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“Holy shit, that’s high. I’m glad we’re just on 33.” A spacious, clean car is waiting for us to file into.
As we ride up, the guys are fucking with each other, talking so easily they don’t notice I’m not.
The doors open to a gutted-out floor that might have, at one time, housed office cubicles. Now it is one gigantic room, four times the old rehearsal space, with couches lining the walls, bathrooms in the distant right, a refrigerator in the distant left stocked with infused water bottles.
I see none of it.
I’m scanning every blonde head for the one I can’t stop thinking about.
My heart stops as Galloway says my name, and for a second I think her female voice might be Sam’s. I hide my disappointment. “Hi, Ms. Galloway.”
“Have you seen Asher?”
“No.”
Another elevator opens and the star of our show walks out, unwrapping his scarf and shaking his black hair into place. Behind him are the actors who play Samantha’s parents—their kids are grown, so they came with the production. Jumped at the chance, actually.
The doors close.
Galloway waves her hand. “There you are! Come to me.” As he approaches, we lock eyes while our choreographer and director claps for everyone’s attention. “Those of you who are just now joining us, this is Asher Gladstone, who stars as Donovan.” The announcement receives respectful and curious applause. “And Logan Clark plays his brother.” Slightly less enthusiastic applause for me. Galloway introduces the parents I know and the ones I don’t. People stop applauding now, because the roles are smaller. “And this is Heather Lightbody, who will be taking over Izzy.”
My stomach sinks.
Asher’s not surprised.
Izzy’s parents are.
I am.
She’s not coming?
Is this her understudy?
Am I missing something here?
Or just someone.
“I will work you hard and long. We have two weeks before curtains and the press is chomping at the bit for something spectacular to write about. Reporters came to Atlanta to get a head start but everyone is saying what we all know—the bar is raised on Broadway. People come from all over the world to see a show that not only entertains them but changes their lives. We will give them the best damn performance we are capable of, understood? I want each and every one of you to close this play feeling like you’ll never do a better job than what you did with us. I want your commitment, your blood, your souls. Are we ready?”
Though they’re whistling and cheering, all I can hear is the slowing of my heart. I make my way to Asher and nudge him. “Where is Samantha?”
He cocks a black eyebrow. “She didn’t tell you?”
“I don’t have time to play coy. She get fired?”
He’s eyeing me. “No, Logan. She backed out. Galloway tried to talk her into coming. She didn’t want to leave her family.”
My ribs are closing in on my lungs, and that leaves little hope for this shriveling thing I called a heart. I clear my throat and walk away in the direction that Galloway’s motioning me toward.
She’s saying something.
I just see moving lips.
Faces that will become familiar. Some already are. Every one of them feels like a stranger. I wasn’t supposed to go on this journey alone.
Was I?
