"Who are they bringing in?" Stacey asked quietly.
"Some TV actress. I think her last name is Easter or Eastman," Bill said shrugging his shoulders.
"Yolanda Eastman?" Stacey asked rolling her eyes.
"Yeah. That's it," Bill confirmed.
Stacey let out a quiet groan. It wasn't even fair to call the woman an actress. Yolanda had never studied theatre. Her claim to fame was half a season on a reality television show where she didn't get the guy but -- because of her surgical enhancements and store-bought tresses -- won the hearts of lonely couch potatoes across the country.
"She'll put butts in seats," Stacey said shaking her head.
She knew the bottom line was what was important to most producers. To hell with hiring people who'd trained for years and dedicated their lives to their craft. All the producers wanted to do was sell tickets. The whole thing made Stacey's blood boil.
"Sorry to upset you," Bill said softly. "But look on the bright side. Maybe the show will become a hit and move on to Broadway."
Stacey looked over the railing at the top of her castmate's heads. From her vantage point, they looked like chess pieces gliding across the stage and that's just how she felt -- like a pawn. A little pawn on a big chessboard always waiting to be moved out of the background and into the middle of the game.
"Hey Stacey," the assistant stage manager called out as Stacey was about to leave the building after the show. "Mack says you sounded a little pitchy today so you better make sure to get some vocal rest tomorrow."
"Thanks, Jordan," Stacey whispered -- as if she was already heeding the note. She wrapped her scarf snuggly around her neck -- in spite of the heat she was about to encounter outside -- to emphasize her willingness to take care of her throat.
"Can you believe that crap?" Stacey said a block from the theatre where she was finally able to give her frustrations full voice. "I wasn't pitchy! And even if I was I certainly sound better than Yolanda Eastman ever will!"
As she walked down the street practically yelling, no one paid much attention to her ramblings. To most passersby, she was just another New York resident talking to herself.
As she got close to her apartment Stacey couldn't help but think of Tony. After a day like this, she'd normally head straight for his door, making a beeline to his kitchen and the vanilla swiss almond ice cream that was always in his freezer. She'd ignore thoughts of the congested consequences she'd have to pay for eating dairy during the run of a show. The cool, creamy feeling-soother would have been worth it. But that wasn't going to happen today, Stacey thought as she swung the patio gate open.
She walked over to the mailboxes to check the mail she was too tired to think about when she got home last night. There was nothing but bills of course -- which made Stacey even sadder. She sighed and glance toward Tony's window. Without the blackout curtains that were now covering her upstairs windows, she could see straight into Tony's apartment. What she saw momentarily pushed thoughts of Tony, ice cream and vocal critiques completely out of her mind.
Stacey gazed at the petite brunette -- dressed in some barely-there undergarments -- gyrating on top of a baby grand piano. My new neighbor, Stacey thought with a combination of annoyance and attraction. The woman's voice seeped through the window pane. She definitely wasn't a singer but she had a decent high kick. Was she a burlesque performer? Stacey watched as the woman stopped her routine and burst into a fit of giggles.
Well, at least someone's happy tonight, Stacey thought as she turned away and went upstairs.
The next morning a piercing noise jolted Stacey out of a sound sleep.
"What the???" Stacey stammered before remembering she was supposed to be on vocal rest.
With her eyes still closed, she patted the top of her bed until her fingers grazed her iPad. She knew she'd probably fallen asleep on the movie she was watching last night. Could the device have somehow awakened itself from its digital slumber and started streaming a scene from an apocalyptic horror movie?
When Stacey felt the smooth, cool surface of the device she opened her eyes but the room was still pitch dark and the booming sound was still causing her heart to race.
What is that noise, she questioned -- this time silently?
She reached to the other side of the bed and plucked her cell phone from her nightstand. When she tapped the screen the numbers beaming back at her made her scowl. 10:27 am. Through the fog in her brain, she wondered who in the world could be making this much noise before noon?
For a moment in her delirium, Stacey thought of Tony. What in the world is he doing down there, she asked herself? Then she remembered. Tony was gone and the only person downstairs now was the woman she'd seen doing a can-can dance on top of her piano last night.
Stacey stumbled out of bed -- reaching for her workout sweats in the darkness provided by Tony's blackout curtains. Before she walked out the door she grabbed a stack of post-it notes and a pen from her desk in the corner. Stacey walked to the back door of her apartment and stumbled down the stairs she usually use to visit her absent friend.
Even after a vigorous knock on the rear door, the horrendous sound coming from the front of the apartment didn't stop. Unwilling to exert the effort it would take to walk down the hall, Stacey chose to knock again -- louder. The noise didn't stop but the door finally swung open.
"Hi. May I help you?" the woman standing in front of her said.
Stacey closed her eyes and took a deep breath to prevent herself from screaming. Then she raised the stack of post-its so she could write on one. When she finished writing she tore the note from the pad and held it out for the woman to see.
"It's 10:40!" the woman read out loud. She lifted her head and looked at Stacey with a blank stare.
Stacey could feel her nostrils beginning to flare as she scribbled another note and handed it to her new neighbor.
"Monday rule. No noise until 2!" the woman read. "I'm sorry. I don't know anything about a noise restriction on Mondays," she said defensively. "And why are you writing on post-it notes?" she asked without masking the irritation in her voice.
When Stacey didn't answer immediately the woman's hand flew to her mouth and her cheeks turned red.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Are you deaf?"
She made some strange motion with her hand as if she was trying to communicate in sign language. Stacey rolled her eyes and shook her head. Of course, I can speak, she thought as she began writing again.
"What's your phone number?" the woman read. Her brows furrowed as she stared at Stacey. "May I ask, who are you and why on earth I should give you my phone number when you're out here slinging post-it notes at me like a crazy person?"
Chapter 4
Megan had had just about enough of this. She could understand if it was 8 in the morning but it was almost 11! Who in the world needed quiet at this hour? When she scheduled the piano tuner's appointment she thought 10 am was more than reasonable since most people had to be at work by then. But obviously, that wasn't the case for the woman standing at her bedroom door flinging post-its at her.
The woman just stood there until finally Megan gave up, took the pen and scribbled her phone number onto the pink square. She watched as the woman pulled out her cell phone and tapped the screen with her thumbs. A moment later Megan heard a ping sound from inside her apartment.
"Just a minute," she said as she stepped away from the door to get her phone.
After she walked away, she wondered if she should have closed and locked the door just in case the crazy woman had any thoughts of following her inside. Megan quickly grabbed her phone off the kitchen counter and tapped the text icon as she walked back to her bedroom. Several texts came through in rapid succession.
My name is Stacey Taylor.
I'm your upstairs neighbor.
I'm an actress and today is my ONLY day off.
Which is why I'm on vocal rest.
Tony and I have an agreement not to make any noise
Until after
2 pm on Mondays.
Didn't he give you the rules?
Megan stared at the phone and then at the woman standing in her doorway with her hands on her hips.
"Look, Stacey. I didn't sublet this place from Tony. My lease agreement is with the landlord and he didn't tell me anything about any noise restrictions. If he had I wouldn't have rented it for the next three months. I'm really sorry if the noise woke you up but my piano has to be tuned today so I can start rehearsing for a very important audition. Plus, my piano is in the front room. I'm surprised that you can even hear it in your bedroom." Megan pointed to the ceiling above where they stood.
More flying thumbs later another text popped up on Megan's phone.
I sleep in the front room of my apartment.
So the sun doesn't wake me up in the morning.
Megan tried to make sense of the barrage of texts but grew frustrated with the effort. All she wanted to do was close the door and go check on her piano but the woman -- Stacey -- just stood there staring at her until she finally let out an exasperated sigh, turned and stormed away.
Megan could hear Stacey's footsteps stomping back up the stairs followed by a door slam. She closed her door grateful that the exchange was over. Sure, she was sorry that the woman was upset but what was she supposed to do about it? Megan wasn't going to be held hostage being quiet as a mouse in her own apartment. She had her practice schedule all lined out. She'd start each morning at nine. Play until 12 and then have lunch. After lunch, she'd practice for another three hours and then go to the gym for her workout. It was a rigorous schedule but one that was necessary if she was going to be ready for her audition next month. Megan hoped her noise adverse neighbor wasn't going to cause her any problems.
"Hello? Miss?" a voice called from the front of her apartment.
Megan had been so distracted by her neighbor that she'd almost forgotten about the piano tuner. She scurried down the hall to where the man was standing with his leather bag of tuning instruments already packed.
"Here's my card," he said. "Call me if you need me to come back and do a touch-up. With all this humidity she might need it in a month or so."
Megan grimaced at the thought of the tuner having to come back again. At $120 a pop, she'd only budgeted to have the piano tuned once this summer.
"Okay. Thank you," she said as she escorted the man out the front door.
Once he was gone the apartment fell silent again but Megan couldn't help feeling like she wasn't really alone. She looked up at her ceiling wondering if her upstairs neighbor had gone back to sleep. Megan listened to see if she could hear any noise coming from above but there wasn't a sound.
She walked over and slid onto the piano bench. She'd been waiting or this moment since yesterday. Megan lifted her hands to the piano keys and was just about to play a chord when her cell phone pinged. She pulled it out of her back pocket and tapped the text icon.
And by the way,
You might want to invest in some curtains.
People walking by can't see you from the street
But anyone checking the mail gets a full view into your apartment!
Megan felt her face turn crimson as she realized her neighbor must have seen her last night -- dancing around in her underwear! She jumped off the piano bench and ducked into the corner as if her neighbor was still watching her from the window. Now she'd never be able to look the woman in the eye again, Megan thought covering her face.
She tipped out of her hiding place and scooped her cell phone off of the piano where she'd left it. 11:15. It was still early enough to get some practice in but she couldn't risk doing anything that might cause her neighbor to come back downstairs. I'll go to the grocery store, Megan decided instead knowing her refrigerator was still bare. And maybe she'd find some temporary curtains at one of the Everything's 99¢ stores that seemed to populate almost every New York corner.
***
"And that was the welcoming committee that greeted me on the first day in my New York apartment," Megan giggled over lunch with Kim two weeks later.
She told her sister all about the post-it notes and the demand for Monday morning silence but she'd purposefully left out the part about the woman seeing her through the window in a state of undress.
"Wow," Kim said as she stabbed at the mound of food she'd ordered foregoing her usual salad because she was eating for two. "All I know is you'd better watch out. I've heard some of those neighbor squabbles can get pretty vicious. I read something in the Post about one neighbor trying to poison the people in her building because she thought they killed her cat."
Megan grimaced at the thought but her sister just took another sip of iced tea and kept attacking her meal.
"I'm not worried about it," Megan said mostly to reassure her sister. "It really isn't a big deal to delay my practice time one day a week -- if it will keep the peace."
If you say so," Kim replied. "But remember if things get weird, you have a safe place to stay whenever you need it."
Megan thanked her sister again but she was pretty sure Stacey wasn't the violent type. A little rude -- but not violent.
By the time they finished their lunch, it was almost 1:30 and Megan was eager to get back to her apartment and clock a few unplanned practice hours.
"I'd better get going too," Kim explained. "Before my feet do their mid-day expansion."
Megan smiled at her sister who had that glow everyone talked about pregnant women having -- in spite of her slightly swollen feet. Kim paid for lunch and the two women walked outside to wait for Kim's car service car to arrive. As they were standing in front of the building, Megan noticed a poster stapled to the lamp post nearby advertising a production titled Flying With Friends.
"Oh, that's one of those Off Off-Broadway shows," Kim said when she saw her sister reading the flier. There was more than a little disdain in her tone. "If you want to go see some real theatre I can get us tickets for something good like Hamilton or The Prom."
Megan had to admit the thought of seeing Hamilton was exciting and she knew she couldn't afford a ticket on her own. And of course, she wanted to see the new musical about the two lesbian high schoolers going to the prom together. But in spite of her interest in both of those shows, it was the show advertised on the poster in front of her that had really piqued her interest. She'd seen this particular flier before.
A lot of the musicians and actors in her neighborhood advertised their gigs in the window of the bodega around the corner from Megan's apartment. That's where she'd first seen it. But below the poster in the bodega, there'd been a black and white headshot of a face Megan definitely recognized. She didn't want to tell Kim, but Megan was sure her new neighbor was in this show.
"Maybe we can catch something on Broadway the next time you come into the city," Megan said distracting her sister's attention from the poster.
"Sounds like a plan," Kim said cheerfully. "I want to get in as much fun as I can before my walk turns completely into a waddle." She stroked her protruding stomach gently.
Megan smiled, realizing in just a few more months her big sister would actually be a mother. She'll be good at it, Megan thought. After all, she'd been mothering Megan most of her life.
Oh. Here's my car," Kim said as a large black SUV pulled up to the curb. "Are you sure you don't want a ride to the train station?"
"No, I need to walk off some of that pasta I ate," Megan said patting her full stomach.
She gave Kim a quick hug and then watched the car until it disappeared from sight. Once free from her sister's prying eyes, Megan turned back to the poster and typed the theatre's website address into her phone. There was a 2 pm matinee with an affordable ticket price and according to GPS, the theatre was only a few blocks away. If Megan hurried she'd just get there in time. With a few swipes on her phone, she purchased a ticket and headed to the theatre.
Christmas All Around Us ; The Perfect Time for Love ; Playing for Keeps Page 20
