“So when are we going out to celebrate your soon-to-be celebrity?” I ask to distract myself.
“We’ll find a free night after we both have our rehearsal schedules,” she says, nudging my shoulder with the word “both.”
I can’t help smiling. “From your mouth to God’s ears.”
“Karma, Hil. The universe owes you.”
“Tell me about it,” I say, looping my arm over her shoulder and heading for the door.
IT’S WEDNESDAY, NOT Thursday, but I’m sitting at Argo Tea anyway. There’s just something about being here that makes me feel calmer, and I need to feel calm right now. I’ve been on pins and needles since the audition yesterday.
I’m holding my cup to my face, breathing in the steam and staring out the window into the gray of an overcast winter New York day when my phone rings. I jump, thinking it might be Hailey about the part, but then I realize it’s Creed.
Alessandro.
I have the fleeting notion that he knows I’m here, but then I realize that’s stupid. He might know me better than I want him to, but he’s not psychic. I connect and lift the phone. “Hey.”
“Hello, Hilary. I’m just confirming we’re still on for tomorrow?”
“Yeah. It’s your turn, right?” It’s actually mine, but I was so stressed about the audition that he said he’d take this week.
“It is, and I think I might have something that will lift your spirits . . . literally.”
“Oh?” I ask, swirling my cup on the table.
“Wear something loose and comfortable.”
I sip my tea. “That’s all I’m going to get, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your definition of ‘loose and comfortable’?”
“Something you’d work out in.”
I stop cold, remembering what he does to stay in shape. “Please tell me we’re not boxing.”
He blows a laugh through the phone. “No. I’m afraid of you.”
The twinge of disappointment surprises me. Now that I really think about it, there’s something appealing about the thought of boxing Alessandro . . . maybe it’s that I really want to punch him . . . or see him half naked. “Yeah, well . . . someone I know taught me to throw a pretty mean punch.”
“I’m not foolish enough to get in front of it,” he says in a measured tone. “Besides, what I have planned is far more interesting.”
I take another slow sip of tea. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“You will.” I hear the smile in his voice and smile back, but then the phone beeps in my ear. I peek at the screen, but don’t recognize the number. “I’ve got another call,” I tell Alessandro, my stomach tightening. “Talk later, okay?”
“Tomorrow. Meet me at my apartment at eleven.”
I don’t have time to voice the “Whoa!” as my stomach loops at the thought of being in his apartment again. I hit connect. “Hello?”
“Hilary McIntyre?” a woman’s voice asks.
My looping stomach stalls midair. “Yes?”
“Hey. It’s Hailey Dunning . . . from the When You Least Expect It audition?”
Everything freezes. Even my blood stops cold in my veins. “Oh. Hi.”
shitshitshit
I realize my free hand is twisted so tightly into my kinks that I’m about to rip a chunk out, scalp and all, but I can’t make myself let go.
“Hey . . . sorry this took so long, but I just wanted to let you know that the director has decided to go another direction.”
My face crumples as a stone drops in my stomach. I untwist my hand from my hair and hold it over my mouth as I swallow back the tea rising in my throat. “Oh . . . okay . . . thanks.”
She blows a sigh into the phone. “Listen. For what it’s worth, I think he’s making a huge mistake. You were perfect for this part. I’m not sure he’s thinking with the right head.”
I sink deeper into my chair, working to choke back the tears I feel threaten. “So . . . it’s Bambi?”
“Yeah. Sorry. But I’ll totally let you know if I hear of anything else.”
The roller coaster ride my stomach’s on continues as it does another loop. “Seriously? You’d do that?”
“I think you’ve got real talent. Just ’cause John can’t see past his hard-on, doesn’t mean you didn’t deserve this part. I’m also going to pass your name along to an agent I know pretty well.”
“Wow. Thanks. That would be totally amazing.” That would be more than amazing. If I had an agent to set me up with more auditions, I know I’d score a part. I’ve learned a lot in the last two years.
“No problem . . . and . . .” I wait through a pause. “There’s one more thing I was wanting to ask.”
“Sure. Anything.”
“That girl you were with at the audition . . .” she says tentatively. “I think her name’s Jess or Jessica?”
“Yeah . . . ?” If she wants Jess for a part, as much as I love Jess, I swear to God I’ll slit her throat.
“Do you have her number?”
Damn. “She’s already got a really awesome secondary part in a—”
“It’s not about a part,” Hailey interrupts. When I don’t say anything, she continues. “I’ve seen her around and . . . do you know if she’s single?”
No way!
“Um, yeah. I think so.”
“I’d like to call her, so . . .”
“Oh.” So, wow. “I feel a little weird about giving her number out. Can I pass yours along and have her call you?” Normally I wouldn’t be nearly this nice, but if she’s going to be my new in, I want to keep her happy.
“Yeah, thanks,” she says, and I think she sounds a little relieved. “That would be great. This is my private cell number.”
“Okay. I’ll let her know.” Could this get any weirder?
“And sorry about the part.”
I start to say, “I’m used to it,” but decide that it would be kind of stupid to admit how many times I’ve been rejected to the one person who might be able to help me. “Thanks.”
I lower the phone and hang my head. I was so sure. I felt like my whole life was starting to fall in place. But this is like a cold splash of reality, right to the face. A hole opens up in my chest as I start to see that it was all just wishful thinking. Everything I thought was going so well is an illusion.
My heart’s still pounding as I bundle myself up and push out into the cold. Instead of the subway, to burn off some steam, I opt to walk home through the park. It’s just starting to snow—tiny flakes that stick on my jacket and in my eyelashes, but melt on the sidewalk. I’m not a big fan of winter, but it’s quiet and cold and, as the lights flicker to life along the footpaths, my heart rate starts to slow.
I take the right when the left would get me home faster and keep walking as the snowflakes get fatter and start to stick to the path. I take the next left onto the Mall without even thinking, and before I realize it, I’m at Bethesda Fountain, the tiled terrace stretching past the fountain toward the lake.
In my minds eye, it’s spring. Paddleboats drift lazily on the water, the thick drone of dragonflies and bees hangs in the humid air, and in the middle of the lower terrace, just in front of the fountain, there’s a mime doing a hideous “trapped in a box.”
A sixteen-year-old Alessandro is sitting on the cement bench to the left of the fountain with his sketch pad.
“Whatcha drawing?” I ask him, nudging my shoulder into his, thinking it’s going to be the mime.
He turns the pad, and I see the sketch is me. My head is resting on the back of the bench and my eyes are closed. I’m tipping my face up to the sun. And I’m smiling.
“Stop it!” I laugh, grabbing his sketch pad and bolting off the bench. Alessandro grins and chases me. I dart around the fountain, and when I glance over my shoulder, I realize Alessandro went around the other way. I cut back the way I came, looking over my shoulder for him, and see him coming fast. But, just as Alessandro catches up to me, I slam into the mime.