Take the Lead

by Alexis Daria

  Gina just nodded and bit her tongue before she blurted out that she hadn’t gotten the part yet. This was the strangest audition she’d ever been on, but if they wanted to act like she was already part of the team, that was fine with her.

  The writer explained the basic premise of the story, which would follow Meli’s rise to stardom, starting in the Bronx and ending with her Vegas show. The music director handed Gina a list of songs. About half were Meli’s greatest hits, and the others were new, written to advance the narrative.

  “The theme of the story is finding yourself,” Meli added. “And the cost of fame. It’s . . . not exactly a traditional happy ending.” She wiggled the bare ring finger on her left hand. “But it’s a universal story. And I’m happy with my life, so I guess it is a happy ending, after all.”

  After discussing a few more details with Brenda, the director, about staging and production, the music director finally asked Gina to sing.

  “If you have prepared songs, those are fine, but we’d also like to see how you do with some of Meli’s songs.”

  He passed her a sheet of paper, and Gina gave a strangled laugh. “Oh, I don’t need the words. I’ve sung this into my hairbrush more times than I can count.”

  When Meli beamed, Gina thought she would pass out. Instead, she took her spot, breathed like her vocal coach had taught her, and began to sing. And because it was a Meli song, and Meli was right there, she did a few dance moves, too.

  When she was done, Meli clapped and yelled, “Wepa!”

  They had her sing some more, and at one point, Meli got up to sing and dance along with her. Gina nearly died.

  The choreographer got involved then, and when she asked for Gina’s opinion on the moves, Gina almost wept with excitement. They were really serious about letting her put her mark on this show.

  Dream. Come. True.

  After they had her do a cold reading of parts of the script, Brenda called for a break. One of the assistants brought in water, coffee, and a fruit plate.

  Gina sat on the floor to stretch, and Meli came over and dropped down beside her.

  “You’re great,” Meli said. “We’re offering you the part. Hector will come over at some point and make it official, but I wanted you to know.”

  Excited tremors rumbled beneath Gina’s skin. “Thank you,” she said, giving the words emphasis in a vain effort to express the depth of her feeling. “I mean it. Really. Thank you.”

  Meli grinned at her. “This show is going to be a hit. I hope you’re ready.”

  “Oh, I’m ready.” It was finally happening. Everything she’d worked toward, for so many years. Her career was leveling up, faster and higher than even she, with all her big dreams, had imagined.

  And yet, excited as she was, something weighed her down.

  Probably exhaustion. She’d hadn’t slept on the overnight flight from Los Angeles, and she’d been going nonstop for days. The excitement would hit her later, after it all sank in.

  “How’s your partner?” Meli asked. “From The Dance Off. You guys filmed a live show this morning, right? I thought you might bring him with you.”

  Just like that, the excitement bubble popped.

  There it was. Not exhaustion or stress, but Stone. Missing him was like a lead weight in her gut.

  When she answered, Gina fought to keep her tone light. “He’s heading back to Alaska. His show is still filming.”

  Meli nodded like she understood more than Gina was saying, and she leaned in, lowering her voice. “I get it. It’s hard to nurture a relationship in this industry.” She gestured toward Hector and Brenda, who spoke animatedly over the script, and gave a rueful smile. “They’re debating whether or not to cast four different men as my husbands. Although for your sake, I suggested they cast one guy, and put him in different costumes and wigs. Then you only have to develop chemistry with one person, and the audience can bond with him, too.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.” Gina hesitated, then asked, “Is it difficult to put all that out there on the stage? To be open about your love life?”

  Meli leaned back on her hands and pursed her lips as she thought. Finally, she said, “Not as much as you would think. Is it embarrassing? Sure. But it’s my life. I’m not going to stay with someone just because of what the tabloids might say, and I’m also not going to hold back because of that same fear. You get me?”

  Gina nodded slowly. “I think so.”

  Meli had a point, but it was easy for her to say that now—she was an international superstar. Had she had the same philosophy when she was just making a name for herself?

  Gathering her courage, Gina asked, “Do you wish it had turned out differently?”

  With a shrug, Meli looked her dead in the eye. “No. I followed what was important to me. Would it be nice to have a partner to share all this with? A family? Sure. And maybe it will happen, someday. I’m an optimist. But I went after what I wanted, and I got it.”

  The fame. Yes, Meli had the fame. She’d made it big, and lived life on her own terms. Bronx Girl was Meli’s creative vision, and although she was letting the professionals do their jobs, it was clear who was in charge here. Everything about it was inspiring.

  But there was a sadness in her eyes when she talked about her failed marriages. And when Gina read the script in the taxi on her way to the Bronx, her heart broke each time one of Meli’s relationships combusted. Four times she’d tried, and four times her marriages had exploded spectacularly. The men left, and Meli was alone. But she still had her career—the fame, the fortune, and the fans.

  Maybe Gina shouldn’t have asked Meli if she wished it had turned out differently. Maybe a better question would have been, was it enough?

  * * *

  Every time Gina walked in the door of her mother’s apartment, she was welcomed by the smell of home, a mix of the lemon-scented cleaning polish used on the old wooden furniture, the homemade rose potpourri in decorative bowls on the windowsill, and the sofrito used so often in traditional Puerto Rican cooking.

  She still had keys, so she let herself in and dragged her suitcase through the living room and down the hall to the second bedroom, the one she used to share with her brother and sister. After storing her luggage by the wall, she flopped onto the twin bed, covered with a quilt made by her great-grandmother.

  The toll of being awake for a day and a half pulled her under. Before she passed out, her phone buzzed with a text from her agent, Penelope.

  How many press stops should I book for you?

  Ugh. This was about The Dance Off. She’d won, and everyone was going to want to talk to her. She typed her response before she could talk herself out of it.

  None. I need a break. Gonna stay with my family for a couple days.

  Are you serious? You need to maximize your face time to stay in the viewers’ hearts and minds—and those of the casting directors.

  She didn’t bother to reply that she’d already lined up her next gig. Tossing the phone aside, Gina settled her head onto the pillow. Yeah, she knew all about the planning, the timing, the exposure. She just didn’t care. What did it matter? They’d only want to ask her about Stone. It would be painful. She didn’t have an answer. And if that was the most interesting thing about her . . . what was she even trying to do? What was the point?

  For three years, her goal had been to win The Dance Off. Now she’d done it. It was the ideal time to turn that win into opportunities. And while she was thrilled with the Bronx Girl job, she couldn’t drum up the enthusiasm to run around making all the others happen. It was hustle. It was work. She was tired.

  And okay, she was lonely, too. She missed Stone. She missed strategizing with him and explaining her thought processes. He always wanted to know the why behind her decisions. Not to question her, but to better understand so he could help.

  She’d lost her why. Whatever had driven her all this time was gone. She’d wanted to win The Dance Off, thinking it would fulfill some need. But she sti
ll needed. She didn’t feel fulfilled.

  What was missing?

  Stone.

  No, it couldn’t be that simple.

  * * *

  Gina woke with a start when her mother entered the room.

  “Oh, I didn’t know you were sleeping.” Benita backed out of the door. “I’ll let you rest.”

  “No, Mami, it’s okay.” Gina rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”

  “Five. I left work early, because I knew you’d be here. Sleep if you need to sleep.”

  “No, I’ll get up. That was a good nap.”

  “I bet you needed it.” Her mother sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into a hug. “I missed you, mija.”

  “I missed you, too.” And because it was her mom, and mom hugs beat out all other hugs, Gina let the tears come.

  Benita gasped, then hugged her tighter. “¿Qué pasó, Gigi?” she asked, resorting to Gina’s childhood nickname.

  Gina sniffled and wiped her face. “You know.”

  “I don’t, because you haven’t returned my calls all week. You only texted, and ignored my questions about that boy.”

  “‘That boy’ is what this is about.”

  “Stone? The one you kissed?”

  Gina let out a weepy laugh. “I’m so freaking embarrassed about that.”

  “Why?”

  Gina was saved from answering by the sound of keys in the front door. A second later, her sister Araceli’s voice floated down the hall.

  “Knock knock! Anyone home?”

  “Aquí,” Benita called.

  Araceli appeared in the bedroom doorway. “Gina, are you crying?”

  Benita answered for her. “Sí. We’re talking about that man she kissed on TV.”

  Groaning, Gina covered her face with a pillow.

  “Yeah, I was curious about that.” Celi joined them on the bed and snatched the pillow away. “Spill it.”

  Gina huffed out a breath and pulled her knees up to her chest, explaining in a few brief sentences what had occurred with Donna and the kiss footage.

  Araceli and Benita exchanged glances.

  “Where is Stone now?” Celi asked.

  “At this point? Probably on a plane back to Alaska.”

  Another shared glance.

  “I’m right here, you two. Stop talking about me with your eyes.”

  “I have a few more questions before I judge you.” Celi held up a finger. “First of all, what’s the real deal with you and Stone?”

  “We . . .” Normally, Gina didn’t mind talking about men with her sister. Granted, their mother was there, too, but still, Gina was at a loss for words. “We were kind of seeing each other?”

  “You were sleeping together.”

  “Oh my god.” Gina flopped back onto the bed and covered her face. “Yes. We were.”

  “Gina, I know you’re a grownup,” her mother said.

  “Mami, could you please just not?”

  Araceli scoffed. “Get up and stop acting like a child. If I wanted to deal with kids right now, I’d go find my own.”

  Gina sat up. “Where are they, anyway?”

  “At Abuela’s house. Don’t change the subject. How do you feel about Stone?”

  Fuuuuuck. “Um . . .”

  “For real, Gina. No bullshit.”

  Gina rubbed her eyes again. “I think I was falling in love with him.”

  Silence.

  When she looked, her mother and sister were staring at each other with wide eyes, raised eyebrows, and pursed lips.

  “Hey, what did I say about silent eye conversations?”

  Araceli shook her head. “Sorry, but this is a first. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use the word ‘love’ about a guy before.”

  “That’s because I haven’t.” Gina’s gut twisted at the thought of what she was losing, and her lip wobbled in response. “This thing with Stone wasn’t like anything I’ve ever felt before.”

  “And he doesn’t feel the same way?” Celi asked, her tone gentling.

  “I don’t know. He said something about falling for me.”

  Celi slapped her forehead. “Are you kidding? Men don’t say stuff like that unless they mean it.”

  “He knew how I felt about having our . . . relationship or whatever it was . . . be public. He should have told me what he knew.”

  “Why, so you could obsess about it like a lunatic?”

  Gina glared at her sister. “No, so I could have convinced Donna not to show it.”

  “How?” Araceli’s gaze took on a challenging light. “You’ve told me all about that woman. What if she had completely disregarded your wishes?”

  “I’d have gotten my agent involved.” The argument was remarkably similar to the one she’d had with Stone in the kitchen. The opposing viewpoint sounded more rational the more times she heard it.

  “And then what? If Donna didn’t back down, would you have quit when you were so close to winning?”

  “I didn’t know I was going to win,” Gina shot back. “I don’t want my personal life being put on display. Who knows what it will make people think of me?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I do care. Remember that thing with Ruben?”

  “Fuck Ruben.” Celi dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “You’re in the big league now. Ruben is small time. Besides, you were—what? Eighteen?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Mistakes made as a teenager count as life experience. Learn the lesson and move on.”

  “I did learn the lesson. Never get involved with someone I’m working with.” And never get involved with someone who wouldn’t stick around.

  “Nope, that’s not the lesson. The lesson is don’t date selfish assholes.”

  Benita nodded wisely. “That is the lesson.”

  “Besides, it wasn’t even that big of a deal. The kiss was shown, and what happened? Nothing. You still won.”

  “But I didn’t want that to be the thing that made me win. I wanted it to be my talent and skill as a choreographer, and—”

  “Bullshit.” Celi jabbed a finger in Gina’s face. “That’s ego. And you know that’s not how The Dance Off works. Fame and personality play a huge part. The bottom line is that it was helping you before the kiss was even shown. You and Stone have what Kevin and Lauren didn’t. Real chemistry, real personality. I know everyone and their mother loves Kevin, but he’s a fake-ass plastic doll. Sure, he’s funny and nice and all that, but he’s fake. There’s something going on there behind that good ol’ boy surface that I don’t trust.”

  Gina sighed. “It doesn’t matter anyway because I didn’t want all this. I didn’t want to fall in love with someone—anyone—right now. Or ever. Especially not someone who lives in the middle of nowhere. I have too much work to do to build my career, and a man will only get in the way of that.”

  “Esperate.” Their mother held up a hand. “Is this because of me and your father?”

  Gina pressed her lips together, but she was helpless to remain silent under the pointed stares of both her mother and sister. When she answered, her voice came out quiet and ashamed. “Yes, it’s because of Papi.”

  “Oh, mija.” Her mother pressed a hand to Gina’s cheek. “All this time, you’ve been carrying this around? The idea that a man will get in the way of your career?”

  “It’s what happened. You would have had a great singing career if not for Papi. And then he left.”

  “You can’t know that. Success is a fickle thing, and the entertainment industry isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Don’t forget, I agreed to give it up. He didn’t force me.”

  “Have you ever regretted it?” Even asking, Gina felt small and young. It was something she’d wondered forever, and part of her had always wanted to build her career higher and stronger so her mother’s sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

  “Not at all.” Benita shook her head. “My family is the greatest gift I’ve ever been given. Success isn’t everything, mija.�
��

  Gina chewed that over. “I still want it, though. Is that bad?”

  “Not at all. You’re allowed to want what you want. And you’re allowed to want all of it, even the stuff you think you shouldn’t want, or can’t have.”

  Her mother pulled her into a hug and whispered in her ear, “He’s not your father, Gina. Not all men leave. And even if he does, you’ll survive.” She got to her feet and tapped Araceli on the shoulder. “Come help me with dinner.”

  Before Araceli left the room, she looked over her shoulder. “How did the audition go?”

  “Hmm?” Lost in her musings, Gina had forgotten all about it. “Oh, it went well. They offered me the lead role.”

  Celi nodded and gave her a thumbs-up. “Rock on.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  On his first day back filming Living Wild, Stone managed to smash his thumb in the door of his room at the Glacier Valley Inn. After his fingernail started turning black, they had to stage a similar event at Nielson HQ to explain it. That same day, he fell over the side of the boat—not staged—and was knocked out with a nasty sinus infection for a week.

  Sliding out of bed, he stumbled into the bathroom. His fever had finally abated, but he still felt like hell. He took a piss and splashed cold water on his face, which wasn’t the best idea. Shivering from the chill, he tottered back to bed and rolled up in the blankets.

  Horrible as he felt, he was glad he’d gotten sick, because he had no fucking desire to return to Living Wild. He’d never wanted to do this stupid show in the first place. But, like always, his family had needed him and he’d set aside his own desires to help them.

  At the time, he hadn’t expected it to last. It was a stupid idea. Who’d want to watch a bunch of yahoos living in the woods? He figured he’d be back to his old life in Juneau within a year.

  Or so he’d thought. Inexplicably, the show was a hit, and their contracts had been extended.

  After the fifth season, though, his current contract would be up. He just had to finish filming this one, and then get through one more . . .

  No. He couldn’t do it.