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Chapter Seven
Logan
Samantha and I meet by our bags to dig around for snacks and water bottles. “You look great out there, Logan,” she quietly tells me under the echo of conversations. “I don’t think I’ve heard you sing before. Impressed.”
I run a hand through my hair. “You heard me. We did that play together in grade school.”
Playfully touching my abs she smiles, “Your voice changed a lot since then.”
Marion’s excitement pulls my attention. “Wow, this show is going to be so fun, right?”
Samantha looks up from her bag, producing a banana from it. “I love the story!”
Marion’s glance flicks to the fruit. “Extravagant choice, Sam.”
“What do you mean?”
“I never eat that much sugar when I’m training. There’s potassium, sure, but the sugars make you crash.”
“I’m just having one.”
“And that bar, how much is in that? I’m surprised they even still make that brand and market it to athletes. Who’re they kidding?” Marion rolls her eyes.
Samantha peels the unbruised, yellow skin and chomps down. “Guess that’s why I didn’t get the lead.”
I snort, a grin replacing my annoyance. Leave Sam to take care of herself.
Marion straightens her shoulders. “Guess so. You’ve gotta take this seriously if you want to be the best. Where do the best go?”
Behind her, Asher walks up. “I don’t know about that. I’ve been on Broadway stages with some mediocre assholes.”
I like the guy a little more for saying that. And Samantha does, too, which is unfortunate.
But Marion’s not buying it, even though she’s hiding the fact because she wants his attention. “You know better than I do, obviously. But the stars have to be the best. That’s what makes them watchable.” She touches his arm, not a first since they’ve been playing lovers all week. “Like you out there. You heard the steps once and had them. I’ve never seen anyone pick it up that quickly.”
Asher reaches over and rips a chunk off Samantha’s banana, as she reacts with a laugh. Shoving the spongy fruit in his mouth, he shrugs, “They’re not hard steps. Excuse me, I’ve gotta make a call.”
Crossing my arms as the three of us watch the big city boy stroll out the door, I tell Marion, “Guess he doesn’t mind sugar either.”
She walks away. “It’s just a banana. It’s not like it’s cake.”
Sam and I stare after her a beat, and exchange a look as I mutter, “My favorite person.”
“Stop.”
“She got the part. Why does she have to still try to make you feel small?”
Samantha cocks an eyebrow. “Still?”
Flicking a glance to Marion, I remind her, “It’s always been that way ever since we were kids.”
“She’s really insecure.”
I snort, “Doesn’t come off that way!”
“There’s no other reason for her to have made all those little digs.” Samantha pulls her blonde hair down to fix her ponytail. It’s been a long morning. “If she’s that critical of me, she’s just as critical of herself.”
“She’s jealous.”
