The Dividing Line

by Victoria H. Smith

Lacey

  “You know he’s a little older,” Betsy said, crossed-legged next to Dara on the stage.

  “Yeah. Twenty-five,” Dara paused, leaning in. “And I read he once dated a Kardashian. Before any of them were married and had babies, I mean.”

  I shook my head, sipping my herbal tea out of my covered mug. The two ladies had been buzzing about Jason Harrison nearly all morning, and the information only increased the closer we got to his arrival at our first group rehearsal today. I knew his favorite color, what movies he was into, and every other little detail about him the girls had probably dug up from gossip sites. I probably knew more about Jason Harrison than he knew about himself. I was trying not to think about who he was or his established career. It would only get me more nervous, and since I had to sing in front of everyone today, I didn’t need the added pressure.

  “He’s also a quarter Japanese,” Dara added. “On his mom’s side.”

  Betsy pursed her lips at that tidbit. She nudged me. “Explains that beautiful skin.”

  I simply nodded, opening my script, and Betsy and Dara both huffed at me. I shrugged my shoulders. “What?”

  Betsy took a hair tie out of her pocket, resting it in between her teeth as she bunched up her lengthy blonde hair. “You should be more excited about this,” she said, tying her hair up.

  “Yeah. Taken or not, Lacey, that man is sex on legs. You can’t deny that.” Dara pointed an acrylic nail at me.

  “He’s just a man, ladies,” I said to them. One that was famous and apparently dated Kardashians, but he was still just a man. “And actually, I’m kind of wondering about why he was cast.”

  I had no doubt that Jason would be perfect in the show. His extensive body of work pretty much guaranteed that. I just wondered how on earth the British star ended up in our small production. True, we had a successful run, but successful enough to attract talent like him?

  “Why would someone like him even be interested in our show?” I asked the ladies.

  “Don’t question it. Just be grateful for it.” Dara sighed, staring dreamily into the rafters.

  These girls were something else.

  “Have you told Drake about him?”

  Betsy’s question took me by surprise. “He knows. Why?”

  She shrugged. “Well, he’s a superstar. Any guy would be intimidated by that.”

  Her surmise had me chuckling. “Drake’s not like that. Besides, I worked with Shawn, and he had absolutely no problem with that.”

  Dara flipped her silky hair over her shoulder. “Shawn was openly gay, sweetie.”

  “Regardless. It’s no big deal to him,” I said.

  Their attention was taken from me as the chatter increased around us. I turned. Jason was here.

  His dark, button down shirt was pushed up at the sleeves today; his silky hair tied back, revealing his deep-set eyes. He chatted with Madame, the two making their way to the center of the set-filled stage.

  The ladies hopped to their feet, quickly joining the small crowd that surrounded our director and new co-star. I wasn’t as quick, trying to mentally prep myself. I would not be intimidated. I just had to forget that he was an international superstar and dated Kardashians.

  He’s just a man. He’s just a man, was my mental mantra as I joined the rest of the cast. Jason acknowledged my presence when he glanced my way, a ghost of a smile hanging once again on his lips.

  “Good seeing you again, Lacey. How have your private rehearsals been going?” he asked, his diction precise and laced with his British accent.

  All eyes went to me for the second time while being in this man’s presence, and I froze. I wasn’t used to freezing like this, my mind going completely blank when speaking to someone. Dara swept in. “She’s great. She was just saying how excited she was to start working with you.”

  Though I felt this way, I never said such a thing. Dara was a gem for saving me, and her comment sent a smile to Jason’s lips.

  “I’m quite excited to work with you too,” he said, focusing deeply on my eyes as he spoke to me.

  A bouncy brunette shot him a question, and his attention went in that direction. Madame Duvall quickly ended the fan girl assault by telling us all to take our places for the start of the rehearsal.

  “He’s just a man, huh?” Dara winked, nudging me before leaving toward stage right with Betsy by her side.

  *

  After our rigorous full cast rehearsal, saying I was tired was an understatement. Madame Duvall had us perform the entire show front to back more than once, only stopping to nitpick the big numbers. Since I was in over half of those, I was thoroughly spent. My voice was stripped to hell, and I was quite achy, my limbs sore and twitching with spasms from the constant movement. My overall fatigue felt ten times worse than it ever had after a rehearsal, but the vacation and the terribly long day could be blamed for that. We were at it for at least twelve hours. Madame wasn’t lying about how hard we had to work to make sure the production changes were implemented properly. I didn’t mind, though. This was what I loved, but I had to admit it was hard. Especially, being opposite superstar Jason Harrison. He was leagues ahead of us all in talent and overall performance level. His background was definitely proven today. I had to be on top of my game to work alongside him, and that thought alone had me at the piano that night after rehearsal, working into the evening to perfect my pitch and overall singing ability.

  My assistant, Sophie, found me in the small playing room that night and offered to make me a fresh pot of herbal tea. Since my throat was worked, I accepted. She placed it down and stepped back with her hands at her waist.

  “Can I get you anything else before I leave for the evening, Mademoiselle Douglas?” she asked.

  I bent my head, making notes on a measure of my sheet music. “No, Sophie. And remember it’s just Lacey.” I looked up at her and smiled.

  She nodded once then left me to my music.

  After a quick sip of tea, I went back to work. I sung a new number, a ballad my character sung after meeting her prince. I’d had problems with it today and wanted to get it down pat by tomorrow. It tested my range, straining at it, and I couldn’t seem to get quite up to the note I needed toward the end of the song. In a huff, I sat back, dropping my hands from the keys of the piano.

  “If you take a short breath before that second to last measure, you’ll reach it,” came a low voice from the side of the room.

  I turned from the piano. Jason stood at the open door, leather messenger bag slung on his arm. I didn’t know what to do. I seemed to always embarrass myself when we were doing anything but acting together. I stayed silent, and he nodded ahead, motioning for me to continue what I was doing.

  That I could do.

  I put my hands on the keys, flowing the soft notes into the empty room. Along with them, I paired my voice, working up to the part that had given me problems. Just before I reached it I took that breath he advised, and just like he said, I reached it just fine.

  I smiled, pulling back from the keys. I faced him again. “Thank you.”

  He dipped his head of dark hair. “You’re welcome.”

  The air went silent between us. The environment felt a bit awkward because of it, and he turned his head, seeming as if he was going to leave. I leaned forward. “Wait just a moment, Jason.”

  He turned back.

  I pointed to the sheet music. “Do you want to work on our final song? I know it’s been a long day and continuing to work is probably the last thing you’d want to do, but I’d really love your help on this one line—”

  “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”

  He came into the room, joining me by the black piano bench. He placed his bag down, and I scooted over so he could sit beside me.

  “I, uh, hope I wasn’t imposing on you a moment ago,” he said, gazing down at me.

  I had known he was one of those individuals who had a deep stare. It was as if he stared through me rather than at me. It showed his atte
ntiveness while at the same time showcasing his confidence.

  I kept strong eye contact this time, letting him know his co-star was just as attentive and confident when spoken to. “No. It’s fine. I welcome help. I know I’m not perfect, and I’m definitely not too proud to accept it when it’s offered.”

  He smiled at that, and I gestured to the piano for him to take the lead.

  He stretched out his long fingers, moving them delicately over the keys like a concert pianist. His part was first, so he started the piece. His voice was low, yet light at the same time. It also had a gravelly tone to it, an edge that commanded attention. Jason made it quite easy to aim for the best; be great. His musical ability was far superior to mine, but I wasn’t intimidated by it. I was more inspired by it. We exchanged parts, handing them off to the other fluidly. I thought it might be difficult with a new partner, but it turns out the adjustment was just fine. We got to the part that I struggled with earlier, and I breezed by it, my voice not faltering at all. He came back in, and the combined duet began. His husky, low voice complemented the soft, airy pitch of mine, and I’d never heard my voice come out so great. Turns out the two of us worked pretty well together.

  He lifted his hands from the keys. By the small curve up of his lips, I could tell he believed the same. “It sounds like you didn’t have any trouble with that at all,” he said, turning toward me.

  I laughed. Reaching over the white and black keys, I bunched up my sheet music. “It seems working with you has brought out the best in me.”

  He lifted his hands in protest, settling them on his lap. “I take no claim for that. You sing very well, Lacey. I can see why you were chosen for the lead. Where else have you performed? I’d love to dig up your body of work.”

  I placed the music on my lap, shying away from him a bit. “I’m very much a novice. A girl from the West Side of Chicago who got lucky at her first major audition.”

  He leaned back. Crossing his leg at the knee, he tilted his head. “Luck has nothing to do with it.”

  God, I was so bad at handling recognition. My face felt like I’d dunked it in lava at this point. I decided to push on so I’d forget about it. “What about you? Roles with Academy Award-winning directors? That surely can’t be luck.”

  He chuckled lightly. “Life has definitely treated me well. Especially in regards to this show. I was so happy to hear that the role opened up. I’d been dying to work with Christine again, but was busy shooting Red Thief at the time of the original casting.”

  So the two had some kind of history. That made sense now why he was on a first name basis with her. “When have you worked with Madame before?”

  “She gave me my first big break here in Paris. I started in operas in the UK and heard about an open call in Paris. I auditioned and Christine took a chance on me. It was a simple chorus role, but I was noticed by a film director when the show went on tour. A lead fell ill, and I was the understudy. The director offered me a private audition for a small film here in France. I got the lead and things just snowballed after that. I worked mostly in Europe, but I’ve done some projects in Japan.”

  Something quite similar happened to me just last year. A lead fell ill in the show I was working on, and I performed her role. It was crazy how one event could change your life. I looked at him. “I didn’t know you did work in Japan.”

  “I did. I had some featured roles in a few television dramas. They call them J-Dramas over there. They’re very similar to soap operas in America and can be seen in many different genres. Have you seen any?”

  I shook my head. “Can’t say that I have. They sound great, though.”

  “I really enjoy them. Maybe I could show you one sometime.”

  His proposal took me by surprise, and I blanched at the sudden invite, not really knowing what to say.

  He simply smiled at me. “We can make an event of it. Invite a few others in the cast. Do you all hang out?”

  My heart stopped the thudding I didn’t know it was doing, feeling silly for thinking his proposal was something it wasn’t. “Yeah. We hang out. We’ll have to figure out a time. I bet Betsy and Dara would love to see them too.”

  Those girls would lose their minds for an evening alone with Jason.

  “Yes, we’ll have to figure something out. Christine has kept us all pretty busy. I was actually surprised to see you here tonight. I thought I was the only workhorse who stayed after rehearsals for extra practice,” he said, grinning slightly.

  I laughed. “Extra practice never hurts.”

  He tilted his head, smiling. “I guess we’re quite the pair.”

  I lowered my head a bit, but lifted it when he stood, grabbing his bag.

  He slid the bag on his arm. “Let me know if you ever want to run lines or work on anything. I don’t mind the extra practice. Nice working with you tonight.”

  “You too, Jason.”

  He turned and left me in the room alone. I would definitely ask him about running lines. If we were both here every night anyway we might as well work together.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Drake

  I shook my head at the text from Lacey.

  Hey, baby. I’m going to have to do another rain check on our chat tonight. Rehearsals have really been killing me, and I don’t want you to have to stay up. I’ll talk to you soon. I promise. Love you!

  This was the third one this week. I felt like I haven’t talked to my girlfriend in days. I pocketed my phone, trying not to be bothered by it. This was why she was in Paris, and I needed to deal with that. No matter how much I didn’t like it.

  I resumed what I was doing at the front desk, reorganizing my space for what seemed like the umpteenth time. I was so on top of my work these days I had nothing else better to do. I gazed behind me as Troy, Derrick, Sam, and Jermaine came from the back. They were wearing basketball shorts and nudging each other.

  Derrick stopped at the desk along with the crew, tucking the basketball he held under his arm. “Hey. We’re playing tonight over at the Y. You want to head over with us?”

  Jermaine went to the door and crossed his arms. “We’re already playing with Kendrick and Bone. We got enough guys.”

  Derrick turned, cocking his head to the guy glaring by the door. “We can make room for one more.” He faced me. “Drake?”

  Jermaine’s disdain for me had pretty much been tattooed on his face since I got here. Honestly, I didn’t give a shit what he thought about me, but I decided to decline since I didn’t bring any spare clothes. “I’m just going to head home. Rain check, though.”

  “‘Aight, dude,” he said, giving me a shake. “Stay easy.”

  I tipped my head. Derrick left, making sure to give Jermaine his own glare and a good shove before he exited. The rest followed, and I was left to close alone.

  Closing was easy. I was always on top of my tasks so I didn’t have to do them at the end of the day. After I did, I headed to the bus stop in front of the garage. Standing there, I felt pretty frickin’ pathetic. The courts were within view of the stop, and I was forced to watch all the guys play and have a good time while my only plans for the evening were X Box and a T.V. dinner.

  The bus came down the street, and when it stopped in front of me, I found myself waving it on. I bet I could purchase some playing clothes inside so I could join the guys. They probably had a gift shop or something.

  I made my way into the wide establishment. After getting a guest pass, I wandered around, looking for the gift shop. The diversity around the building took me by surprise. Since living on the West Side, I’d been surrounded by mostly African Americans. But here, there were also many Hispanics, Asians of Middle Eastern and Eastern descent, and many others. I felt I blended in for once instead of standing out.

  The sign for the shop was just ahead, but I was distracted by the long stretch of glass I passed. The aquatic center was right behind it. I overlooked the large kiddy area with splashing toddlers and kids to gaze at the Olympic sized
pool. By the time I made it to the gift shop, I ended up buying a pair of swim trunks instead of basketball shorts. I didn’t know why I did this, but I figured the answer out very quickly after I changed and stood at the end of the only free lane in the pool.

  I dropped my towel and Aquafina I purchased at the gift shop by a lowly pink water bottle left at the start of the empty lane. After that, I streamlined into the pool without thought. That’s when I got my answer as to why I was in here and not outside playing basketball with the guys. The minute I hit the water, I felt a familiarity, a sense of home. Swimming was always how I dealt with the bullshit at home. The animosity I felt for my father’s lack of acceptance and the countless nights I’d spent arguing with my mother over it. When I was in the water there was no sound or thought, just the rushing water flowing past me, canceling all my stress. I didn’t have to be ‘the good son’ of the Senator here. I didn’t have to be anything at all. It was just the pool and me. I didn’t realize how much I appreciated the mental mind block. The numbness of it all. Being out of my head for a while, not worrying about bills or money, not thinking about Lacey and how much I missed her, was a much-needed relief.

  I came up to the surface, gliding through the water into a freestyle stroke. I did a flip turn when I reached the end of the lane, and after that, I didn’t stop until I got in two hundred meters. I checked the time on the Y’s pace clock when I completed the laps and was pretty disappointed. I should have been able to do better. I guess since it had been almost a year since I was swimming competitively it wasn’t terrible. I grabbed my water bottle and chugged, turning to watch the clock again. I was sure next time I could beat what I just did. I’d try again when the time reached the top of the clock.

  “This lane was saved,” said a light, agitated voice behind me.

  I swallowed what I had in my mouth, capping the bottle. Thinking about the pink bottle at the end of the lane when I got there, I rolled my eyes. “I’m sorry, but a water bottle isn’t a suitable way to reserve a lane.”