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He waved it off. “Of course. Just wanted to check before I headed out. Don’t forget we have the roof if you want someplace private to work. It makes for a great practice stage.”
He began to leave, but then I remembered what Andy had told me yesterday.
“Wait,” I said. He turned around. “You didn’t have to give up your pay yesterday.”
Dorian laughed nervously. “What do you mean? I went to Brooklyn and picked up both of our…” He trailed off when he realized I knew the truth.
I ducked into my room and came out with the crisp $100 bill. “It was a nice gesture, but I’m not a charity case.”
“I just felt bad. You ran off in such a hurry because of what I’d done…”
“You didn’t do anything,” I interrupted. “At least, not alone. I kissed you too.”
“Still. It seemed unfair that I got paid and you didn’t. We both did the same amount of work: very little.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
When I stuck the money out, Dorian still refused to take it. “Let’s split it. $50 each,” he said.
“Do you have change?”
He flashed a sheepish smile. “Buy me lunch or something and we’ll call it even.”
“Yeah, alright.”
He lingered in the hall a moment, then awkwardly said goodbye. I listened to his footsteps move down the stairs, then I fell into my bed and groaned into my pillows. Now things were even more uncomfortable between us.
I should have let his harmless gesture slide.
Feeling even more idiotic than before, I got ready to spend the day practicing.
42
Nadia
I changed into yoga pants and a long-sleeved Underarmor shirt. It was chilly outside, but that should keep me warm enough once I was moving around. I climbed out my window and then up the rusty fire escape to the roof. Even in the daytime, the view of the city from here was breathtaking. I stood there and stared for at least a full minute before my awe diminished to a manageable degree.
Dorian was right: the roof did make for a great practice stage. The building footprint of the townhouse was long and slender, just like the stage. It was even the same rough size. The only thing keeping it from being perfect was the boxy air conditioning unit on stage left, but I could work around that. This was much better than picturing my steps in my head while sitting on the edge of my bed.
I plugged in my headphones, selected the right song from The Proposition soundtrack on my phone that had been given to the cast, and got to work.
I went over More Than Money, the first song for tonight’s rehearsal, three times. My track as the backup dancer, which didn’t have a lot of movement and had zero lines, but I still wanted to nail them. Then I did the next song for tonight, Through the Window, several times through; it was more complicated and with a longer track for the backup dancers. I was moving around the stage almost the entire time, which was why More Than Money had so little movement: as a breather before the tough song. I was sweating through my clothes after 30 minutes on that song.
Then, for good measure, I decided to do the entire show up to that point. All 14 songs, starting from the beginning and working my way through the ones we would practice tonight. It was my own little dress rehearsal, and it was a wakeup call: I was tired by the end. I needed to find a way to squeeze in some time on the treadmill or bicycle to get my cardio up before the show in two weeks.
Now that I don’t commute for several hours a day, I can find the time to exercise.
I sat on the edge of the roof and took a breather, then glanced at my watch. I still had a lot of time left.
So I took a break to eat lunch and drink some water, then decided to work on Tatiana’s parts. It was better practice since it involved both movement and singing, not to mention more fun. Outside with the sounds of the city all around me, I was able to sing at a moderate volume without feeling like everyone could hear me. Even though there were a million people who could look down on the roof of the upper east side townhouse, it felt like I had some privacy.
With my own little make-believe stage, I went through every single one of Tatiana’s songs once (with breaks in between to catch my breath), then did tonight’s two songs multiple times. A small part of me hoped that someone would leak the sandbag trap and note to Tatiana, and she would refuse to rehearse tonight, giving me a chance to shine in front of the journalist. I wanted to be ready to step in and crush the songs—especially the solo in More Than Money—if that happened.
So many things were up in the air in my life. Fear of the saboteur, even though he wasn’t targeting me specifically. Excitement at kicking my relationships with Andy and Ryan up a notch last night. Concern about ruining my friendship with Dorian. And the impending dinner with Braden’s parents, and what it might mean for my relationship with him.
Throwing myself into my work on the roof helped distract me from it all. When the music played in my ears and I moved around the roof, sliding and swirling and leaping like I was weightless, everything else in the world dimmed to nothing. They were minor things.
The stage was all that mattered.
