* * *
I gather a small section of the fabric on the skirt as I walk up the red-carpeted steps of the Plaza Hotel on Friday night. I’m in shoes my size. Shoes I bought for myself—my own Louboutins. I wanted to have something I chose for me, even though I can’t fault Davis for his taste. It’s impeccable.
A man in a black jacket with gold piping stands elegantly by the roman columns, then quickly reaches for the door and opens it for us with a grand gesture.
Shelby and I walk inside the luxury hotel and I’m immediately assaulted with images of Eloise, and The Great Gatsby and the history of this icon of New York City. I imagine all the other men and women, in evening dresses and tuxes, who’ve walked through this lobby as we do, across the polished tiles on the floor, the red leaf pattern on the carpet, and through the French doors of the Palm Court to the Terrace Room just beyond.
An attendant takes our coats, and Shelby gives me another once-over, shaking her head in admiration.
“If I had your body I’d wear a Herve Leger form-fitting bandage dress too,” she says.
“Oh stop. You have a perfect body. You’re a Broadway baby, just like me. We have to look good,” I say playfully.
Naturally, Shelby begins humming Lullaby of Broadway, and I join in, but then our little rendition fades out as we head into Terrace Room. I’ve been to The Plaza. I’ve had high tea in the Palm Court. I even stayed in this hotel one night with my mom when we went on a shopping trip when I was a little girl. But I’ve never entered this room as a guest at a formal event, and the word awestruck takes on a new meaning.
Soft light from crystal chandeliers bathes the opulent room in a warm glow. The walls are lined with replicas of Italian Renaissance style paintings, while the archways that ring the main floor bring majesty to this jewel of a room. Steps on each side lead up to another level that wraps the main area so you can stand at the railing and watch the mingling, the dancing, the champagne-drinking, and all the beautiful people below.
We walk down the steps, and I spy all sorts of Broadway star wattage, from my idol Audra McDonald to one of my favorite actors of all time, Michael Cerveris. There are producers and agents, choreographers and music directors, and of course, the money men and women who make the shows go round. I even spy Joyelle Kristy, a rising film starlet who played a leather-clad superhero in a hit film and is said to be on the hunt for a juicy theater role so she can follow in Scarlett Johansson’s footsteps.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
I turn and it’s Reeve. He told me he’d be attending when we worked out yesterday morning.
“Hey gorgeous,” I say, and give him a quick kiss on the cheek then introduce him to Shelby. Reeve is joined shortly by Sutton Brenner, the casting director and the woman who stole his heart.
“So good to see you again, Jill,” she says in her crisp, British accent, and leans in to give me cheek kisses. “How’s everything going with Crash the Moon? We’re so excited for opening night, and I know you’re going to be the best one in the whole show.”
“Well, I’m only in the chorus.”
She blows air through her lips as if to dismiss the thought. “That’s where all the stars begin, my darling. And I have no doubt yours will be the brightest on all Broadway. I can’t wait.”
“Do you ladies need a beverage?” Reeve suggests, and tips his forehead to the bar. We follow him, and I want to tease him that he’s now flanked by three women but then I see Davis talking to a woman with dark hair and a fabulous figure, and his hand is on her elbow and I’m about to get all territorial, until I realize they have the same cheekbones.
She must be his sister.
But I don’t spend much time appraising her because he’s so sexy and so sophisticated at the same time in his tux and I swear when I see him in it, I know that tuxes were made for men like him. My blood heats as I look him over, and even from across this spacious room, with all these people between us, and the piped-in show tunes playing overhead, and the twinkling lights, I can’t help but want to be all alone with him. I have to wonder if he can feel the pull through the crowd, if he can sense that I’m here wearing the dress he picked out for me. Goose bumps rise on my skin as I remember the last time I walked into a public place, and he looked me over as if he would only ever have eyes for me. I lick my lips briefly at the memory, and it’s then that he happens to look up from his sister and notice me. He raises an eyebrow ever so slightly and shoots me a quick grin, but then returns his attention to her as I make my way to the bar.
“So isn’t that great that he’ll be coming back to New York soon?”
“Hmm?” I ask, when I realize Shelby’s been chatting with me the whole time as we weave through the sea of Broadway beautiful and benefactors alike.
“My boyfriend. From Los Angeles. Hello, earth to Jill?”
I shake my head, as if I can quiet all these thoughts of Davis. I tell myself the curtains are rising and I am shedding myself and becoming a character. Tonight I’m playing the part of someone who has supreme focus on her friends, not on the man across the room who’s slowly, carefully, wonderfully hooked his way into her heart.
“That’s awesome. I’m sure you’re totally psyched,” I say.
“He’s going to concentrate on his commercial work and voiceovers for a while since pilot season didn’t pan out.”
“That’s too bad about pilot season, but it’ll be nice for you to see him,” I say, and then Reeve turns around and hands me a champagne glass. The bubbles tickle my nose, but it tastes crisp and light.
Then I can feel a tingling in my neck, and a quick ribbon of desire has been unspooled in me. For the briefest of moments, fingertips graze the exposed skin on my back from the V in the dress. But then they’re phantom fingers, and they’re no longer on me. I turn around, and Davis is at the far end of the bar, his back to me, as he chats with Michael Cerveris.
How does he do that? Just set me aflame with one touch? I down the rest of my champagne and Shelby gives me a wide-eyed look.
“I’m thirsty,” I say. “I need another.”
“You go, girl,” she says, “Besides, I see Jane Black setting up over there for her set. I worship the ground her high-heeled boots walk on, so I need to go kowtow.”
“She’s pretty rocking,” I say, referring to the singer who just won a Grammy for an absolutely epic breakup album she wrote. Reeve and Sutton are engrossed in each other’s company, so I squeeze past a gray-haired man in a double-breasted suit and snag a spot near the end of the bar so I can people watch.
“I’d love to go see your band,” Davis says to Michael in his smooth and friendly voice. “Heard great things about Loose Cattle. Great name for a band, by the way.”
I smile privately as Davis talks to actors in his professional demeanor, and I feel like I have a delicious secret because I know all the other things he says. I know how sexy his voice is when he tells me how to touch myself, I know how it goes low and husky when he’s taking my clothes off, I know how he can be sweet and tender when he’s tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and asking to see me again.
I know how he sounds when he’s not the director.
When he’s not the man in the tux.
When he’s not this incredibly powerful presence in the world of New York City performing arts.
I know how rough and hungry he gets when he’s desperate for me to want him as much as he wants me.
“Absolutely. Next Thursday, I’ll be there,” he says, then he shakes Michael’s hand, and turns to me. “Oh, by the way, Michael. Do you know Jill McCormick? She’s the understudy for Alexis in Crash the Moon.”
Michael takes my hand and gives me a quick peck. “Alexis?” he raises an eyebrow. “My condolences,” he teases. “But it’s a pleasure to meet you, and may she give you no trouble at all.”
“Good to meet you as well,” I say, avoiding my least favorite topic—Alexis.
“And on that note, I should go prepare for my song with Ms. B
lack.”
“A duet with Ms. Black? How lucky can we possibly be?” Davis says to Michael, as if they know something I don’t.
Then Michael says a quick goodbye, and it’s just us at the bar. Well, us and five hundred other people. But he’s the only one I notice.
“I knew you’d look stunning in this dress,” he says casually as he surveys the room, standing side to side with me, so he’s not looking at me. He’s playing by my rules, acting as if we’re two colleagues who happen to be checking out the human scenery at this gala. He speaks as if he’s saying something as mundane as nice weather, but that’s why it’s such a turn-on, because it’s our secret. “And the slit up the side could come in handy.”
I bite my lip, so I don’t start breathing loudly from all these excruciatingly delicious feelings racing through my bloodstream and turning me all the way up. I try to gather myself, to play it as cleverly as he is.
“Yes. You never know when you might have to run,” I fire back, as if the quip can help me regain the equilibrium, but then I’m face to face with him and it’s as if all the air has been sucked out of the room and everything stopped, and no one is moving, and it’s just us. I want to run my hand across his face, and play with the collar on his shirt, then smooth out the lapel. I want to slide my hand inside the jacket, touch his back. I want to mark him, so everyone knows this man is taken. This man is mine.
For a second I can’t breathe when the realization hits me. How much I want him to be mine.
“Don’t run on me,” he says in a casual voice, but I know there’s real meaning beneath it.
“I won’t.”
He takes a step closer. “I fucking want you so much,” he whispers in a rough scrape, and heat surges through me, centering between my legs. I’m sure my cheeks are turning that rosy pink that lets him know I feel completely the same, and I’m about to inch closer to feel more of this heat, when I see another blonde approaching him. It takes me a few seconds to place her, but when I do my veins turn to ice, and I’m sure my mouth is hanging open.
She’s so gorgeous, and she’s so poised. With perfect cheekbones, deep brown eyes that could melt any man’s cold heart, and the body of a Victoria’s Secret angel she stops at Davis, and flashes a classy smile.
“What a delight to see you again, Davis.” Then before he can even respond, she leans in and gives him a kiss on the cheek. I’d love to peel her off of him, but I’m too shocked to say anything, too embarrassed to even move.
“Madeline,” he says coolly, as if he’s completely unsurprised to see her.
“I just arrived in town two days ago to start rehearsals for the Steve Martin play.”
He nods. I seem to recall her being cast, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. Then he introduces me, and it’s as if I’m having an out-of-body experience, because everything about this moment is completely surreal. Davis, introducing me to the woman he was once in love with. The actress he fell hard for. The one person who singlehandedly broke his heart. I’m split between the desire to throttle her for hurting him, and the bizarre wish to thank her for leaving him so that I could have him now, three years later.
Instead, I simply go along with the pleasantries, shaking her hand. It’s a lovely hand, a soft hand, but I still feel as if I’m touching an eel, because it’s her hand. She shoots me a gorgeous smile and it’s almost enough to seem real, but I can tell it’s her red-carpet smile, her professional smile. That’s all. Nothing more. She doesn’t even say nice to meet you. Her focus is only on Davis, yet she’s not looking at him as a former lover. Instead, she seems all business.
“Have the Pinkertons got in touch with you about…” She pauses and shifts her eyes to me as if she doesn’t want to say what it’s about, and I get the message. She doesn’t want me around for their work conversation. “Because I think it sounds like a brilliant idea.”
“Yes, they have.”
“Well?”
I’m so agitated right now that I need to make an exit. “Oh, look. I see my friend Reeve. I need to catch up with him about where we’re running tomorrow.”
And I walk away, pushing past other people. A tiny bead of sweat slides down my spine, and I doubt it’s because I’m hot. It’s more because I’m embarrassed. She’s the woman who wrecked him. She’s the reason he didn’t want to date me. She’s here, and she has something private to discuss with him.
I bump into Alexis.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re here?”
“Honestly. Now is not the time, Alexis. So don’t even start with me.”
I continue on, looking for Reeve or Shelby, but I don’t see either of my friends. So I figure a bit of fresh air would do me good. I eye the doorway and count down the seconds till I reach it, like I’m finishing a marathon, when Davis’ sister cuts me off. It’s like I’m being cornered everywhere I go.
“Hi. I’m Michele Milo,” she says and extends a hand. First Madeline. Now Michele. Women connected to Davis everywhere I turn. It’s like whiplash. I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to attend this event.
“Hi Michele. I’m Jill. I’m in the show.”
“I know who you are,” she says, and then she rests her palm against my arm and it’s a strange gesture. But she tips her forehead to the stairs, suggesting we’re to head up to the second level. I go along with her.
“Listen, I know how my brother feels about you.”
“What?” I don’t have to act confused, because I am. I’m surprised he’d talk to anyone.
“You have to know that he’s the most important person in the world to me. The last thing I want is for him to be hurt again. So if you’re not serious about him, if this is some kind of career move, if you’re going to use him, then please, I’m asking you woman to woman, to leave him now.”
I feel like she just dropped from the sky, like she's some sort of benevolent superhero, because there’s something kind in her voice. Kind, but determined.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“If you care about my brother at all, please think seriously about what you’re doing,” she implores me. “I don’t want him to go through that again. He doesn’t do anything halfway, Jill. He doesn’t do his job halfway, and he doesn’t do relationships halfway. He’s nothing or he’s all in. So unless you’re there with him, unless you’re all in, please get out before you hurt him.”
I glance over at Davis and he’s still with Madeline. We’re too far away for me to guess at what they’re saying, but he’s not trying to get away from her, and he’s not looking for me.
“I don’t want to hurt him. I care about him. But he’s with her right now.”
Michele narrows her eyes. She looks like she’s about to bum rush Madeline and tackle her from behind.
Then a loud voice fills the room. “What an honor to be here tonight.”
Michele and I turn to the small stage to see Jane Black with a microphone in hand. “I’m still waiting for my chance to star in a Broadway musical, so any of you big name producers, just call me up. Nah, I’m just kidding. I’m all about the singing, and tonight we have a very special song for tonight’s event. Have you all heard of this musical called Once?”
The crowd cheers its answer, and Michele claps half-heartedly too as she scans the room for her brother. But he’s no longer with Madeline, and my heart goes cold with the possibility that they could be alone together.
“I thought you might have,” Jane continues. “Would anyone want to hear Tony Award winning Broadway star Michael Cerveris, who originated the role of Tommy, sing a bit of "Falling Slowly" with me?”
The room erupts into a chorus of yeses.
“Well, you should all grab a girl, grab a guy, grab a friend, and dance.”
Then Michael joins Jane on stage. He has a guitar slung around his chest, and begins plucking the first notes from the romantic song first made famous in the movie before it became a musical. The notes pierce me, even in the midst of all this strangeness, o
f Michele’s protective warnings, and Madeline’s appearance out of nowhere and now two gorgeous voices stamp out all the confusion and I feel the music doing what it does. Touching me, even though I don’t want to be affected by anything right now. As Jane’s gorgeous voice fills the room, Michael’s beautiful baritone layering into hers, I see Davis walking toward me. Purposefully, deliberately, with a sly little grin on his fabulous face. He walks up the steps and finds me with Michele.
“Michele. I’m going to need to take Jill away from you right now.”
He turns to me and offers his hand. “Dance with me.” He holds my gaze with his deep blue eyes and says it with such tenderness that I simply nod a yes. He takes my hand, and pulls me away from his sister, and soon my hands are on his shoulders and his are on my waist.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Why do you think? Because of her.”
“It was about work. The Pinkertons are considering doing a movie of World Enough and Time and they approached me about directing, and they’re talking to Madeline about reprising her role.”
“Do you want to do it?”
“I’m not sure. That’s what Madeline was asking about with me. She was trying to convince me, but I’m not entirely sure I want to go back to something I’ve already worked on.”
“Was she convincing?” I ask and I can’t hide the jealousy.
“Are you jealous?”
“Yes,” I say, letting my irritation show. I want him to know that I don’t like her being around. He’s mine.
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“Say it, Jill.”
I sigh heavily, then manage to get the words out. “Because I don’t want anyone else to have you. Just like how you feel about me.”
He lowers his voice more, his words only for me. “Nobody else has me. Nobody else will. Nobody else can.”
I close my eyes for a moment. There are too many warring emotions in me, battling with each other. “Your sister told me to stay away from you,” I tell him, because I know he loves his sister, but I want to know too that he disagrees with her directive.
Playing With Her Heart Page 19