Derrick smirked, closing his locker. “Yeah. The Y. As in YMCA? Like the song?”
I rolled my eyes. “I know what the YMCA is, smartass. I just didn’t know it was referred to as the Y.”
He slapped his hand on my shoulder. “Just checking, man. Hey, you ever been? The guys play basketball there all the time after work. You should join us.”
“Nah. I never have. I’ll think about it. It’s been a while since I played. I’m more of a swimmer myself. Our team actually made it to state my senior year.”
“They have a pool at the Y, too. Don’t know if I’ll be joining you there. Brother can’t afford to get his hair wet.” He framed his hair. The dude had less than an inch of growth.
Chuckling, I checked my watch, but my face fell at the time. “Gotta go. I’ve got a bus to catch and public transportation doesn’t wait for anyone. I learned that the hard way this morning.”
Derrick simply laughed at that, his deep voice fading away as I breezed out of the back room.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lacey
A long baguette, some sharp cheddar, and a bowl of fresh fruit had pretty much been my friend since coming back to Paris. That and the television. Doing anything else required leaving my flat, which risked the odds of having to speak to the locals. I was reminded of my first weeks in Paris again, the ones where I was very much alone; so nervous I’d have to speak to people and not knowing the language enough to communicate properly. Many people knew English here, but that was equally embarrassing as trying to use my limited French. I was in their country, forcing them to speak my language since I didn’t know theirs fluently. I didn’t want to be that ignorant American, so I stayed put in my flat. My permanent stay only reminded me of the reason why I was glued to my upholstered sofa. The reason why I didn’t make more of an effort to learn the language here. My lifeline. My ally.
I missed my Drake. His deep laugh and heartbreaker smile. I missed his choppy black hair. His mahogany eyes and how they hooded sexily when his large, tan frame blanketed mine under my sheets, bringing me pleasure. He always made sure to do that; bring me pleasure first before his own. I even missed how he used to leave his clothes all over his place, and I’d have to clean them up. I always complained to him, but I never really minded.
The time I’d been away from Drake had been brief, but it felt so long already. Especially with the time difference. I was ahead of him by quite a few hours here and that made communication difficult. Drake worked full-time so he could only chat when he got off, and that made for late night phone conversations for me. I, of course, didn’t mind, but he did. He felt guilty keeping me up. This left us passing Facebook messages and sporadic texts in between our tricky phone schedule. I had a lot more time to chat than he did since rehearsals hadn’t started yet, but I didn’t want to be that girl blowing up my guy’s phone with texts. This long distance thing was already killing me.
Betsy and Dara, two of my friends from the show, bugged me about coming out with them to clubs or shopping a couple times. But whenever they asked, I found myself not feeling up to it. Eventually, I caved in to being social and they came over. They weren’t there long before my humdrum attitude alerted them something was off.
“Drake’s gone. He went back home to Chicago.” I sighed.
“Oh,” they said conjointly that night.
After some comfort food and our own private screenings of “Phantom of the Opera” followed by “Carmen,” the girls concluded that I simply needed to get back to work. If I didn’t have so much free time to think about Drake, then I wouldn’t be so down. Margot had agreed when I called her.
“Lacey girl, you have way too much free time,” she’d said. “You need to be back onstage. That… and probably a good lay. Since you can’t get the latter with only the assistance of a B.O.B. (battery operated boyfriend), you’re going to have to settle for the former. You’ll be fine once you’re back out there again.”
My face went warm after she’d said that. Drake had been supplying that part during our late night phone conversations. They’d never start out that way, but eventually they’d turn nasty. One deep, husky “Lacey…” and I was done for, panting and breathy with the receiver to my ear. One night after a particularly raunchy conversation, he’d inquired about how I was, and of course, I couldn’t lie to him.
“I miss you so much, baby,” I’d admitted that night.
The response to my words was a sigh.
“I miss you too, Lace, but you have to keep your head up. Things will be better once you start work again. Easier.”
And now, I officially felt pathetic. Even he was dealing with our separation better than I was. So with that, I woke up the morning of our cast meeting with a new attitude. I was ready to work. That’s why I was here in Paris, to live my dream, and I wasn’t going to let my mama or myself down. She’d always wanted this for me, and I refused to disappointment either of us.
Most of the cast was at the theater already when I arrived; all seated around a large table in the back meeting room. I received hugs from familiar faces I didn’t realize how much I’d missed. I really did need this. I’d missed this. These people had become my second family, and I loved each one of them.
I got Betsy’s then Dara’s attention when I maneuvered to their side of the table. The two girls waved me to take the seat between them.
“Lacey, you look so great,” said Betsy, hugging me before I took my seat. The tall blonde towered over me, her legs looking even longer in a pair of stripped leggings.
The raven-haired Dara nodded to Betsy’s comment. I turned in my chair to hug her. “You must be feeling better,” she said, squeezing me.
I actually did. Everyone was right. I just needed to be back in my element.
“A lot of that I owe to you girls.” I nudged them both. “Thanks for the opera fest and company the other night.”
Dara pushed me a nudge back. “Of course.”
“You’d do the same for us.” Betsy winked a set of lengthy lashes surrounded by shimmering eye shadow. She was the trendy one amongst the three of us.
Dara bent and plopped her purse on the round table. She divvied out the three pens she found in it. “To make notes on our new scripts.”
I uncapped mine. “Do you think there will be a lot of changes?”
Dara shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m prepared for anything with Madame Duvall.”
The serious director had been known for making cuts to numbers or lengthening some of them. We were always forewarned and given ample time to adjust to them though. The show we’d started when we were all originally cast was quite similar to the one of the final performance, so I didn’t foresee any drastic changes ahead.
“Speaking of changes,” Betsy paused, bringing her voice below the light chatter in the room, “notice how many new people we have here? Not just that, but how many people are missing.”
Now that she’d said something, the room definitely sported some new faces. I’d been so distracted by the ones I knew that I hadn’t noticed, and the new arrivals about matched the number of people that should be present in the room.
“Carl, Luke,” Betsy continued, naming off some notable chorus members. “Shawn.”
My eyes widened in reference to my romantic lead. He wasn’t here. “Do you think he’s just late, or left the show?”
The girls’ faces were blank, the answers unknown to them. The room went quiet, and we all panned to the front of the room. The director herself had arrived. Madame Duvall stood at the head of the table, many years of theatrical professionalism emanating off her that commanded respect.
“Bonjour, everyone,” she said, taking a seat. “I hope you’ve all had a wonderful vacation. As you have probably noticed, there are lots of new faces in the room.”
We all gazed around, smiling our acknowledgement to them.
“Some of the previous performers have left to pursue other opportunities or had established commitments and could n
ot continue with the production. We wish them all the best. Of course, the show must go on, and we’re very happy to have casted such an excellent group of talented actors and actress in their leave. On behalf of the entire production, I’d like to welcome you all to our theatrical family.”
Madame Duvall then took the time to introduce the new cast and crew members. The changes in regards to the actors were mostly in the chorus line, but there were some significant roles that had some change-ups. I was excited to work with them. I definitely welcomed change and considered myself a very open-minded person. Madame Duvall still hadn’t mentioned Shawn’s role. He wasn’t here nor was a replacement named. I assumed she’d mention that soon enough though.
My personal assistant, Sophie, came in with Shawn’s assistant by her side. His name was Kevin. Together, the two served coffee to the room. I made sure to quickly ask how she was before she and Kevin escaped the room and came back with our scripts. She set mine down, and I had to force the shock from registering at what I saw inside.
There had to be at least five new songs, and that was just with my initial thumb through. Not only that, but there were countless new scenes and pages of new lines for me. I had my work cut out for myself since the show was, of course, in French and all dialogue was sung.
“As you can see, there are quite a few changes here,” Madame Duvall said, adjusting her reading glasses as she studied her own director’s version of the script. “New scenes have been added, as well as several songs. My colleagues and I are very excited about these changes and hope you’ll love them just as much as we do. I won’t lie to you, my friends. Implementing these will take a lot of work. Expect long days and rigorous rehearsals ahead. We have a limited amount of time before the shows continue, and we want this show to be the best it can possibly be. I believe this cast will not only be capable of making these changes work, but also excel far above production standards. You’ve produced a highly successful show so far, and I predict the future will only be bright.”
Just then, Sophie scurried in. She bent to Madame Duvall’s level. “Monsieur Harrison has arrived, Madame.”
I exchanged glances with Betsy and Dara, an unspoken question between us.
Who’s Mr…?
A tall gentleman wearing a tan trench coat walked through the door, taking the attention of the entire room. He pulled off his sunglasses, his dark, silky hair looking a bit windblown as he gazed about the room. He had quite distinguished features. The subtle curve of his eyes and the slight bronze tone to his evenly tanned skin hinted at a mixture of races. Possibly East Asian or even Middle Eastern amongst them.
The man spotted Madame Duvall and greeted her, a bright smile on his face as he slipped off a black glove to shake her hand.
“My apologies, Christine, for being late,” he said, his voice heavily accented with a proper edge. He was an Englishman. “Bad weather flying out of the UK.”
Again, the girls and I exchanged glances.
Our director nodded at the new arrival, setting her hand on top of his. “Of course, Jason. We understand.” She faced the room. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet someone. As you all know, Shawn Harper was our previous Prince Philip. Unfortunately, he will not be continuing with us. He’d already committed to a show in the U.S. prior to our show being extended. His casting as the dashing prince has aided tremendously to the success of this production. He will be greatly missed, but I can think of none other who would be able to rise to the high bar Mr. Harper set than this man before you today. He’s an international model and a seasoned actor both on stage and off. The star of several notable television dramas and films in the United Kingdom,” she paused, tapping the man’s hand. His response was a modest smile. “And, coming this summer, the major motion picture Red Thief by Academy Award winning director Jonathan Sterling, which this director herself thinks will be making him a household name quite soon in the West. I present the talented Mr. Jason Harrison.”
The room applauded, as did I. This guy had a resume that made us all look like novices. Dara pulled my hand during the applause, her jaw dropped as she flashed her phone at me.
“Look who he’s worked with,” Dara whispered, not that anyone could hear her. The room was ecstatic with excitement at the announcement of our new Prince Phillip.
I studied her phone, and the list of A-list celebrities and high-profile directors his name was linked to had me loosen my silk scarf so I could breath. Jason Harrison had definitely done this acting thing before.
“Christine…” Jason eyed her.
Madame Duvall simply shone her wide smile. “Jason, allow me to gush about you. You deserve it for all you’ve accomplished. We’re so very happy to have you here.”
Shawn’s personal assistant—now, Jason’s—placed out a chair next to Madame Duvall’s for Jason. The actor shrugged out of his long trench coat, revealing a black dress shirt and matching skinny tie. The shirt tucked at his narrow waist into a crisp set of trousers. The inhale of breath of the ladies surrounding me didn’t go unnoticed.
“You’re so lucky, Lacey,” Dara whispered.
At my name, Madame Duvall took notice of me… and Jason. The curve of his lips lifted, revealing a deep dimple.
“Jason, I’d like you to meet your co-star, Lacey Douglas. She plays our delicate ingénue Lady Gwendoline.” Madame Duvall gestured to me.
“Hello, Lacey.” His eyes were heavily trained on me when he said it, a depth in his gaze. “It’s very nice to meet you. I look forward to working with you.”
My awareness that the entire room’s eyes were on us blazed heat over my face. I parted my lips to greet him properly, but for some reason, I couldn’t manage it. I frankly remember muttering a “you too,” but I was so embarrassed about being put on the spot I couldn’t confirm that. The attention of the room eventually went back to Jason as our director continued gushing about his accomplishments.
“So lucky,” Dara whispered again.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Drake
“I’m so tired tonight, baby. I’m sorry. Our new rehearsal schedule has been taking a lot out of me.”
I could hear the fatigue in my girlfriend’s voice. I really could, but that didn’t stop the disappointment that we couldn’t chat more… intimately tonight. I wouldn’t let that reflect in my voice though. She was tired, and I understood. I plopped down on my bed, the ache in my feet from standing at work all day battling that of when I worked at the museum. “It’s fine, babe. No big deal. How are things at the opera house?”
She’d given me a few updates since she went back to work, but as she said, she’d been busy and our chats hadn’t been lengthy the last few days.
“So great. I’m happy to be back. The new cast is nice. I haven’t really worked with them yet. My private vocal lessons are priority to Madame. I’m joining the main group soon though.”
She did mention she was doing private lessons in our last conversation. This was very reminiscent of her pre-show training when she first got to Paris. All the Americans and English speakers in the show were given the use of a singing coach that could help them with the script. The coaches translated and helped them understand the meaning of what they were singing.
Lacey continued on and told me about how she was doing with all the changes that were made to the show. All the vocal work she was doing sounded tough, but she seemed excited about it. I had to smile at the glee in her tired voice. This was the Lacey I remembered, and I loved hearing her so happy.
“The new stuff is challenging, but it’s great so far. I can’t wait to hear how I sound with Jason. I haven’t gotten to work with him yet. He seems really nice. I’m sure we’ll work well together.”
My ears perked up. I didn’t recognize that name. “Jason? Is that a new choreographer or something?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you? Shawn isn’t continuing with the show and Jason replaced him. He’s been training in private sessions too, but we’ll finally get to sing together at the
main group rehearsal.”
I lay back down, deciding not to give the guy much thought. I was aware Lacey had to perform with a romantic lead, but it was never a problem for me in the past. Though maybe that was because her former co-star was openly gay… I shook my head. There wasn’t a point to being jealous in this situation. Lacey was nothing but professional and gave me no reason to think otherwise. I trusted my girlfriend completely.
Our conversation ended shortly after that, and I was proud of myself.
I didn’t let on how much I missed her, or how lonely and cold my bed had been without her, and… my fear that I’d made the wrong decision by leaving her. Being my father’s son instilled in me one of his greatest talents: the ability to lead people to believe you were feeling one way when you actually felt another. I told Lacey not too long ago that things would be easier for her once she got back to work, and I was happy that was the case. But for me, I couldn’t say the same about things getting any easier with our separation. My days had become pretty routine. I’d wake up, head to work, and then come home. This was quite similar to my life in Paris, but the difference was I had Lacey. Here, I was on my own. Bored with nothing to do with my free time until I heard from her. I’d actually been working some overtime shifts—both days and nights with a long dinner in between. Just for something to do really. I’d talk to Lacey on my breaks then it was back to work for three more hours.
My life here made me think about what Lacey said to me before she left Chicago. About not letting myself do what I’d been doing my whole life. She was right. I did always coast along. I just kind of went with the flow in life without having any goals. I spent my parents’ money, partied, and didn’t really give a shit about anyone or anything.
And that included myself.
I didn’t really think about what I actually wanted out of life. Maybe it was time that I did.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Dividing Line Page 15