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“Sorry to disappoint. It’s kind of a touristy area. People come down in the spring and summer, and it’s dead in the winter.”
“How long did you live there?”
“All my life,” he admitted. “Until moving to New York.”
“You went to college there?”
“I actually didn’t go to college,” Andy said.
I leaned back in surprise. “Seriously? You?”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem so… academic,” I said, fumbling for the word. “I assumed you went to college and got your master’s degree.”
“Um, thank you?”
“It’s definitely a compliment,” I quickly added. “You’re smart. At least, you seem smart, I guess.” I realized I didn’t really know if he was smart or not, and was going off of the few interactions I’d had with him so far. To move on, I asked, “How did you become a lighting tech?”
“We had seasonal shows for the tourists,” he explained while wiping cheese off his chin with a napkin. “My parents made me get a summer job when I turned 15, so I applied to be a spotlight operator at one of the theaters along the beach strip. I did that for two years before the lighting director offered me an internship with him. He gave me one of his old boards to learn on at home.”
“Boards?”
He gestured. “Have you been back in the tech room?”
“Us dancer peons aren’t allowed back there,” I said with a chagrined smile.
“Okay. Well, the control board is in there. It’s full of dials and buttons and monitors that control all of the lighting.”
“Oh, right!” I replied. “I know what you’re talking about. I bet you wish you were an octopus so you had more arms while the show is going on. It must be stressful doing all of that while we’re on stage.”
He shrugged one slim shoulder. “Actually, we program most of the lighting routines ahead of time. Then during the show all I have to do is hit the button for routine number one, or two, or whichever one I have scheduled. Granted, I still have to pay attention in case there are any delays or problems…”
“Like a spotlight crashing to the stage?” I cut in.
He pursed his lips rather than laughing at my joke. “Usually not that catastrophic.”
I winced. This date was an opportunity for him to avoid thinking about how much of a shitshow The Proposition was, and I was the asshole reminding him about it. Now it was my turn to feel embarrassed.
“So you got an internship,” I said to get us back on track.
Andy nodded again. “Right. Did that for a year before I was essentially a master. Problem was, the lighting director down there was only 40 and had no plans to retire any time soon. Since the job pool was thin, I started looking around online for jobs. There’s a message forum for sound and lighting techs, and that’s where I met Ryan. He told me about a job up here, and…” He spread his hands as if that was that.
“And now you’re the lighting technician for the most prestigious show in New York,” I said.
He raised his glass. “Might as well retire after this, since there’s no room for improvement. What about you?”
“I wasn’t lucky enough to make a friend along the way,” I said. “I came to the city all by myself.”
His emerald eyes softened. “Ah, that’s tough. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t mean it to sound so pathetic. I’ve made friends here,” I said. But it wasn’t exactly true. Robbie was the closest friend I had in the city, and we were really just work associates. I didn’t even have his phone number.
“How’d you get started?” Andy asked. “In theater.”
“My roots are kind of like yours,” I replied. “I grew up in Iowa. The Quad-cities area, on the Mississippi. Wedged smack between half the corn and soy in the mid-west. I was athletic growing up. Kind of a Tom-boy.”
“You?” Andy said doubtfully. “I don’t see it.”
