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She straightens, staring at me for an extra-long beat as if looking for something new. “I’m writing the book—the lyrics,” she goes on. “My writing partner does the score.” She gathers up her books from the desk and starts to brush past me when I call afterher.
“I love musicals. I know Broadway doesn’t have the money Hollywood does or the tradition of Shakespeare, but musical theater is big and bright and raw and unapologetic and honest… There’s nothing else that can make you cry and laugh in the same three minutes. Or that can make your heart expand until you swear it’s going to burst out of your ribs. It’s the most beautiful, unapologetically human form of expression I’ve everseen.”
I’m being more candid with her than I’ve been all year, but it’s too late to changethat.
She turns back. Her lips purse and I brace myself, waiting for her to bite out somethingharsh.
Instead she says, “My partner and I have an off-Broadway show running rightnow.”
When she gives me the name, I write it down immediately. “I’ll go see it thisweekend.”
Her lips twitch at the corner. “If you’re that interested, I can have a couple of seats for you Friday at willcall.”
By the time I dash out of class to head over to the Columbia campus to study with Pen, I’m already feeling bouncier than I have inweeks.
* * *
That night in my room,I text Tyler,triumphant.
Annie:I scored us a practice room for tomorrow. You can thank me now orlater.
The response comes back almost immediately.
Tyler:I can do us one better if you’re willing to go toBrooklyn.
Annie:???
Tyler:I’m playing a session gig for Zeke. We’ll probably finish early, and we can use the studio for a bit ifso.
Thursday after class at Columbia,I have lunch with Pen, catching up on both of our gossip. According to her eyebrows plastered to her hairline, I’ve won thisround.
Before I leave campus, she hands me the oversized package that was delivered to her room with my name onit.
It’s perfect timing, and I take it on the subway with me toBrooklyn.
I use the map on my phone to find the brick building on the corner. Inside, the woman at the desk gets me an escort to studiotwo.
The producer acknowledges me with a nod through the glass panel in the door, and moments later, the door opens. I head into the booth as my attention’s drawn to the guy on the other side of theglass.
Tyler’s sitting on a stool, guitar in his lap, laughing with the other guys in theband.
He’s so handsome and competent, perfectly at ease, and my chest expands as I watchhim.
I’m proud of him but a little envious,too.
“They’re wrapping up. I’mZeke.”
My head turns toward the fit, middle-aged man on this side of the glass wearing a sport coat withjeans.
“Annie.” I hold out ahand.
His gaze narrows as he takes it. “Annie…?”
“JustAnnie.”
Tyler comes through the door. His eyes brighten with pleasure as he seesme.
“Nice work today, Tyler,” Zeke says. “I might have a gig for you. You free Tuesdaynight?”
