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I’d spent the week feeling guilty and embarrassed. That feeling hadn’t dimmed much, but it was quickly being replaced by annoyance. Adults faced their problems—children ran from them. And Braden’s week of silence was as childish as it got.
Me: The show is tomorrow. Atkins is worried about whether or not you’ll show up, or if you’ll even be ready. It’s bullshit that you’re ghosting everyone because of one bad dinner.
It was therapeutic to tell him off. Braden was being selfish by essentially holding the show hostage. He was acting unprofessional by not putting his personal life aside to focus on The Proposition. I may have fucked up at dinner last week, but everything since then was on him.
And then, to my shock, he replied.
Braden: I’m still figuring things out.
Me: You can figure them out while performing in the show!
Braden: Not while you’re the lead.
Me: What?
Braden: Being around you complicates things. I can’t give my full attention to the show while you’re the lead.
Braden: I’m sorry
The words were a surprise, and then a punch to my gut. I hadn’t just fucked up his personal life. I was now actively inhibiting his professional life as well.
I sank down into my pillow and wanted to cry.
Then I got pissed off about it.
Me: I’m sorry I fucked up dinner with your parents. That’s 100% on me. But don’t you dare blame me for your own cowardice regarding the show. If you want to be the lead, come be the lead. Don’t pretend like I’m the reason you’re afraid to get up on stage.
Before he could respond, I set my phone to Do Not Disturb and went to bed.
53
Nadia
My phone was the first thing I checked when I woke up the next morning. Braden had never responded to my last text. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved, or disappointed.
I spent the day wondering if I should text him back. In the end, I decided not to.
Getting ready for the show seemed to have extra importance. I took longer in the shower to really wash my hair and scrub my skin clean. I shaved my legs with care, rather than the hasty job I normally did when I was short on time. I agonized for half an hour over what to wear, even though it didn’t matter since I would be getting into wardrobe at the theater. We might go out to dinner after to celebrate, so I chose a nice dress that hugged my hips and showed off my ass.
Ryan was out of the house, and Dorian and Andy were doing their own things, so I decided to go to the theater a little bit early. I got there an hour before the cast was supposed to arrive for makeup. Above the old theater was “VANDERCANT THEATER” painted in big, striking print, just above the white sign showing that tonight was opening night for The Proposition. Just inside the door were the stacks of printed show programs. I flipped past three pages of advertisements until I found the cast list for tonight:
Jane: Nadia Helmuth
Hector: Charlie Rosenstein
Marshall: Dorian Brackett
Seeing the understudy listed rather than Braden was a disappointment, but it was quickly overwritten by the tremendous joy I felt at seeing my name. I giggled and rubbed the goosebumps from my arms.
The stage hands were busy working on the set, but most of the noise came from last-minute construction that was going on backstage. Men in hard hats and power tools were finishing up work down a hall that had previously been storage rooms. One of the workers held up a hand to block me.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but you can’t come back here. We’ll be done in an hour.”
“Okay,” I said, eyeing the area suspiciously. What were they working on so late? It wasn’t related to the stage or props.
As I paced around the theater to kill time, I found myself growing worried about the saboteur. What if they came back and decided to cause more trouble? Or what if one of the traps they had set for Tatiana never went off, and I was going to unexpectedly trigger it tonight? I knew I was allowing myself to get worked up over nothing, but that did little to calm my nerves.
Stop it. I can’t think about this right now.
