Samantha Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 21)

by Faleena Hopkins

  We’re taking it slow. He hasn’t made a move after I corrected him on opening night. We’ve kissed and held hands, took our breaks together, gone home to pass out from exhaustion after each show. Talked on the phone every night before our heads hit the pillow.

  I’m ready for more.

  I think.

  Hmm, I’m still not sure.

  There’s something blocking me. The timing isn’t right. What’s the rush?

  Maybe I’m just nervous.

  “We open the house in twenty minutes.” Galloway waves us away as she heads to Rogess.

  Asher approaches me and mutters under his breath, “Better start sucking up.” He walks toward his dressing room, but I pause to wait for Logan. Asher asks, “You coming?”

  “No, you go on ahead.”

  He stares at me a beat and walks away, raking his hair back like he has nothing to worry about.

  Logan’s makeup is already on and he seems prepared, which is why I thought he has a moment to talk. “Have you been taking vocal lessons?” I ask, head tilted by curiosity.

  He shrugs, “Yeah.”

  “I noticed.”

  He’d been fidgeting like something is on his mind, but now his gaze locks onto me, cobalt eyes sharp. “It’s some girl I found online, teaching lessons. We do video chats. She listens, gives me notes. It changed my breathing. Turns out I wasn’t singing from my diaphragm. I never had lessons before.”

  One of our lighting technicians runs by us so we step aside as I say, “You have a really beautiful voice. I guess your parents never thought to put you in a singing class, huh?”

  “Guess not. You really think I sound good?”

  My smile broadens. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, you know that. You’re taking this seriously, aren’t you? It’s finally happening for us.”

  “There’s nothing more serious than a lifelong dream, Samantha.” He staring at me so intensely I can’t look away.

  Galloway whisper-yells. “The house is open!”

  Logan turns first. It feels as if a spell is broken. I blink at him as he vanishes behind one of the many black curtains.

  I head opposite, disappointment at my back.

  During a second encore tonight, Asher takes my hand like he did after the first performance, and raises it high. We bow together. The audience goes nuts, and I start laughing. He is grinning, so handsome with the spotlights shimmering in his eyes. I glance over to Logan on the other side of me, and I can’t stop smiling.

  As the curtains close I ask him, “Did you see me almost fall when we were standing in front of the church in the first act?”

  Logan shakes his head, eyes losing their shine. “I didn't notice.”

  As he leaves, I call after him, “Oh good, it wasn’t obvious then.”

  Asher touches the small of my back. “Why are you asking if he noticed? What about if I noticed?”

  I cut a glance to see if he’s joking and discover a smirk and a twinkle there. “Oh shut up,” I laugh. “As if you could ever be insecure.”

  He chuckles and gives me a kiss that’s torn apart by Galloway appearing in the shadows behind him. I pause and touch his chest to tell him we’re being watched.

  “Asher, come here.”

  He gives my nose a peck. “Wait for me?”

  I smile, “Okay.”

  She says, “Samantha, don’t go too far.”

  I stop walking, nod, pick at my nails, and pretend not to try and decipher what they’re talking about. It looks serious. Is she against our dating? Okay, he’s smiling. That’s a good sign. Asher heads to his dressing room and throws me a wink.

  Suspecting what this might be about, my ribs feel like they shrank. Galloway straightens her spine as she glides over, never breaking the stare. “When I was a girl, and by a girl I mean your age, I had already danced in Moscow, London, Melbourne, Paris, and Frankfurt. Ever been out of Georgia, Samantha?”

  “No, Ms. Galloway. Well, once to Myrtle Beach, but…”

  A sly smile tugs. “The producer has chosen you to continue on with our production.”

  “Are you serious,” I whisper.

  “I never joke about dancing.”

  Jumping up and down, I lose my mind. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much! Please tell him I said thank you so much! This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

  Galloway laughs, albeit briefly. “That is the kind of reaction I would expect from news such as this. Most conceal it.” She clasps her hands on my shoulders. “It’s nice to see someone appreciative of an opportunity such as this.”

  “Is Logan going?”

  “I haven’t talked to him yet so I cannot divulge that answer.” Touching my hair, she adds, “Congratulations. You have earned it.”

  I call after her as she walks away, “Thank you Ms. Galloway!”

  Pausing, she turns around with an afterthought that turns out to be the best advice she can give. “When you finally got it together the day of your audition, I wanted to give you the role. It was the fact that you hadn’t heard the music play that made you lose it. Do you understand?” With her eyes narrowing she further explains, “If you screw up on Broadway, consider your career over. They don’t give second chances. You nail it the first time, you get hired again and that is your second chance. The same with your third, and your fourth. You might, after that point, make a mistake, drop the ball, not show up on time, or any other mediocre quality that people seem to think is okay. But only after you have proved yourself to a point where your error is an anomaly will they again gamble everything they have on you.”

  “I understand.”

  Satisfied, she disappears.

  That was one of those moments where time slows down and you realize you’re hearing something that you need to pay special attention to. It was like someone turned on the recorder so that I wouldn’t forget a single word. She was warning me out of experience, her wisdom so deep, even cynical, that she had to share with me because she thought I wasn’t prepared for a life that cutthroat. My footsteps are slow as I walk to my dressing room.

  They don’t give second chances.

  As I pass Logan’s dressing room, the door is open and neither he nor Alfredo are inside. The room is dark and I almost walk in, though I don’t know why. There’s nothing for me here.

  Shrugging it off, I continue down the dark hall and rap on Asher’s door. “I’ll be ready in ten.”

  He calls back, “I’ll pick you up at your dressing room.”

  “Like literally pick me up? Off the ground?”

  He doesn’t seem to get my humor as he replies, “I’m on the phone.”

  “Oh, sorry!”

  My smile grows the closer I get to my dressing room. Broadway. The big city. The one they say never sleeps. If I can make it there, I have made it. Period. And to be dancing as the lead female in a hit musical when I arrive! Wow.

  I smile to my reflection, sagging roses in a vase to my right as I whisper, “It’s a dream come true.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  LOGAN

  A text comes through as I climb into my Jeep. I don’t know why at first I think it might be Samantha. Haven’t heard from her in days. Except when I briefly talk to her at the theater. Not that I’ve been welcoming any kind of contact. It’s been fucking difficult to be as cold to her as I’ve been, but I have to protect myself. Every time I see him touching her crushes me a little bit more. I never thought I was the jaded type, but now I realize how people become that.

  “Hey Ms. Galloway, got your text and thought I’d call you back.”

  “Are you nearby, Logan?”

  “I’m in the parking lot still.”

  “Can you come back up? I have something I want to say to you.”

  Frowning, I hop out and pocket my key fob. “On my way.”

  I hope I don’t run into Samantha, but there’s no way they’ll be on the same elevator or even the same floor. That would be too fucked up.

  I’m
safe.

  Subterranean parking garages, such as this one, have a distinct smell. Even with the clean-energy air of our times, there’s a staleness to it from lack of wind and the depth of how far it goes down. I clear my throat as I head for the two elevators that lead to the biggest theater in Atlanta. It needs a paint job down here. The scuffs aren’t too bad, but it doesn’t have the shine that the lobby, theater, and courtyard have.

  Why am I even thinking about this stuff right now? Oh right. Anything to distract me from that fucking guy.

  The elevator doors open revealing Samantha and Asher, pressed together, talking about something that evaporates as they see me. She smiles with zero awareness that when she holds his hand she holds a knife in my heart, too. “Logan, you’re still here!”

  I mutter, “Galloway called me back up to the theater.” The lovebirds exchange a look that makes me ask, “What?”

  Sam is bursting with news. She’s not sure if she should tell me, but she just can’t help herself. “I’m going to Broadway, Logan! She’s probably going to tell you that you’re coming too!”

  I ask, “You coming?” and Asher’s smile flickers.

  “Of course, I’m going. That’s why I’m down here. What makes you think I wouldn’t go?”

  Samantha interjects, “Logan wasn’t meaning anything by that. It was just a question.”

  Asher is clocking me. “Sure it was.” He pushes the button for the elevator, which was waiting without anyone having called it away yet. The doors swish open and he guides the girl who was supposed to be my future bride, away.

  I grit my teeth.

  She calls after me, “Tell me what she says!” When I don’t respond, Samantha insists, “Logan, text me!”

  “I will.”

  Hope I don’t get this promotion. I used to want this so badly, and part of me still does, but it’s tainted now. Is this the price I have to pay? Have I been just deluding myself this entire time by loving somebody who could never love me back? I was fine just being her friend because I was around her all the time, a constant part of her life. I was happy.

  I never had to endure some other guy kissing her.

  I can’t think of anything past that without having bile rise to the back of my throat. No way I can stomach the idea that they’ve had sex. She seems the same, not that it would show. Would it? I’m making myself nuts. Stop.

  The theater is echo-quiet save for two technicians. One shouts to the other, “The blue gel didn’t come on after the second act,” his voice ricocheting off an empty auditorium.

  “Must have burnt out.”

  Burnt out. The curse of any performer after years of striving and not getting exactly where you want to be. I heard of this phenomena, but I’ve never been it. I’m at the beginning. Whatever Galloway says in there could put me on the path either up or down. Up might even be down it means I have to… Stop thinking like this. You don’t even know what she’s going to say.

  Show up and shut up.

  Maybe she will set you free.

  That’s what you want, isn’t it?

  I rap on the office door and open it as she calls, “Come in.”

  She slides her glasses off and holds them in her hand as she rests a graceful wrist on the desk to her left. Dancer-legs that haven’t lost their shape cross in a simple black dress meant for you to look at her face, instead, and take her seriously. “I’ve been watching you.”

  Taking a seat, I lean forward on my elbows, concentrating on her. “Is that a good thing?”

  “I have a question I hope you don’t mind my asking.” She pauses, pushing the glasses away with one finger before she meets my eyes again. “It’s a little personal. You can tell me no.”

  A smirk tugs. “I’d like to know the question first.”

  “Don’t get too excited. I’m not coming on to you.”

  Leaning back, I chuckle, “Got it. Well if it makes you feel good, my answer might not have been no.”

  “Even if the entire time you and I were having wild passionate sex, you would’ve been thinking of Samantha?”

  Glancing away from her piercing stare, I mutter, “Oh, so that’s the question you were going to ask.”

  “It’s none of my business, except for it is. I want you to go to Broadway with us. In fact, I want you to understudy for the role of Donovan, but I don’t want what happened with Marion to happen again.”

  My eyebrows scrunch. “What do you mean?”

  “If you are to play a performance opposite Samantha once or twice a month as understudy, I wouldn’t want you to accidentally drop her.”

  My chest explodes with violence as I stand up and bark, “I would never hurt her! How could you even say something like that to me? How could you say that to anyone?” The gravity sinks in. “Asher dropped Marion on purpose?”

  Ms. Galloway picks up her glasses and taps them on the table. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting into, Logan. When they say this business is cutthroat, they are just shy of meaning it literally. And I wouldn’t be surprised if in the good old days when theater actors were the poorest people around, traveling from city to city, that there weren’t a few actual throats cut in order to rise in ranks. I can’t prove that Asher did anything wrong. I looked away just before Marion fell. And I’ll never forget that, nor forgive myself for it. But I know that he didn’t like her very much. And I’ve seen worse.” Holding my stare she says, “I had a bunion removed on my foot where they found tiny bits of glass.”

  “Glass? I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve been locked in the bathroom so I missed my cue and lost the part. They put glass in my pointe shoes because I was the lead. I had callous upon callous upon callous and couldn’t feel it, but the glass dug under my skin until it became bunions and I needed surgery. They found it in the X-ray.” She sighs and repeats, “I have seen worse.”

  “You’re suspecting that, but you’re still sending him with the production?” I demand.

  “Stuart wants him in the role. He has a huge following. He put butts in the chairs.”

  Disgusted, I go to leave.

  Galloway calls after me, voice sober. “Logan Clark!” I pause. “What are you going to do? Stay here your whole life auditioning for roles that have been few? I’ve noticed you’ve stepped it up since we opened. That’s because you’re feeling intensely competitive with him and it’s working. But I have to tell you something. You’re a better dancer than he is. If you stick with this, you can be a bigger star than you ever dreamed possible.” I let go of the handle and turn around. She stands up and approaches me. “Think of every country you’ve ever wanted to go. The trips are paid for. You’re performing in front of people who adore you. You can have any girl you want. Or any guy. People will give you gifts. You have a family in the theater. One like you never experienced in real life. There will be adventures that I can’t describe to you, the kind of excitement that seeps into your bones. There were adventures in my past that just by my thinking about them my adrenaline sparks and I’m there again. I will always have that.”

  Heavy from the choice, I glare at her. “Why did you leave it behind if it was so wonderful?”

  “It left me behind. The roles went to younger dancers. Time isn’t kind to people like us. We have to take our shot when it’s given.”

  “Ms. Galloway,” I begin.

  She cuts me off, “Whatever your feelings are for Samantha, don’t let one person distract you from a future so amazing, millions dream of living it. Here it is just waiting for you to say, yes.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  My hand is firm as I turn the knob and leave her staring after me.

  This is my decision to make.

  I have somebody I need to talk to.

  Chapter Eighteen

  SAMANTHA

  L exi wasn’t home, and she’s not answering her phone, so I’ve driven over to talk to Mom and Dad at his studio. Framed platinum records line the path to his second home behind a
soundboard. Beside him, cut into the wall, is a glass case, where the old one he worked behind when he first met Mom rests on display. Technology has advanced, but he likes the reminder of where it all started. He has a thing for nostalgia. Dad has always been a huge romantic.

  My cousin Gabriel walks out of the sound booth, surprising me with a big hug. “Samantha, how is your play going?”

  “Gabriel! I didn’t know you were here. And it’s called a musical.”

  He winks at me, “What I do is music.”

  My hands crash onto my hips. “Oh, so you’re gonna play it like that, are you?”

  “Since you won’t dance at my concerts, you think I’d go easy on you? Have you met me?”

  “Hip-hop is not my strong suit. I keep telling you that! How many times do I have to keep telling you that?”

  “You’re better than most of the dancers I’ve got on the payroll. Don’t tell them I said it.” He waves to Mom and Dad. “I’ll catch you guys later. Oh, Uncle Jason, I want to ditch the third track for Halo’s Eve.”

  “No!”

  “We’ll talk later.”

  “I’m not budging on this, Gabriel!” Dad shouts.

  Mom pats the couch next to her. “Don’t let him get a rise out of you. If he had his way he’d steal you from us and we’d be down another child.”

  My smile falters as I sit with her while Gabriel smirks, “For a good cause!”

  Dad shouts, “Yeah, yours! Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, ya selfish bastard.”

  Gabriel’s laughter disappears as the lock clicks. Everything is soundproofed.

  Mom mutters, “Don't call your nephew a bastard, Jason.”

  “You always do.”

  “But I’m me.”

  As they banter, I’m silently wondering how I could have forgotten that this might not be good news. I’ve been so caught up in the glitz, it never occurred to me what happened when we all had dinner with Caden right before he moved to Chicago. It was so painful, especially for Mom and Dad. She hasn’t been the same. Sadness is in the back of her eyes even when she smiles. Only big events like Isabella being born, and my opening night, have taken it away, temporarily. “What is it you wanted to tell us?” Mom asks as she moves a velvet cushion behind her back for better support.