Wicked White

by Michelle A. Valentine

“Yes sir. I will. Thank you so much.”

  After I thank him again, he ends the call and I find myself twirling like a lunatic in the middle of a busy Manhattan sidewalk.

  I can’t believe it. My dream—it’s actually happening.

  I burst into tears, heartbroken that I can’t thank Ace in person for coming into my life, shaking the shit out of things, and making me a better performer. I owe him my gratitude, even if he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.

  Not knowing how else to reach him, I search for the only number I have to connect with him and dial it. I haven’t tried this number in two weeks—not since the day I saw him driving away from me. I used to call it daily, but every single one of my attempts went unanswered. It will probably be no different today, I just need to hear his voice. I want to share my fantastic news with him.

  The number rings and the automated voice comes on the line. The message I leave isn’t too long, not too short, but I hope he actually listens to it, because God, I miss him so much.

  I pause, not knowing what else I can say, so I simply hang up. A tear leaks down my cheek. There’re so many emotions flowing through me: hurt, pain, anger, but most of all overwhelming sadness for the loss of the relationship I had with him. I thought I meant more to him. I would think what we had would at least warrant a phone call to tell me that he never wants to see me again if that’s how he truly feels, and above all else, I wonder what he came to say to me at my apartment that day but never got the chance to.

  I quickly dial the next person I can’t wait to share the news with.

  “What’s up, Dancing Queen?” Birdie asks excitedly before she even mutters a hello.

  “I’m fabulous,” I say with a dreamy sigh.

  “Okay, out with it. I’m on pins and needles here waiting. Did you get a callback from your last audition?”

  “Yes!” I squeal. “But that’s not the best part.”

  “What could be any better than that? Isn’t that what you’ve been dreaming of—finally landing a role on Broadway?” she asks, and my heart pounds ninety miles a minute.

  “I got a callback for the lead role.” Even I can hear the excitement in my voice as I tell her my news.

  “Shut the fuck up!” She giggles, clearly delighted. “The lead. Wow! Congratulations, Iris. That’s great news! When do you go back to read for that part?”

  “Tomorrow morning. I’m nervous as hell,” I admit. “I wish you were here for moral support.”

  “Aw, me too. I would be there if I could, you know that. It’s just hard to walk away from my job at Angel’s. Tips are really adding up, and I can’t miss out on the cash. Me and Grandma need it, you know.” I can tell she’s frowning, and I want to let her off the hook by showing her I understand.

  “Well, you can make it up to me. If I get the role, then I’ll pay for you and Adele to fly up and watch the show on opening night. Deal?” I ask.

  “You might as well book our tickets then, because I know you’ll get it.” There’s no waver or teasing in her voice. “You got this, Iris. You were born to shine on Broadway.”

  I smile, loving the fact that through all the ups and downs in my life, Birdie has always been there for me. She’s more like a sister than my best friend, and I love her to pieces. She and Adele are the only people I have left in my life who truly love me back.

  “Thanks. That means a lot,” I tell her. “I miss you so much.”

  “Oh, no. I know that pouty tone. You called him again, didn’t you?”

  I roll my eyes. Sometimes it’s scary how well she knows me.

  I sigh. “I did, but only to tell him the news. I felt like I owed a call to him since he helped me so much with my singing.”

  “He’s an idiot,” Birdie mutters, and I can tell she’s scowling. “One day he’ll wake up and kick himself for being a jackass for letting you go.”

  “I pushed him away, remember?” I remind her.

  “True, but you also left fifty messages apologizing before I threatened you with violence if you called him again. He had ample opportunity to come back to you. It’s his own fault for showing up after five weeks of silence and seeing a man being nice to you. If he’s that much of a jackhole that he won’t even let you explain what he saw, then he doesn’t deserve you. That’s why from this point on, I’m forbidding you from ever calling him again if you don’t want me to personally fly to New York just to kick your cute little ass.”

  “All right. All right.” I laugh but know she means business.

  “Good, now repeat after me: I, Iris Easton.”

  “Birdie . . .” I complain.

  “Just do it,” she orders.

  I roll my eyes, feeling really silly, but go along with her because I know she won’t drop it until I do. “I, Iris Easton.”

  “Promise to never call the douche canoe ever again,” she says with an authoritative tone to her voice.

  I mutter the words but don’t really mean it, because when it comes to Ace, I can’t seem to control my actions.

  “Feel better?” Birdie’s voice turns cheery.

  “No,” I laugh. “But do I at least get an A for effort?”

  “You’re impossible,” she laughs. “Call me tomorrow and tell me all about the callback. I’m so excited.” There’s a rustling on her end of the line. “I just hugged myself and pretended I was giving you a hug for luck, even though you won’t need it. You’re going to blow them away tomorrow. I have faith.”

  After she hangs up, I still find myself thinking about Ace. Birdie’s right. I have to stop begging him to give me another chance. It’s been two weeks since he was here and saw me and Shane together, so maybe it’s time to give up hope and move on. I just wish my heart would listen to my logical brain.

  ACE

  I haven’t left my house in nearly two weeks. Jane Ann has limited herself to only contacting me by phone or text since the last time she was here, when she told me I was a disgusting mess who needed to shower.

  She’s right. I should at least shower, but I don’t even have the energy for that.

  The thought of Iris being with another man guts me to the point that I can hardly go on.

  She left me a message after I saw her that day. She wanted to explain herself, but I know what I saw. There was something going on between her and the suit-wearing douche bag, and I can’t call her back and listen to her lie to me, trying to convince me that there isn’t. I’m not stupid.

  I would give anything to know how she’s doing—to know if she’s happy—but I’ve forced myself to stay away. She’s obviously moved on, and I can’t go on trying to get her back into my life if she doesn’t want to be here. That doesn’t stop me from still obsessing about her, though.

  I grab the prepaid cell phone that I used while I was on the lam and go to my voice mail box, where I’ve saved all the messages from when Iris attempted to contact me in the past. I haven’t allowed myself to listen to them since the day I saw her, but now, thinking about her, I just need to hear her voice.

  I press play and close my eyes as her voice wafts through the receiver.

  When I get to the last message, I raise my eyebrows, because it’s been awhile since I played these, and it surprises me that there’s a new one from today.

  I sit up and replay the message again, listening closely. “Ace, hi, it’s Iris. I know you probably don’t want to hear from me, but I wanted to let you know that I had an amazing audition thanks to the things you taught me about performing. I got a callback, and instead of the small role I initially went after, I’m going back to read for the lead role in Forgiving Lesley. So, I just wanted to tell you thank you and that I haven’t forgotten about the money I owe you for the taxes. I’ve got some saved and would love for you to call me back and tell me where to send it.”

  An overwhelming energy runs through me to speak with Iris, but I know that probably isn’t a good idea. Instead I pick up a pen and the notepad in front of me and begin working on a song that express
es every emotion that I’m feeling as I think of Iris.

  In less than an hour, I stare at the lyrics before me and smile. This might just be the best damn song I’ve ever written, and I need to get into the studio to record it.

  IRIS

  Darcy and Jason were both over-the-moon excited for me when I first told them about the phone call from Mark Talsman after I got to work yesterday. Instead of being attentive to the restaurant patrons, we spend most of the shift last night going over my audition piece. They even went as far as making me promise that when I become a star someday that I won’t forget about them and will help them break into the business too. I laughed and told them that I would. They’re my friends. Of course I’ll help them if I have the opportunity. I just pray that today goes well and I get the part.

  I take a deep breath and head into the auditorium. Unlike every other audition I’ve been to, there aren’t bodies lined as far as the eye can see, all of them usually vying for the same exact parts. Today there only a few women and men standing together on the stage. It feels much more intimate this time. It’s almost as if I can feel every eye in the place judging me, hoping that I’ll screw up and makes their odds better for getting a role.

  The same director that sat out in the auditorium the last time I was here now walks on stage in front of the group of people I’m standing with. “Good morning, everyone. I’m Mark Talsman, the director, and we called those of you in this room back because we saw something special in you when you last performed for us. My assistant, Sheila”—Mr. Talsman gestures over to the chunky woman with short, black, curly hair who is wearing a headset and holding a clipboard—“will now put you into groups based on the role you are trying out for. This is your one last shot to impress me. Put your best foot forward and pour your heart into the music. Show me what you’ve got. Sheila, if you will.”

  Sheila steps in front of us. “When I announce the role you were called for, I want you to come forward. Let’s start with the leading male role of Jonah.”

  Four of the men in the group step in front of the rest of us, and Sheila motions them to the right of the stage. “Great. You all stay there. Next is the leading female role of Lesley.” My heart races as I step out, along with only one other woman. “You two stand next to my Jonahs.”

  I step over to the woman who is going out for the same part as me, and can’t help noticing how absolutely stunning she is. Her dark hair flows down her back and has a glorious natural shine to it. Her blue eyes pop against her tanned, toned skin, and I suddenly feel very plain next to this beauty.

  After everyone is grouped up, Sheila sends our groups to different sections of the theater to sit in the rows of chairs so we can watch all the performances while we await our turns.

  The Jonahs are up first. One by one I observe each of their performances and take mental notes on what each one of them does right or does wrong so it can help me in my future auditions.

  While they are all impressive, the last man who walks on stage blows me away with the silky tone to his voice that accompanies his model good looks. I swear all the women within earshot of me actually swooned a little, judging from their sighs.

  There’s really no question on who will be getting that part.

  Sheila steps on stage and calls, “Veronica Constance for the part of Lesley.”

  The raven-haired beauty next to me stands and makes her way to the stage, and just when she opens her mouth I wonder what I’m even doing here. She’s obviously got the part. She’s too good not to.

  Her voice flows like butter through the entire auditorium, and she projects so loudly that I’m sure her voice actually vibrates the bones of every person in the room.

  I sink down in my chair and debate just throwing up the white flag and leaving, but I know that’s completely unprofessional, so I decide to stick it out and see what I can learn from it.

  When she’s finished, Veronica actually curtsies to Mr. Talsman and walks off stage.

  Sheila steps back out and calls, “Iris Easton.”

  I swallow hard, then lick my suddenly dry lips. My heart pounds a mile a minute as I take center stage and the same music begins to play that Veronica just sang to for the part of Lesley. Nerves shoot through me, and I take a deep breath, attempting to relax. I allow myself to close my eyes for a brief moment just to picture Ace’s encouraging face. When I open them, I use his image as my motivation when singing this song about a man breaking a woman’s heart. Tipping my chin up, facing Mr. Talsman, I sing my heart out.

  Every single person who I consider a friend is out with me tonight as we celebrate the call I received last week from Mr. Talsman giving me the lead role in Forgiving Lesley. Birdie insisted on hopping a flight to come celebrate with me, and I’m glad she did. This is by far one of the most important things that can happen for my career, and it means a lot to me that she’s here.

  “To Iris,” Shane announces, and we hold up the shots our bartender just made for us. “May she knock ’em dead and whomp it over the fence!”

  I giggle at Shane and the funny way he likes to twist around old expressions.

  “To Iris,” Darcy, Jason, and Birdie say in unison before we all tip the amber shots back at the same time.

  My lips pucker as the alcohol burns my throat on its way down to my stomach. I haven’t drunk hard liquor since the last time I got completely shitfaced and Ace was there being a gentleman, taking care of me.

  I sigh at even the mere thought of him.

  “You didn’t tell me that Shane was such a hottie,” Birdie whispers in my ear.

  Heat creeps up my neck and into my face, surely breaking my skin into a bright red blush. “I told you he was cute.”

  Birdie giggles as her eyes roam over Shane. “Cute is much different than hot. Cute is the word you use when a guy is average looking with maybe one nice feature. It’s not the word you use to describe a man that’s nearly full-on perfection like Shane. If I were you, I’d be all over that and be muttering ‘Ace who?’”

  I give her a pointed look. “I haven’t mentioned Ace in a while, have I? You made me take the no-calling-the-douche-canoe oath, remember? I’m not about to call him and endure your ass-kicking wrath.”

  Birdie lifts one eyebrow. “You might not’ve called him, but it doesn’t mean you still aren’t sitting around pining away for him. I know you, Iris. I know you have a hard time moving on when your heart gets broken. I’m not telling you to run off with Shane and have little hot suit-wearing minibabies, but I don’t see the harm in giving him a shot. He’s obviously so into you.”

  I stare at Shane, and I totally get where Birdie is coming from. Shane is hot . . . some may even call him downright sexy with his strong jawline, dazzling smile, and the noticeably chiseled body lurking under that dress shirt. Couple all that with intriguing hazel eyes and hair . . . I can definitely see why Birdie’s making a fuss because I’m not all over the man. It’s hard to make her understand that the vast amount of love I still have for Ace practically blinds me to all other men.

  “I’m just not ready,” I confide in my best friend. “I just need a little more time. Shane understands that.”

  Almost as if Shane can sense that we’re talking about him, he turns in my direction and smiles. His dimples are amazingly cute, and maybe someday I will be ready for something more with him. I lift up my drink and mouth “Thank you” to him before I turn around on the stool to watch the TV hanging over the bar, because I don’t want to send off a bunch of flirty signals by just staring at him.

  I raise the beer to my lips to take a sip, but my arm pauses midway. There on the screen, sitting down for another interview with Linda Bronson, is Ace.

  I grab Birdie’s arm and squeeze, causing her to turn around and check out what’s got me so worked up.

  “Oh, shit,” she mutters beside me before asking the bartender to turn the volume on the television up.

  Linda sits across from Ace and smiles at him. “You look well. How are things no
w that you’ve been back with your band for the last month?”

  Ace rakes his hand through his bronze hair like the question makes him nervous. “It’s still a work in progress, but things are getting better. We’ve actually been back in the studio the last couple of weeks, recording; things are really starting to come together in that department.”

  Linda nods and then follows up with another question. “Are these new songs going in the new direction you were telling me about last time we spoke?”

  He licks his plump lips and memories flood my brain of what he tasted like on my tongue. “Yes. I’ve written most of the songs for the new album. There’s one in particular that I’m really proud of. It’s called ‘Juliet, Forgive Me.’”

  “That sounds like an interesting title. Does it have a meaning?”

  He stiffens a bit and then nods. “It does. It’s my vision of what Romeo’s makeup song to Juliet might sound like if he had the opportunity to tell her he’s sorry.”

  She grins. “Are you a fan of the classic Shakespearean works?”

  “Very much so. Shakespeare is something very personal for me,” Ace answers. “Same goes for the new songs.”

  Linda raises her eyebrows, and I can see the wheels turning in her brain as she begins digging a little deeper into what he means by that. “Did you write these songs with any particular person in mind?”

  Ace tilts his head and rubs his index finger across the bottom of his chin. “I did, and she knows exactly who she is. I’ve got a lot of making up to do to this person, so I thought I’d start by telling her how sorry I am through a song.”

  I gasp and then cover my mouth with my hand. Tears well up in my eyes, and it’s taking everything in me not to break down in front of all these people.

  “When do you plan on releasing this song?” Linda asks.

  He shrugs. “I’m not really sure. The label has control of all that, but I’m able to sing it now, if you’d like.”

  The camera focuses on Linda, who looks straight into the lens like she’s speaking with her audience. “Wow. A new song debut right here on Celebrity Pop Buzz Nightly. This is a first for us.” She turns her attention back to Ace as someone from the side of the shot hands him a guitar. “Viewers are in for a treat, and I hope the young lady you wrote this for is watching. Ace, whenever you’re ready.”