“Maybe for April Fool’s Day, I’ll doll you up like Hedwig,” Sylvia teased. “We’ll see how little Miss Max likes that…”
“Don’t make me laugh—I have to get my mind in character,” Drew chuckled over his words. As much as Maxine adored her gaggle of gay men, she didn’t want to see her own boyfriend in drag.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it. See you back here at intermission,” Sylvia said, as she stood in the doorway, readying to leave. “Break a leg, Mack.”
“Thank you, Sylvia…”
Staring into his own blue eyes, Drew gripped the arms of the make-up chair and pulled in a shaky breath. Opening nights were always wrought with a combination of excitement and tension. He craved the thunderous applause, but there was no guarantee that he’d be on the receiving end that night.
The critics were out in full force, as Sunset Boulevard was considered the biggest opening of the fall season. The press just thrived upon troubled shows. Given that they’d lost their star well into rehearsals, the buffet was already set for the possible feeding frenzy in the papers the next day.
The truth of the whole matter sat heavily upon Drew’s shoulders. He was thirty-two-years-old, heading into his fifteenth year of professional work on stage, and he had to have a hit. While Drew loved nothing more than stepping out on the boards and losing himself in another world, he couldn’t delude himself. He wasn’t getting any younger, and soon the romantic lead roles would dry up for him.
He’d joked around for too long about having his own wall at Joe Allen’s restaurant, where the interior was covered with posters of shows that had flopped on Broadway. One could only laugh at their own follies for so long, though, before collapsing under their own downfall.
Of course, even in his most disastrous shows, Drew wowed the critics and audiences alike. However, he needed to actually keep a show open before he could consider himself even a moderate success. These days, there were so many musicals opening and closing. Competition was cutthroat at its kindest. No one would continue to take him seriously as a performer if he continued to close in show after show…
That night, though, he had to place his faith in his own talents and in the show itself. Joe Gillis was such an iconic character among film and theater buffs alike. The role was hearty, one in which he could dig into his own emotions and truly craft his own interpretation.
Even his vocal coach noted that his pipes were never stronger, his diction clearer—his sense of feeling so evident—in every single note that he sang. He had to take that courage and translate it into a robust performance that evening. He knew the lines. He could walk through the blocking with his eyes closed. He could convey every split-second of Gillis’ angst over his fading dreams through a score that jarred emotion from the first few bars of the overture all the way through the finale.
Now it was time to deliver.
Professionally, Drew had placed his own make-it-or-break-it wager with himself, but for the first time ever, he’d finally discovered a strength within his own soul to carry on—regardless of the evening’s outcome.
Seeing Louise one final time in jail could have been his ultimate downfall. Sorting through that massive web of thoughts and feelings drained him. Even now, he knew that he could have easily crumbled under the guilt and anger he harbored since childhood. However, he decidedly chose to separate that torrent of emotions from the man into whom he’d grown.
Without Maxine, though, he doubted he would have endured this last round of nightmares.
Now, when he looked at himself again, he smiled. Yes, he could get through this evening and make this show a hit.
Before he stood up, though, he reached for a framed photo of Maxine that he kept on the vanity and kissed her face through the glass pane. “Thank you, little one.”
The knock on the door didn’t startle him. It was nearly show time, and the familiar voice of Zack, their harried but always helpful stage manager called out, “Hey, Mack…package for you…”
His parents as well as several close friends had all sent flowers that now covered nearly every empty surface in the room. Looked like a damn funeral parlor! Drew couldn’t imagine what the hell was waiting for him.
However, he recognized that big, flowing handwriting on the bright yellow envelope immediately.
Carefully, he pulled out the card. The front flap read, “If you could read my mind…” with the inside warning, “…you’d be naked by now…” It was Maxine’s personal note, though, that struck his heart.
My Dearest Kind Sir,
Break both legs this evening.
You’ll always be my Joe Gillis…
All my everything ~ with kisses,
Maxine
“She just dropped it off at the stage door,” Zack told him as Drew read her note. “Trevor told her that she could come up, but she didn’t want to make you nervous.”
“That’s my Maxine,” Drew smiled, as he tugged at the ribbon of the package.
“Break one, buddy,” Zack patted him on the back. “We’re gonna be employed for a while with this one!”
“I think you might be right, Zee.”
Alone again, he tore into the box…and nearly collapsed into a fit of laughter.
Reminiscent of the night he told her that he loved her right on that stage, Maxine chose a gift that served as a souvenir of both that night and of the show itself. A stuffed Monkey by Steiff—dressed in a top hat and white satin bow-tie—stared up at him, grinning the silliest smile he’d ever seen.
Immediately, he grabbed his phone from the top drawer of his vanity, snapped a picture and then sent the photo to Maxine.
Yes, little one, I love you, too—
stuffed monkeys and all!
Kisses…D
Shutting down his phone, Drew returned it to the drawer, then took a deep breath. It was time to raise the curtain.
# # #
“Oh, fuck Jeffrey Dawson tonight!” Ben shouted, then followed up with a whistle as he pumped his hips sinuously. “I gots me two sex-ay ladies to escort to the theater this evening…”
They’d all decided to head to the theater together that night. Jillian had a long trip back to Brooklyn, which would have allotted her little time to actually dress for their collective night on the town. To relieve Jillian of her commute, Maxine suggested that they get ready at the old townhouse. Jeffrey—and even Adam—would be arriving shortly for the pre-show party.
“Ben, you’re so poetic,” Jillian laughed and threw her arm around him. “Oh, bud, I love you. You just make my boring days brighter.”
Technically, Jillian was working that evening. Both she and Jeffrey had to be at the ready to stand by Drew’s side at the after-party when the press made their way through the door. After his little stint with that Christmas tree back in Pennsylvania—not to mention his night on the town with Penelope Lynn Merryweather—he’d made headlines on all the gossip sites. While Drew’s image remained untarnished with a few ribs and several “ho-ho-ho’s,” Jeffrey was adamant that reporters focus on the show—not on Drew’s near-arrest.
With that in mind, Jillian wanted to be comfortable. Throughout the theatrical season, she had so many of these events to attend, and she had to keep her wardrobe cost-effective. While she didn’t begrudge Maxine that little Alexander McQueen couture number in the least, Jillian had to be mindful of her expenses.
For the evening, she’d chosen a sweet little cocktail dress from emerging designer Aidan Mattox that she’d found right off the clearance rack at Bloomies for eighty bucks. Thrifty but ever so chic, the sleeveless nude silk dress with a black lace overlay featured a boat neck and scalloped hem that flounced as she strutted. She’d polished the look with a pair of black suede D’Orsay pumps by Steve Madden, also a sale find.
“Oh, darlin’, since I lost Maxine to a real boyfriend, will you be my Fag Hag now?” Ben chuckled as he nuzzled his nose against Jillian’s neck. He would flirt with anyone—men, women, little old ladies on the street! Eve
n Aunt Frannie couldn’t escape Ben’s charms.
“Hey, I can share you, Uncle Benjy,” Maxine chimed in.
“Group selfie!” Ben called out and pulled Maxine under his other arm as they all stood right beneath his great-grandmother’s chilly stare from her portrait above the mantle. Truthfully, none of them would ever have known that the painting was a gift from Truman Capote had it not been for Aunt Frannie.
A pang of melancholy struck her suddenly. Maxine missed being there in the old townhouse with Ben and having a silly night without anything to do or somewhere to go. Even with Maxine mostly living at Drew’s place now, she and Ben still met up often for drinks and dinner. Hell, Ben had even passed out with Maxine on the couch a couple of times, and when Drew arrived home from the theater, he simply covered them both with a blanket.
Jillian ran off to the bathroom for one last look at herself before the other boys arrived. Ben had even splurged on a bottle of Dom Pérignon, presently chilling in the fridge. He just wanted to make this evening special for everyone.
“And look at you, Captain,” Ben whispered and brushed a tendril of her hair from her eyes. “If I didn’t happen to be gay—and if I didn’t think of you like a sister—I’d totally hit that…”
“You are so bad, Uncle Benjy…but I love you…”
Once again, Drew had insisted that she find an outfit for the occasion at McKenzie’s. However, this time around, he chose the selection of dresses himself, rather than leaving the task in the hands of one of the store’s personal shoppers. There was no doubt in Maxine’s mind from the moment her eyes caught the gown on the rack that her choice had been made.
With a satin, square-neckline and a bodice accentuated in polka-dotted jacquard bands, the jet black gown oozed femininity with asymmetrical tiers of billowy chiffon flowing down the skirt. Embellished now with her collar and earrings, the emeralds popped against her pale skin and afforded the dress just enough sparkle to command the perfect look.
However, she and Drew had their first official argument over that gown. When Maxine went to the website to copy the link to send to Vicki, she discovered that this creation from the House of McQueen cost eighty-nine-hundred dollars.
Money meant nothing if you couldn’t enjoy spending it on those you loved, Drew insisted. He also had his generous family discount at the store. However, they could have done something nice for someone with the cash, Maxine told him, like making a donation to that sweet woman back home who was about to lose her bakery. They could still help her out, Drew countered, by sending her a check in a Christmas card.
They bickered for two hours until Maxine waved a white flag in defeat. Perhaps she would never get used to these extravagances, but Drew had to meet her halfway, eventually. He said he would consider her plea bargain, but made no promises. She was just far too much fun to lavish with gifts.
“Max, seriously…” For once, Ben actually appeared to be at a loss for words. “You look magnificent.”
“Well, handsome man,” she said, straightening his bow tie, “you wear that monkey suit well.”
“Cap, what’s with you and monkeys today?” Ben teased her.
“Maybe there’s a monkey in the show…or maybe it’s a little inside joke between Drew and me….”
Covering his ears, Ben said, “Okay, I can’t hear you. No more! Uncle Benjy don’t need to know!”
“What, Ben?” Jillian rushed back into the room. “Did she mention having sex with Drew?”
“No, no, no, Jillian! They don’t do that! They just…hold hands…sometimes…”
“Holding hands is the new euphemism for fucking?” Maxine asked.
“Bet he holds hands with Jeffrey—a lot,” Jillian teased. “Jeffrey’s been an awfully cheerful guy lately.”
“Aw, come on!” Ben pleaded as he tossed his phone. “Here…Jill…take some pictures of us. We’ll send them over to Tom.”
“Damn, I’m good…” Jillian caught Ben’s phone.
“High-five!” Maxine raised her palm to Jillian. “You silenced him!”
While Maxine and Ben posed, giving their best runway faces to the lens, Jillian clicked away with all three of their phones. She knew that it would just tickle Tom to no end to receive a barrage of texts of his only child all dressed up for the ball.
When Jeffrey arrived toting a second bottle of champagne, Maxine took a moment to just watch him with Ben. Joy filled her as Ben, with shocking shyness, caressed Jeffrey’s cheek…and Jeffrey as he pulled Ben close for a quick snuggle.
This wasn’t her best friend’s usual lustful crush. Such a tenderness existed between them, and no one was happier over their budding romance than Maxine. In the back of her mind, she wondered if this might be the end of Ben’s seemingly endless days of flirtation. Jeffrey was a good man—and a great match—for the love that she knew that Ben was capable of giving.
However, that vibe of intimacy transformed into a rather wild rush once Adam pounced through the door with his own case of microbrews. As he pumped his fist in the air and screamed, “Party at Penelope’s house!!” Maxine could hear the tinkering sounds of Coldplay pounding from his earbuds. Then her eyes focused…and the world stopped suddenly…just before it began to spin.
“Oh, Max…” Jillian whispered out of the corner of her mouth as she stared at Adam McKenzie’s latest fashion choice. “Drew is going—”
“To get arrested for murder one this evening…” Maxine finished Jillian’s sentence.
“It’s been plotted. Drew was just waiting for the right moment,” Jeffrey chimed in. All of them spoke in hushed tones, even though Adam couldn’t hear a damn thing with Chris Martin bellowing against his eardrums. “And I fear the time has come…”
“That is one…loud…tuxedo,” Maxine spoke carefully.
“We must—at all costs—keep him far away from Drew until the show’s over,” Jeffrey said. “Got it, girls?”
“I’m game,” Jillian said. “Uh, may I have another glass of champagne? I think I need one.”
Jeffrey lifted the bottle. “Empty. Let’s open the second.”
“None for me, Jillie!” Maxine called out.
“You’re so good, Max,” Jeff said.
“Well, someone has to keep Drew in line tonight.”
“Drew is why we all drink!” he nudged her.
However, Jillian couldn’t just sneak off to the kitchen by herself. Oh, no. Adam McKenzie even turned his music off as he followed dutifully behind her, still lugging his case of beer. All the while, Jillian just pretended that she was all alone.
After hoisting himself up on the countertop with his open bottle, Adam took the champagne from Jillian’s hands and easily popped the cork. “I knew a dude in my fraternity who could do that with his teeth.”
“Impressive.” And she looked away and out the window into the dark little garden behind the townhouse. She had to eradicate her mind from the image of that…that…get-up he wore! No man in his right mind would dare to dress so ostentatiously.
Turning back around, though, even Jillian had to fight her own laughter. Adam did have balls to pull off a prank as colossal as this one just to piss off his big brother. She didn’t plan, though, to show him a trace of amusement.
“You like it, Jill,” Adam insisted, gesturing toward his vest. A slight red blush blotched his pale skin, giving his cheeks a rosy glow. And just before she closed her eyes, she noticed a few freckles right beneath Adam’s eyes that she hadn’t paid mind to before. “Jillian?”
“The answer is no.”
“You don’t even know what I’m about to ask…” he insisted.
“Let me wager a few guesses.” Ticking his previous annoyances off on her fingers, she stood tall and proud—and eye to eye with Adam. “Will you sit with me? Will you dance with me? Will you please go out with me?”
“And you never give me a solid answer why,” he reminded her.
“Because your…your brother is my client…” she improvised.
&nbs
p; “He can be done away with, my dear lady,” he said, his eyebrows rising playfully. “I have the money to cover it up, too. Next excuse for me to shoot down?”
“Adam, why don’t you just take no for an answer?”
“Because I see yes in those hungry eyes of yours, dear.” He lunged forward, so close that she could smell the minty scent of the breath mint on which he’d been sucking prior to his arrival. “And I know that one day, you will no longer be able to escape my smooth moves.”
“You know, some of us do have responsibilities—I do have a job to do this evening,” she said. “What if I just ignore you?”
“What if I…” Adam challenged and leaned back on the palm of his hand while he took a swig of beer with the other. “What if I…ignore you?
“First for everything?”
“This must be how Chris Martin felt when Gwyneth Paltrow gooped him…”
Damn, this guy. Sometimes, he was actually funny. But Jillian didn’t have the time to date. She had a full career on her plate, and she loved every minute of her life. Often, she wondered how Maxine managed to balance everything. Yet deep down, Jillian knew that Maxine made the time to attend to those little facets of her personal world that Jillian often just forgot about with the excuse of work coming first. Even her own mother told her to loosen up and have some fun, but Jillian still felt that she had far too much to prove.
“Dance with me at the after-party?” There was something so charismatic about those pleading green eyes staring so earnestly at her. Adam McKenzie, however, was not about to become Jillian McGee’s downfall.
“I have to mind your brother,” she said.
Hopping off the counter in defeat, Adam grabbed another beer. “Okay. It’s official. I’m ignoring you until you beg me to dance with you. Got that, Miss Jillian?”
“Thought you were ignoring me?”
Wandering aimlessly out of the kitchen, Adam swaggered back to the living room to join Maxine and the gents. “Penelope Lynn! You’re going to my brother’s opening dressed in that? How dare you tarnish the good McKenzie name and reputation for the sake of fashion?”
WRAPPED: The Manhattan Bound Series, Book Two Page 48