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“Speaking of support,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “I’ll be there for opening night.” He waved two tickets in the air.
“Jack!” I practically shouted. “You don’t have to do that!”
“Sure I do,” he said reproachfully. “I’ve drank more beer around you than all my wives combined, and I won’t be seeing you around the bar for a while once the show starts. I have to do my part to make sure that theater is as full as can be.”
“I doubt it’ll be a packed house on opening night, but I appreciate the thought.”
“Besides,” he added with a smile that revealed every wrinkle in his kind face, “I want to be able to tell people that I was there when you became a big star.”
There was no hint of teasing or mocking in his voice. He was completely serious. I felt myself getting choked up, so I went around the bar and hugged him.
“Thank you.” I wiped a tear from my eye. “And hey, you should have told me you wanted to come. I’ve got a pack of free tickets to give away.”
Jack grinned and flashed the tickets again. “I appreciate the offer, but these are better. I’m too old to sit in the cheap seats.”
Robbie sighed. “I would come, but I have to work Friday.”
“Aww come on,” Jack moaned. “Call in sick. You never take a sick day.”
“That would be irresponsible. Because our only other good bartender is taking a leave of absence for the next three months.”
“We’ll be lucky if the show lasts three months,” I said. “Things are going well, but that’s just relative to how it went with Tatiana as the lead. Overall it’s still mediocre at best.”
Jack was focused on Robbie. “Fuck the bar. It won’t be the end of the world if it’s slow for one night. You can sit with me. These tickets are in a box with free drinks. And the view from the side would—”
Robbie made a series of shushing noises. “You had me at free drinks. But why aren’t you taking your wife?”
“Wife number five doesn’t like theater. Which is a shame. I should get around to divorcing her and looking for number six…”
Robbie put a hand on my arm. “Can’t wait to see you up on stage! No pressure, but this will be the first show I’ve ever seen.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said, smiling to myself.
52
Nadia
After a long day of practicing and the dress rehearsal itself, followed by a three hour shift on my feet at the bar, by the time I got home I was asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. That was the nice thing about exhaustion—the deep sleep that followed.
I woke up feeling relaxed and refreshed. I barely even needed coffee, though I still brewed a cup out of habit.
I had the day off. A full day with literally no obligations. What was I going to do with myself?
I started by taking a long, hot bath. An hour of soaking while drinking my coffee, hot liquid on the inside and the outside until my toes were wrinkled and my skin soft.
After that I had lunch with Dorian in the garden. We chatted about how well dress rehearsal had gone. Everyone nailed their lines and track movements. It was challenging running through the entire show all at once with only the intermission as a break, but we crushed it. We were ready.
In the afternoon I decided to go for a walk around the city. Just aimlessly walking through the upper east side, savoring the city and noise all a round me. As I walked toward midtown, I watched the people I passed. People who might come to the show and see me sing. Men and women of all ages and nationalities and cultures. They would sit in little theater seats, hold show pamphlets in their hands that had my name listed next to the character of Jane, and for two hours and change I would have their complete attention.
Tomorrow might make or break my entire career as an actress. I shivered at the thought.
Andy grilled steaks for dinner. Wagyu filets that were so tender they were practically the same consistency as the butter sauce dripping on top. Paired with the asparagus that Dorian sauteed, and a bottle of expensive wine Ryan picked out, it was a wonderful dinner with three of my maybe-boyfriends.
We joked about who was the best lover of the three, then talked about the show. All of us had high hopes for it, even Ryan, who had been staying home and looking for a job the past week. We gossiped about Tatiana and how pouty she must be to miss opening night, and whether she would be there with her grandfather John Vandercant. The conversation was lighthearted between four people who were fast becoming close friends.
None of us acknowledged the elephant in the room: Braden.
After dessert—New York cheesecake with a strawberry drizzle—I went to my room and pulled up Braden’s number on my phone. I must have sent him a hundred texts in the last week, but he hadn’t responded to any of them. I would have been worried if not for the fact that Dorian had called his mother to make sure he was okay.
