seein’ you fallin’ on your be-hind, pardon my French, and I text my girlfriend.” Sugar’s got a superstrong Brooklyn accent. “And I’m all, Cinny has lost her mind?”

  Cinny laughs.

  Aunt Karla and I exchange knowing smiles.

  “I haven’t lost my mind, I swear!” Cinny explains jovially. “We wanted to wake up the internet. Think we did a good job?”

  “You did a very good job,” Steve agrees. “I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again.”

  Cinny laughs, crossing her legs and laying her hands gently on her lap. “Serio
usly though, how many times have we seen a remake of Romeo and Juliet? Blah. So boring, right?”

  “You said it, honey.” Sugar takes another sip of her coffee. “I’m not arguin’ with you on that one. I think the original was written back when King Tut was alive.”

  “But Robbie’s stuff is different.” Cinny speaks with such passion. “It’s Shakespeare like you could never imagine. Shakespeare with style. With color. I fell so deeply in love with the music and the book. Reincarnation? Hello? That’s my jam. I wanted to do it, but only if we upped our game. Starting with the promo stuff. I was like y’all, we gotta let people know this ain’t your average retelling. In fact, this ain’t a retelling at all. This is a redo. We’re fixing all the mistakes from the world’s greatest literary tragedy.”

  “Love it!” Sugar coos. “Cuz I’m tellin’ you, it’s genius. Roman and Jewel is trending everywhere. Even my kids are asking me to take them to see the show, and I’m all, y’all, it ain’t even open yet. Stop badgering me!”

  “And what about Jerzie Jhames?” Steve asks. “Is she really your understudy—because she’s a phenom herself.”

  Aunt Karla squeezes my shoulder. “Oh my God! They just said my niece’s name on national TV!”

  They did say my name on national TV! I’m grinning so hard my cheeks are hurting.

  “Isn’t she amazing?” Sugar adds. “I haven’t seen natural talent like that for a few decades. She reminds me of a young Whitney Houston or Mariah Carey.”

  I might be the only one who’s noticing it, but Cinny’s hands are now balled into tight fists. She’s still smiling though.

  “So what’s the deal with her?” Sugar asks.

  Omigosh. They’re still talking about me.

  “Jerzie Jhames?” Cinny repeats and for a moment I wonder if she’s prepared anything to actually say about me. Did they go over this point with her?

  Sugar and Steve stare anxiously at Cinny, waiting for her to continue. I can feel the energy of millions of people watching all over the country doing the same thing.

  Cinny’s bottom lip quivers a bit. “Jerzie Jhames?” she says again.

  Aunt Karla and I exchange worried expressions.

  “She’s my best friend!” Cinny states excitedly.

  I stare wide-eyed at the screen. Say what?

  “When Robbie and I started chatting about the show,” Cinny says nonchalantly, back in her groove, “we knew there was a real possibility of me missing a show or two or even three or four due to my erratic schedule. So we decided my understudy had to be someone very special.”

  “I know that’s right,” Sugar says. “I come to see Cinny and you’re not there, I want my money back.”

  “Exactly my point! When I suggested my best friend, Jerzie...” Cinny pauses to smile, as if the mere mention of me makes her grin from ear to ear “...the producers were pessimistic at first, since she’s so young and so inexperienced.”

  Inexperienced my ass!

  “But...” Cinny pauses dramatically again “...I explained to them that she’s basically been under my wing for years. I taught her everything she knows.”

  No she did not. Like literally. She did not. My voice teacher is probably dying a thousand deaths right now.

  The screen goes black. “What just happened?” I turn to Aunt Karla who is holding up the remote.

  “Sorry, but I couldn’t stand another second of Pinocchi-ninny.” Aunt Karla shakes her head and tosses the remote onto the coffee table. “Cinny done lost her damn mind!”

  “Aunt Karla.” I place my hand on top of hers. “Listen. Tybalt killed Mercutio. You know that, right?”

  Aunt Karla stares at me for a few seconds before she says, “Jerzie? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “When Romeo spoke of love, Mercutio drew his sword. If he had listened, if he hadn’t been so angry, things coulda turned out differently.” Aunt Karla’s still looking at me like she’s trying to make sense of the words coming out of my mouth. I continue anyway. “I’ll say to you the same thing Romeo said to Mercutio. ‘Gentle Aunt Karla. Put away your sword.’”

  Aunt Karla holds up her cell. “All I have is my cell.”

  “Your figurative sword.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “It was a little lie is all.”

  “Jerzie.” She cocks her head to one side. “Little?”

  “Okay, fine. It was a medium-size lie.” I tug on my mop of curls. Since I forgot to twist my hair last night, I’m gonna spend the better part of today working hard to de-frizzify it. “But tell me this. What guided Romeo’s actions after Mercutio died?”

  “Jerzie? Is this a pop quiz? Cuz I graduated from college twenty-two years ago and I’m not in the mood.”

  “Exactly. Rage. So today, I make a vow of peace.” I stand and turn to face Aunt Karla. “I’m putting away my figurative sword and from now on making only sensible choices.”

  “Sensible at sixteen?” Aunt Karla stands and moves into the kitchen. “Fantastic. Here’s the first sensible thing you can do. Be quiet.” She turns her full attention to making a fresh pot of coffee. “And please stop talking to me about Shakespeare.”

  “Out of His Favor, Where I Am in Love...”

  The next day, as I follow Aunt Karla through the doors of Forty-Second Street Studios, I’m staring at my Instagram account, mesmerized by the growing number of followers since Cinny announced our fake best friendship. If the viral video put me on the map, Cinny has officially put me in the limelight. I’ve gone from a little over a hundred thousand followers to just under a million. In one day. I’m also watching the internet forgive her. The mob has lowered its clubs and retreated. And everybody’s all best friends again.

  Peter_PiperPickedYourMom: All you haters who doubted Queen Cinny can kick rocks and DIE. Cinny is the queen. Always will be.

  WhoopThereitIS: Cinny and Jerzie Jhames are best friends? How cuuuute. I told y’all that video was fake. #Cinny4Eva

  AbeStunner: Cinny made herself a laughing stock for Broadway? Wow. #CinnyTheSavior

  BoppityBecky: Cinny is an Earth angel. Loved her on the Breakfast Show. #CinnyTheSavior

  Yep. Cinny the savior is trending on Twitter.

  “Yay, it’s She-Ra and her sidekick, the Puff Princess of Power. You’re both baaaack.”

  I look up from my phone to see Nigel and Rashmi approaching. And do my eyes deceive me? Nigel has shaved? Gotten a haircut? Not wearing his signature dirty baseball cap? Have I stepped into an alternate universe?

  “What happened to you?” I ask. “Were you a contestant on Queer Eye last night?”

  “Ha. Good one. You like?” It’s impossible to ignore the fact that he’s looking at Aunt Karla when he asks this.

  It’s also impossible to ignore the fact that Aunt Karla is gazing at Nigel sorta dumbstruck. The two stand there, staring at each other.

  “Well, I like the new look,” I say. “What do you think, Rashmi?”

  Rashmi runs a hand through her long black hair. “I think he looks dashing. But perhaps it doesn’t matter what either of us thinks.” She takes my bag, gently guiding me toward the elevator, leaving Nigel and Aunt Karla chatting near the entrance, his hazel eyes shining as bright as I’ve ever seen them.

  “Cinny’s not here yet,” Rashmi says as we step onto the elevator. “Apparently she’s appearing on another morning show.” She shakes her head. “Sorry. I forgot you two are best friends. You probably already know that.”

  My morning latte turns sour in my stomach. Will everyone now think I didn’t earn my spot here? That I’m just Cinny’s bestie?

  A hand suddenly reaches through the closing doors, tripping the sensor so the doors slide back open.

  “Sorry about that.” Nigel rushes inside, grinning from ear to ear as the doors slide shut again.

  “Where’s yo
ur girlfriend?” I tease.

  “She’s not my girlfriend, silly New Jerzie.” The elevator jerks into motion and he steps back into production-assistant mode. “Most of the cast is in 7A getting ready to run the opening number, so I’ll take you there. Right after, we’re gonna run ‘Déjà Vu,’ which is Cinny and Zepp. She should be back by then. If not, you can hang out with Rashmi in the classroom.”

  “We can play Uno,” Rashmi says excitedly.

  “Or Oregon Trail,” I reply. “It’s a way better game.”

  Rashmi’s brow furrows. “Isn’t that the game where people get dysentery and drown and stuff?”

  Nigel’s walkie crackles loudly. He twists the knob to turn down the volume. “Oh, by the way. Cell phones are now banned in all rehearsal rooms.”

  “Banned?” Rashmi’s brow furrows. “Why?”

  “You-Know-Who. That’s why.” Nigel runs a hand over his perfectly styled, tapered haircut. I swear he looks like he’s wearing a James Bond costume.

  * * *

  Stepping back into the rehearsal space with Nigel at my heels, my precious cell phone stowed away in the bottom of a bucket at the door, my heart is beating against the inside of my chest like it’s desperate to get my attention. I sigh. Here I am, cast in a Broadway show (sort of), new best friends with one of the biggest celebrities in the world (well...fake best friends), a million new followers on Instagram, and all my heart cares about is the cute boy in the room. The one with the girlfriend and the harem of girls after him. This isn’t sensible.

  I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to face Damon.

  “Hey, Barbie Doll.” He’s barefoot and wears loose-fitting jeans and a shirt that says Stop Reading My Shirt. His brown eyes are narrowed, eyeing me through his shiny lenses. “What happened to you the other night? You disappeared.”