by Unknown
I understand his concern. I have been watching the clock slowly tick the day away, and Michael has called more times than I can count to make sure I’m leaving at exactly three.
“We’re going!” Mary shouts back as we rush toward the door.
“Mary, I can’t thank you enough for driving me home. I don’t think I can deal with the bus system today,” I say, throwing my purse over my shoulder.
“You know Jack wouldn’t let you get on that bus today if it were free,” Mary says, opening the front door.
“Wait!” Jack shouts as he rushes over and gives me a bear hug. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I haven’t gotten the part yet, Jack.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re going for it, and to me, that’s what counts. Nothing good in life happens without action. Besides, I already know you’re going to get it.”
“You do, huh?”
“I do. Remember, I’ve heard you sing,” Jack says with a proud smile as he releases me.
“I’m so nervous.”
“That’s normal,” Mary says with a wink. “I always say a little nervousness never hurt anyone.”
Jack quickly glances up at the clock on the wall above the counter. “You’re sure Michael will be at your place by five thirty to take you over there?”
“Stop worrying. Michael will be there, and the location is less than a twenty-minute drive away.”
“Well, if he can’t make it for some reason, Mary or I will come. We’ll stay here until you call and tell us he’s there. We can get over to your place in less than ten minutes if need be.”
“He’ll be there, and if he’s not, I can hop on the bus. You and Mary go home, and I’ll call you once my audition is over. Please, Jack.”
“Nope. We’ll stay right here until five, and that’s the way it’s going to be.”
“You are so stubborn.”
“I’m not stubborn, just firm.” Mary and I both look at him until he relents. “Okay, maybe I am a little stubborn,” Jack admits as everyone steps out from the kitchen to wish me well.
“Here goes nothing,” I say, waving to everyone as Mary and I scurry out the door.
Chapter Twenty-four
Michael knocks on my door at five-fifteen.
“You’re early,” I say as I close the door behind him.
But he’s not listening; he’s staring at me with wide, dark eyes. “Wow.”
“What?” I ask, rushing to grab my purse.
“That dress is stunning on you.”
“I’m glad you like it because you’ll see it again. I bought it to wear to meet David and Michelle tomorrow.”
“You trying to get their baby to marry you? Because David is already hitched,” he says with a coy smile.
I tug at my dress. “Is it too much?”
“No, I’m just kidding. It’s perfect. I love it, and I can’t wait to see it on you again tomorrow.”
I notice an envelope in his hand. “What’s that? Don’t tell me it’s another jar of Vaseline.”
He hands the envelope to me. “Funny. It’s something for you to give the director.”
I open it and pull out a photo of me leaning up against Michael’s car.
“This is amazing,” I breathe.
“You can write your details on the back and use it as a headshot.”
I feel tears welling up as I look at it. “I’ve never seen myself like this.”
“I told you that you are beautiful. Now you can see it for yourself.”
“That sounds like the lesson you wanted me to learn at Marco’s.”
“If it worked, why not use it again? That’s my motto.”
I hug him. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
“Glad you are finally drinking your own Kool-Aid and liking the flavor.”
“That’s a good way to put it,” I say. “It sounds like something Jack would say.”
“My mother used to tell me that,” he says, leaning over and kissing me.
“What was that for?”
“Nothing. I’ve been waiting to kiss you all day.”
“Is that right?” I say, easing out of his arms so we can get going.
“You don’t believe that I think about you when we’re not together?”
I see the concerned look on his face as he waits for my response. “It’s just weird to know someone other than Jack and Mary is thinking about me.”
“I’m glad that I’m in such good company, but I hope that you think about me as well.”
“I do. Too much, probably.” I glance down at my watch. “We need to get going.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
“I just need to grab one thing,” I say as I rush over to my kitchen table and grab the resume that Mary typed up for me earlier, sliding it into the folder along with my photograph. “I feel so professional. Although I’m afraid the director is going to look at this and just see that I have no experience.”
“The part is for a jazz singer, not an actress. So the focus is on what you do best: sing. Who knows? You just might surprise yourself and turn out to be a great actress by the time it’s over.”
“I doubt it,” I say, firmly closing the door behind us.
“Stop doubting yourself,” Michael says as we make our way down the stairs.
“That’s a hard habit to break,” I say just as we reach his car.
“But one that you need to break,” he says as he opens my car door. “Just remember that you can do anything that you put your mind to. I believe in you, but that means nothing if you don’t believe in you, too.”
“I’ll get there.”
I slide into the passenger’s seat, but Michael’s words linger well after he closes my door. It wasn’t that long that ago that Jack said something similar.
You’ve got to do better. I pull the photograph out again and stare at it. That’s you, girl. Dark and—dare I say—beautiful.
“This is the first time I’ve seen my mother in my eyes,” I say.
Michael gives my hand a quick squeeze and then gets us on the road. As we come to a traffic light, he asks, “What song are you going to sing for your audition?”
I barely hear him as I continue to stare at the photograph.
“You still living over there?”
I jump like I’ve been pinched out of a dream. “I’m sorry.”
“You nervous, or just thinking about something else?”
“Both.”
“You want to talk about the ‘something else’ that’s on your mind?”
“Not right now.”
“I understand. In that case, I asked what song you think you’re going to sing.”
“‘Blackbird.’”
“That’s a good one. I think Nina Simone released it in 1963.”
“I didn’t realize you knew so much about her.”
“I knew a little, but since she’s your favorite, I went to the record store and the guy there told me about her whole career.”
Could this man get any better?
“I wish I could come in and hear you sing it. I want to be there to support you.”
Yes. Yes, he can.
“Maybe they will let you sit in the back.”
“I wasn’t sure how you would feel about it.”
I reach over and place my hand on the back of his neck. “I want you there.”
“You keep rubbing the back of my neck with those warm hands of yours, and I’ll have to pull this car over and kiss you again.”
I remove my hand, and we both laugh. “Then let me stop, because we can’t be late.”
Chapter Twenty-five
The director doesn’t look anything like the person I had imagined when I met Francine.
Amelia Lang is tall, size two slim, and her h
air is cut in a neat bob that touches the base of her neck. With honey-colored skin, high cheekbones, five-inch stilettos, tailored pants, and a matching cream silk blouse, she looks like she belongs on a runway rather than in a director’s chair.
I’m glad I wore this black dress.
Michael and I take a seat in the back of the auditorium as I watch Amelia give an actor feedback on his audition. Her voice is kind, but it also doesn’t leave room for you to miss her point. Everyone listens—not because she’s the boss, but because she makes you feel like you are the boss, too.
I spot Francine in a pair of jeans and a pink blouse. Her fiery red hair is pulled up into a bun and she waves at me as Amelia begins offering feedback to another actor.
“This is intense,” Michael says as Francine makes her way toward us.
“Mýa, so glad you made it. Are you ready?”
I stand up. “Is it okay if my boyfriend waits for me here?”
She looks at Michael and smiles. “I’m sorry, but we don’t allow anyone inside except those auditioning.”
“Understood,” Michael says, quickly standing up. He kisses me on the forehead and then exits the auditorium.
“I’m sorry about that,” Francine says as I fidget with my dress. “Did you bring a resume and headshot?”
“I did, but my resume doesn’t show that I have any experience,” I say, holding the envelope tightly in my hands.
Francine tugs on it until I get the hint and hand it over. “The director is looking for a voice that can bring this musical to life. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think your voice could do that,” she says, placing the envelope under her arm. “You’re going to do fine. Just sing for her the same way you did for me.”
“I can do that,” I say as I follow her down to the front.
“I know. Like I said, that’s why you’re here. Amelia, this is Mýa, the young lady that I met at the Goodwill.”
Amelia extends her hand to me. “I listened to your voice on Francine’s little recorder. More importantly, I want to hear more.”
“Thank you for the opportunity to audition,” I say, trying not to squeeze the mess out of her hand as I shake it.
Amelia pulls her hand away gently and smiles. “Relax. I’m sure Francine told you that I’m looking for natural talent. You’ve already shown that you have that; that’s why you’re here. Now I just want to see you under the lights and get a feel for your presence on stage. Okay?”
“Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll get it together, I promise.”
“You’ll feel better once you’re up on the stage,” Amelia says as Francine pulls my headshot and resume out of the envelope and lays them on a table next to us. I just stand there, smiling like an idiot.
“That’s your cue to head on up, Mýa,” Francine says patiently.
“Right. I’m sorry.”
I make my way to the center of the stage as Amelia and Francine take their seats behind the table. A young man comes up and takes a seat at the piano that’s off to the stage’s side.
“What are you going to sing?” Amelia asks as she glances at my headshot.
“‘Blackbird.’”
“Perfect. You can start when you’re ready.”
I inhale slowly and then turn to signal the pianist.
Just let go.
As I exhale, I open my lungs and allow the music to guide me. The lyrics of the song float through the air, bounce off the old walls, and then come back to me just when I need them. They pull at my heart, beg me to let go. And I listen.
The piano blends in with my voice and pushes me to sing with a passion that surprises me. The rich melody whispers something that only I can hear. It tells me not to be afraid.
And for the first time, I’m not. For the first time, I feel myself drinking my own Kool-Aid, as Michael put it, and loving the flavor. I open myself up to a life that seems to have chosen me.
As I bring the song to an end, I’m struck with the idea that, whether I land this part or not, tonight, here on this stage, I have done something great.
Chapter Twenty-six
I find Michael in his car with the seat back. He’s fast asleep, so I tap on the window and watch him slowly open his eyes.
“So?” he asks as I put my seat belt on.
“They said they would call tomorrow if I got the part.”
“How do you think you did? Wait, don’t answer that. I already know,” he says as he drives out of the parking lot.
“No, you don’t,” I joke.
“Yes, I do. I know you killed it, and I know that they will be calling you back because they would be crazy if they didn’t. And for the record, that director didn’t look crazy.”
“She was beautiful,” I say as I lean back in my seat.
“She was okay.”
I give him a wry smile. “Whatever. You know that woman was beautiful.”
“I was listening to how she spoke more than anything.”
“Yeah, I was impressed by that, too.”
“But, yes, she was beautiful,” he says with a sly smirk on this face.
“What am I going to do with you?”
“Go to the park?”
“Now?”
“I know it’s late, but I want to show you something.”
“Okay, but we need to find a pay phone first so that I can call Jack and Mary. I know they won’t go to bed until they hear from me.”
“You can use my cell phone. I picked it up this morning. It’s a Nokia, and it cost me a fortune, but I need it for my business. Frankly, I’m tired of using those pay phones to call a client back every time my beeper goes off.”
“I didn’t know that you have a beeper. Makes you sound fancy.”
“I hate it, to be honest. I leave it at home because David made me promise that I wouldn’t bring it on any date that I had with you because of the whole ‘I work too much’ thing. I’ll be sure to give you the number to my phone and my beeper tonight.”
“I think I’m really going to like this David. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“They’re excited to meet you as well, and the baby has his ring ready.”
“That’s right. My future husband.”
“You got jokes tonight. I like it.”
“Where’s the cell phone?” I ask, excited to try it out.
“In the glove compartment.”
I open his glove compartment and pull out a black phone that when you flip it open, you can see all the numbers. “I don’t even know how to use this thing.”
“Just enter the phone number you want to connect to, and then hit the green ‘talk’ button. When you’re finished speaking, hit the red ‘end’ button. Then flip it back down.”
“Okay, here goes,” I say as I carefully enter in Jack’s number.
“It’s not going to bite,” he says as he glances over to find me gingerly holding it to my ear.
“Keep your eyes on the road, mister. I’ve got this. I think.” I jump when I hear Jack’s voice come through the speaker.
Michael bursts out laughing.
“You got it, didn’t you?” Jack asks confidently, as if it wasn’t even a question.
“I don’t know yet, but they will call those who got parts tomorrow.” Omit: “So, if they call, then I assume that means I got it.”
I can hear Mary in the background, yelling that she knows I will get it.
“Why does it sound so windy?” Jack asks.
“I’m calling you from Michael’s cell phone. He just got it today. We’re headed to the park now.”
“I see. Well, I know those things run by minutes, so we won’t keep you. Have fun tonight, and don’t come in tomorrow.”
“Jack, tomorrow is Saturday—the busiest day for us. Not to mention that I had last Saturday off.”
&nb
sp; “So, now you’ll have had two Saturdays off in a row. We’ll survive tomorrow, so stop worrying. Just let us know the moment you hear anything.”
“I will.”
“Good night, kiddo.”
“Good night, Jack.” I hit the red button to end the call, flip the phone closed, and then place it back in the glove compartment. “Well, it looks like I have tomorrow off.”
“Even better. I don’t have a house showing until ten. We can hang out all night.”
“Not all night.”
“At least until the sun comes up,” Michael says, another sly grin on his face.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Cars are everywhere when we pull up to Piedmont Park.
“Wow, I’ve never been down here, and I certainly never knew it got this busy on a Friday night. How are we going to find a parking spot?”
“A client of mine works here. I sometimes come early in the morning to take photographs. He lets me park in the employee lot.”
“That’s nice,” I say as we turn into the employee parking lot and quickly find a good spot.
“It is, although I haven’t been here in a few months. And before you ask, I haven’t brought another woman here in years.”
“I wasn’t going to ask.”
“But you were thinking about it.”
“No, I wasn’t,” I say. He looks at me skeptically until I cave with a shrug. “Okay, so maybe I was thinking it a little.”
“What am I going to do with you?”
“You could kiss me,” I suggest.
“You don’t have to ask me twice.”
“I hear music,” I excitedly say as we get out of the car.
“They have concerts all the time, and I know the perfect spot to sit and listen to them.”
“Lead the way,” I say, slipping my hand into his.
Ten minutes later, we come to a bench that’s off the beaten path and surrounded by trees with branches so long that they look like they can reach out and hug you.
“You’re right; this is a perfect spot.”