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After a moment, Kevin brought his eyes up to meet his. “You’re right,” he said.
“I know.”
“But it all worked out, didn’t it?”
This time Nick did stand, carefully leaning on the table and momentarily regretting the Brigadoon.
“I am your friend,” he said, “and I am her friend. I’m sure I’ll end up going to idiotic lengths to make life easier for both of you. But you need to start making life easier for me. You need to start goddamn asking.”
“Okay,” Kevin said, nodding. “I will.”
Nick was proud of the fear he saw on Kevin’s face as he sat down, until he realized Kevin was probably afraid he’d miss his chair. Once Nick was safely seated, Kevin headed for the hallway to the dressing rooms.
“Thank you,” Nick forced himself to call after him. “You do make a really good lunch.”
Kevin stopped in the doorway. “You know Hal and her folks are out front,” he said.
“I’d rather they not know I’m here.”
“Sure,” Kevin said. “I just figured you might want to chat, since we’ll be moving soon.”
Nick looked up. “Moving?”
“Yeah. It’ll be better for everybody when we’re back at Icarus.”
One after another, the cast and crew hurried into the green room in street clothes—jeans or shorts, sunglasses, and ball caps—and acknowledged him with a quick smile or wave. Then it was through the opposite door and into the dressing rooms, and the same person who had seemed almost disheveled on the way in would reappear less than twenty minutes later, hair combed, makeup perfect, clad in the black slacks and colorful shirt of a Vivez server. Nick envied the speed of it, since changing so quickly was impossible for him, but more than that, he liked the energy the cast had in costume. They seemed both relaxed and focused, as if putting on the trappings of this place reminded them of their purpose here. Nick feigned reluctance when Linda insisted on including him in the customary preshow huddle, but he liked standing shoulder to shoulder with his coworkers as they formed a circle around the room—and he made sure to stand next to Mimi so he could ask her for another favor.
The Brigadoon was tart and strong, and Mimi managed to rush a new cup to his table after the huddle. He opened his mouth to thank her, but she waved him off and jogged toward the dressing rooms. He understood: The show was starting in minutes.
God, how did it feel to move that quickly?
He was still dreaming of running when Mimi came back through the door, dressed in her first costume of the evening: sparkly black pants, black shoes, white dress shirt, and loose red tie. “How are we?” she asked.
He looked her up and down and shook his head. “Too classy. I can’t be in the same room with this kind of class.”
She grinned and straddled a nearby chair. “I asked around for you. There’s been no news of a certain tap dancer leaving for greener pastures.”
“Ah,” Nick said. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
“No, but it’d be poor form to leave during the run of a show he’s featured in.”
“I doubt that matters.”
Mimi lowered her voice. “I can’t imagine you’d be upset if he left.”
“Not even a little bit.”
“Which means you’re drowning your sorrows in Brigadoons and melted cheese because Hayley would be leaving with him.”
Nick just looked at her.
“I’m sure you’ve already thought of this, being a math guy and all.” Mimi got up from her chair. “But if two people are leaving, one of them might not be happy about it.”
Nick had time to smile his thanks before the stage door opened. Showtime.
He’d assumed he was just going to watch the chaos, but the cast immediately made him a part of it. He was an insider, which meant he could be trusted, but he was new to the green room, which meant he was a fresh pair of ears for all inside jokes and complaints about annoying audience members. The cast left to tend to their patrons at intermission, so Nick was surprised when Cal came in with a fresh drink.
“Don’t you have tables to cover?” he asked.
