The Daddy Audition

by Cindi Myers

  THE CONCERT HAD BEEN BILLED as an “up-and-coming jazz trio,” but after only two numbers, Jack and Tanya were both fidgeting in their seats.

  “Every song sounds the same,” Jack whispered as the band launched into its third song.

  Tanya nodded. “It’s not really my style of music.”

  “Mine, either. Want to go get something to eat instead?”

  She readily agreed and they slipped from their seats. In the lobby they discovered they weren’t the only people making a hasty getaway. In the truck, Jack apologized. “Sorry about that. The description of the band sounded good.”

  “It’s not your fault. That’s the risk of trying something new. I hope the tickets weren’t expensive.”

  “No. A client gave them to me. Now I know why.”

  “Where should we eat?” she asked.

  “How about the Wooden Nickel?”

  At least some things in Crested Butte never change, Tanya thought as she stepped into the venerable saloon on Elk Avenue. The scarred wooden floor, old booths and bar mirrors looked the same as they had a decade ago, and the air was redolent with the aroma of sizzling steaks and fried onion rings.

  Up to this point, the logistics of getting from place to place, the concert itself and idle conversation had distracted Tanya from thinking of this evening as a real date. Once she and Jack were seated facing each other in one of the booths, however, all the old memories of similar evenings spent in his company descended, tinting the moment with a poignant mixture of nostalgia and regret.

  Jack must have felt this, too, because as soon as they’d given their orders to the waitress, he asked, “Do you remember the last time we came here?”

  She nodded. “The night before graduation.” They’d been here to celebrate the milestone on their own, before joining friends at various parties the next night after the ceremony.

  “It was the first time I realized you were serious about going away,” he said. His expression was unreadable, but she sensed the blankness was practiced, a mask over his true feelings. “You were excited because that morning you’d bought a bus ticket to Los Angeles.”

  She smiled at the memory of those days when she’d been so young and enthusiastic. So naive and full of plans for her future. “I wanted to take the bus instead of a plane so I could see the country between here and California,” she said. “I thought it would be a great adventure.”

  “Was it?” he asked.

  She unwrapped her silverware from a paper napkin and arranged it on either side of the place mat, buying time to gather her thoughts. “It was an adventure, though not the kind I’d anticipated. I don’t think I’d realized what two days on a bus would really be like. And I hadn’t taken into account that an awful lot of the country between Crested Butte and Los Angeles is empty desert.” She smiled ruefully. “All the way across Utah, I sat next to a man who informed me he’d just gotten out of prison. He grinned at me like he was a starving man and I was steak. I was afraid to so much as close my eyes until he got off in Salt Lake.” The memory of her fear was as vivid as if it had happened only last week, yet she hadn’t thought about it in ten years.

  The waitress delivered their salads. “I take it you and Annie flew home this time?” Jack asked.

  Tanya shook her head. “We drove.” The cross-country trip with her daughter in the seat behind her and everything she owned packed into a trailer attached to the rear bumper of her car was another indelible memory that would stay with her to the grave. She’d been frightened during that trip, too, not so much by all the unknowns that lay ahead, but by the uncertainty of facing all the things she thought she’d left behind.

  If she was completely honest with herself, one of those things she needed to face was Jack. That, more than anything, was why she’d agreed to come with him tonight. “What did you do after I left?” she asked. “I kept expecting to hear from you, but I never did.”

  “Since you were the one who left, I thought you’d be the one to write me.” His eyes remained fixed on her, but they had an inward look, as if he was seeing not the woman she was today but the girl she’d been. “When you didn’t, I figured you were letting me know you didn’t need me in your life anymore.”

  The accusation hurt, but the truth there wounded her even more. “I guess in some ways, I was trying to make a clean break,” she said. “As soon as I arrived in Los Angeles, I saw how ill-prepared I was for the life I’d envisioned for myself. I thought if I was ever going to get what I wanted, I needed to remake myself completely.” She’d bought new clothes, adopted a new hairstyle, even briefly taken up smoking in an attempt to shed any trace of the naive small-town girl and assume the image of a savvy, experienced aspiring actress.

  “After you left, I realized how much I’d underestimated you,” he said. “Up until then, I thought we were so much alike, with the same dreams of the future.”

  She’d been pretty sure his vision of the future included marriage to her as soon as possible, followed by several children. If she wanted to work, it would be with him in the family business. As much as she’d cared for him, that image of their life together had felt suffocating. “I never meant to hurt you,” she said gently. “But I was looking for more out of life than you could have given me.”

  Their steaks arrived, and they fell silent, eating.

  “Did you find it?” he asked after a moment. “That ‘more’ you were looking for?”

  “I found some things. I had some great experiences. A wonderful child.”

  “But you still came back here.”

  Her stomach tightened. Even after all these months, she had a hard time talking about the biggest failure she’d ever faced. Being rejected for roles she wanted and her divorce hadn’t been as hard as admitting that all her big dreams had been out of her reach. “I finally accepted I was never going to be famous,” she said. “My marriage was gone. I needed to come home, to regroup and lick my wounds maybe. I owed it to Annie to give her the stability she deserves.”

  “What about Annie’s father?”

  “What about him?”

  “Does she see him? Is he involved in her life?”

  “Stuart was never that involved. I’ve encouraged him to call and visit her, but so far he’s been ‘too busy.’” She swallowed the rage Stuart’s carelessness sparked.

  “He’s an idiot,” Jack said. “Annie’s a terrific kid.”

  “Yeah, she is terrific. We talk about her dad and I try to help her understand his neglect is not her fault. Ian and my dad are good about spending time with her, so she has good, strong men in her life.”

  “You’re doing a great job.”

  “Thanks.” She was too moved to say anything else.

  But the tension between them had dissolved. They were able to finish the meal in a more relaxed atmosphere, talking about softball and Annie’s excitement over the coming school year and the impending theater production.

  “Did you find someone to play that part you asked me about?” he asked as they dawdled over dessert.

  “Angela talked Bryan into doing it.”

  “Has he acted before?”

  Tanya shook her head. “But I’m hoping for the best.”

  “I guess not everyone has your kind of talent.”

  “Thanks, but once I got to L.A. I discovered halfway decent actors were as plentiful as fleas.”

  “You’re not just ‘decent,’” he said. “You’re really good.”

  His praise—and the warm look that accompanied it—made her heart feel too big for her chest. “Thanks,” she said. “Glad to know I have at least one fan.”

  When they left the restaurant, they emerged onto quiet streets and air sharp with a chill that felt more like October than August. “Looks like that cool front they were predicting came through,” Jack said as he unlocked his truck and held the door for her. After she’d climbed in, he pulled a fleece-lined jacket from behind the seat and handed it to her. “Put this on to keep you warm until the heat
er starts working.”

  She draped the jacket over her like a blanket, the scent of wood shavings and campfires and a more subtle aroma that belonged to Jack filling her senses. It was as if the man had wrapped himself around her; the idea was unsettling. She and Jack were past trying to recreate what had been, after all, merely a childish infatuation.

  He drove to her parents’ home, and pulled the truck to the curb in front of the darkened house. “Thank you for dinner,” she said, shrugging out of the coat. “I’m glad we had a chance to talk.”

  “It’s good to have you back in town,” he said. “If you didn’t find everything you wanted in Los Angeles, I hope maybe you’ll find some of it was here all along.”

  He leaned over her, she thought to open her door, but his hand rested instead on her arm and he turned her toward him. “I probably shouldn’t ask, but I’m going to anyway,” he said. “One kiss for old times’ sake?”

  She realized she’d been anticipating this moment all the way home, if only to see if ten years had really changed so much between them. “All right,” she whispered, and tilted her face up to him.

  His technique had improved in ten years. Gone was the overeagerness of a boy, replaced by the assuredness of a man. His touch was firm and strong, yet overlaid with gentleness. He wasn’t forcing her acquiescence; he was waiting for her to come to him.

  She accepted that silent invitation, and surrendered to the moment, reveling in both the familiarity and newness of his touch. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, and she made no protest. She opened her mouth to him, thrilling at sensations she’d all but forgotten. Her lips tingled with the pressure of his lips on hers, and the rest of her tingled with a longing for more.

  When he finally released her, she almost cried out in disappointment but hid her dismay by fumbling for her purse and opening the door.

  “Thank you,” he said, the huskiness in his voice sending a shiver that had nothing to do with the chill of the night air dancing across her skin. “For everything.”

  She nodded, made mute by the confused emotions knotting in her chest. The kiss had been everything a woman could have wanted in a kiss—sweet, with a never-forgotten heat that had touched a part of her she’d thought had long grown cold.

  But did it really mean anything, or was it merely a brief exercise in nostalgia for two people who had moved too far apart in their lives to ever go back?

  Chapter Seven

  Jack hadn’t set out to kiss Tanya, but when he’d moved to open her door, she’d been so close he’d given in to the temptation that had been in the back of his mind all evening.

  The kiss had been different from those he remembered, not as feverish but more intense. He’d been less consumed by his own need and more aware of the woman in his arms—the feel of her skin, the scent of her perfume, the silken brush of her hair and the lush sweetness of her lips. He’d savored every second of that kiss, knowing it would probably be the last one they’d share. This whole evening had had a feeling of closure to it.

  Maybe that was why he’d asked her out in the first place—to learn the answers to the questions he’d asked himself for years. Why had she left him? Had she missed him? Had she ever really loved him?

  Tonight hadn’t answered those questions, but that might come soon. He and Tanya were talking again, communicating with more than words.

  Back at home, Nugget greeted him with his customary enthusiasm, the dog’s whole body wagging with joy as if Jack had been gone for weeks rather than only a few hours. He fed the dog a treat and settled onto the sofa, intending to watch a little TV before bed. But instead of sports or the late news, he reached for a box of old videotapes tucked behind the television set.

  He fed a tape into his VCR and moments later Tanya’s face filled the screen. This younger version wore her hair in a short, spiky cut, dyed dark brown. But the smile was the one he remembered, the one that had haunted his dreams for so many months after she’d left.

  “Super Burgers are super good,” she enthused. “And right now they’re a super value. So next time you’re super hungry, head to Super Burger for this super deal!”

  He hit the fast-forward button, until he came to an image of Tanya with slightly longer hair, seated at a bar, the short skirt of a shiny cocktail dress showing off her lean, tanned legs. To a dramatic jazz soundtrack, she refused one suitor after another, who offered drinks, theater tickets and even jewelry. Then her eyes lit up as a tall, dark-haired man approached. He offered a bottle of beer, which she accepted. Then she winked at the camera and purred, “Women prefer a Markson’s Ale Man.”

  In a series of commercials, Tanya touted the benefits of cars, cosmetics and toothpaste. As she matured and grew out her hair, the advertising gigs gave way to cameos in prime-time television shows and finally to her debut episode on the popular soap opera Penrose Valley.

  Jack hit the mute button and sat back, studying Tanya’s face as she walked onto the set of what would be her acting home for the next four years. She played the role of Caroline, the wild and unpredictable youngest daughter of family patriarch Addison Penrose. In that first episode, “Caroline” upset a formal family dinner with her unexpected return after five years in New York. She confronted her father’s current mistress, and began a torrid off-again, on-again affair with Lance Dupree, played by Stuart Olney, the man who would eventually become Tanya’s husband.

  The episode ended with a close-up of Caroline and Lance’s first kiss. Jack turned off the movie and the screen went dark. He’d never admitted to anyone that he watched Penrose Valley, but he’d followed the show faithfully from the day Tanya debuted until she left the show four years later. Seeing her almost every day had been both a pleasure and a pain. After all, what man could complain about watching a beautiful woman? But when that beautiful woman had professed to love you, then left you, seeing her so often had been like continually probing at a sore tooth.

  He tossed the remote aside and heaved himself up off the sofa. Enough brooding. He had to get up early tomorrow to get to work.

  In the bedroom, he emptied his pockets onto the dresser. As he dropped his change in the jar he kept for that purpose, his hand brushed a small wooden jewelry box—a gift from his mom one Christmas after she’d complained about the mess his meager collection of cuff links, tie tacks and a couple of watches made on his dresser.

  He opened the box and found a small brown velvet ring box. He lifted the lid and stared down at the tiny diamond solitaire on a thin gold band. The diamond was little more than a chip, but when he’d purchased it he had been as proud as if he’d scored the Hope Diamond itself.

  He’d had it in his pocket that night before graduation, when he and Tanya ate their celebratory dinner at the Wooden Nickel. He’d planned to ask her to marry him during dessert. He’d been sure she’d say yes. After all, she’d decided college wasn’t for her, and he’d already signed up to go to Western State in Gunnison. He had a job waiting for him with his dad, who had several properties he was remodeling around town where the young couple could live until they were able to afford to build their own home. Why shouldn’t they go ahead and marry now?

  But then she’d dropped the bomb about purchasing the bus ticket to Los Angeles. At first, he’d misunderstood her intent. “You mean you’re going out there on vacation?” he’d asked. “By yourself?”

  “No, silly! I’m going to live there. To be an actress. You know it’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  Yes, she’d talked about Hollywood and acting and becoming famous, but he’d never thought she was serious. Those were fantasies, like him saying he wanted to play pro basketball or make a billion dollars. Fun to imagine and talk about, but not real.

  His devastation must have shown on his face because she’d leaned across the table and touched his hand, her expression tender. “I’m going to miss you so much, Jack, but I can’t pass up this opportunity. It’s what I’ve dreamed of all my life.”

  And here he’d wasted so mu
ch of his life dreaming of being with her. He hadn’t heard her dreams—and she had been oblivious to his. He’d been too stunned to protest. He’d merely pocketed the ring and kept silent, telling himself the most loving thing to do was to let her go, even though he felt as if she’d stabbed him in the heart.

  He looked at the ring again. He didn’t know why he’d saved it except what else could he do with it? Any woman he decided to marry now would be insulted by such an obviously cheap ring when he could clearly afford better.

  He put the ring back in the box. Maybe he kept it to remind himself of the price of not really paying attention, and the cost of assuming he could ever know another person’s true feelings.

  Right now he didn’t even know his own feelings. Now that he and Tanya had cleared the air and he’d verified that she had no regrets about leaving him, that she hadn’t seen him as the great love of her life as he’d once viewed her, he told himself he could move on. He’d finally put that bit of the past behind him.

  But where to go from here? Tanya was back, and he was still attracted to her, more than he’d been to any other woman. Should he pursue that attraction? He had no intention of trying to pick things up between them where they’d left off. In fact, he’d approach her as he would any new woman in his life, with nothing serious in mind, just to see where things led.

  The idea pleased him, and he headed for the bathroom, whistling under his breath. He’d seen tonight’s date as a way to get some closure, but maybe that kiss had led to a new beginning.

  “THAT’S GOOD, Bryan. You’ve got the infatuated expression down pat, but you need to loosen up a little.” Tanya addressed her newest cast member after their first run-through at Tuesday night’s rehearsal. “Remember, this character is a bit of a fool.”

  “Being foolish goes against everything he’s trained for,” Zephyr called from the front row. He’d arrived at rehearsal on crutches, his ankle in an elaborate blue brace, and announced he was there to provide moral support. “Bry’s spent the last fifteen years perfecting his cool image.”