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It was crucial to secure the Shubert Theatre as the venue, since it was the only Broadway theater with no shows running. I knew I had to bring my A-game for this.
I stepped out of the car, admiring the grandeur of the building before me. My determination to make this my stage was unwavering.
Before I could reach the door, it swung open, and out stepped Stan with two cups of coffee in hand. “Come on, Spencer,” he said, gesturing for me to enter the building. “He is waiting for us.”
I checked my watch and frowned slightly. Despite its expense, it must be running behind schedule. “Am I late?” I asked as I stepped inside.
“He’s known to be early,” Stan replied, handing me a steaming cup of coffee. I took a sip, only to burn my tongue on the scalding liquid.
Minutes later, Stan and I sat across from the Vice President of Theatre Operations. The formalities were swiftly dispensed with, and I was then asked to explain my show. This was a moment I always feared, as some concepts, no matter how ingenious, could sound ridiculous when spoken out loud.
“It’s a mash-up, a modern-day retelling of ‘A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court’ and ‘The Prince and the Pauper,’” I began, bracing myself for any potential skepticism. “I know you might wonder how a time-travel story will translate to the stage, but before you write it off, look at these numbers from last year’s run on the West End.” I handed him a folder filled with ticket sales and profit margins.
He studied the information, his expression unreadable. Then he set down the folder and looked up at me. “I’m intrigued. Tell me more,” he said.
It was hard not to smile at this encouraging response. “The story starts in the present day with a young woman named Canty,” I said, eager to delve deeper into the details of my production.
* * *
“We need to celebrate,”Stan declared as we left the office.
“Indeed, we do,” I agreed, my spirits lifted by the success of my pitch. The VP was so impressed that he brought in a few other executives for me to present my show to. By the end, they were already talking about contracts, casting, and crew. The cherry on top was that I would get the space I wanted: The Shubert Theatre.
“Where do you want to go to celebrate?” Stan asked. “A fancy restaurant?”
“I was thinking more of a pub,” I responded impulsively. “Nothing beats a pint of ale and some fish and chips to celebrate a job well done, right?”
Stan gave me a playful grin. “You just want to see if the girl from the other night is there. I get it. My driver is outside. Let’s have him take us there.”
Not wanting to acknowledge Stan’s accurate observation, I redirected the conversation to the show. “Can you get me a list of crew members you think would be the best fit? If the Shubert Organization wants to have our first open casting call on Thursday, we need to have our director and casting director booked by then at the least.”
“I know a few directors who are between projects right now,” Stan replied. “Some of them even have nearly full crews that they work with regularly. We might as well take advantage of that.”
I agreed, and we continued our discussion as Stan’s driver took us to the pub.
When we arrived, the familiar smell of chips and beer greeted us. It wasn’t as busy as last time, with only a few patrons scattered around the tables, since it was still early for the lunch crowd. I searched the room for signs of London, but my heart sank as she was nowhere to be seen.
“You’re not really hoping to find her here, are you?” Stan asked with a chuckle.
“Of course not. Why would she be hanging around a pub at this hour? That would make her a drunk... like us,” I said with a grin.
Stan laughed and patted my shoulder. “Why don’t you call her and invite her to celebrate with us?”
“I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t even have her number. She left my hotel room in the middle of the night without a word.”
Whoops. I didn’t mean to let that slip.
Stan looked at me in surprise. “You slept with her? You devil. I’m impressed,” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t worry. If it’s meant to be, you’ll find each other again.”
I rolled my eyes and gave him a playful grin. “When did you become such a romantic, old friend?”
“I’ve always been a romantic,” Stan replied with a chuckle. “Well then, since she’s not here, let’s just enjoy our pint and watch the soccer game,” he said, gesturing to the match playing on the TV.
“Football,” I corrected him with a grin. “It’s football, not soccer. I am British after all.”
“Ha! Touché, my friend,” Stan replied with a playful smirk. “I stand corrected. Football it is.” He raised his glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to football and finding love, even if it’s just for one night.”
We ordered our lunch and settled in to watch the match, but my mind kept drifting back to London. As we chatted and enjoyed our meal, I couldn’t shake the feeling of hope that she might walk in and our paths would cross once again. Although I knew deep down that it was unlikely, I still kept an eye on the door, just in case.
