WRAPPED: The Manhattan Bound Series, Book Two

by Juliet Braddock

  One dance. Maybe, Jillian told herself. Just. One.

  But for the moment, the show had to go on…

  # # #

  Traffic was considerably light for a Thursday night at rush hour, and Maxine and Jillian continued to chat idly as Lou made his way through the Central Park transverse over to the West Side. Jeffrey and Ben decided to make nice with Adam, opting for a ride from Uber, and to allow the girls some time alone before the festivities kicked into high gear.

  At 57th Street en route to Times Square, Maxine decided to survey her hair and make-up one last time. Pouting her lips in her compact mirror, she chuckled. She felt pretty. She felt giddy. There was just something that made her feel this was going to be a magical evening.

  “You look so sweet, Max,” Jillian patted her hand. “And I can’t think of two people that I’m happier for at this minute.”

  “Oh, I can…” Maxine smiled knowingly, before they both said at the same time, “Ben and Jeffrey…”

  The time was seven-fifty-five on the nose—exactly fifteen minutes before curtain—when they’d arrived at the theater. As the two young ladies stepped out of the car under the glittering marquis with Drew's name emblazoned just below the title, Maxine caught and held her breath. How proud she was to celebrate this evening with him.

  A single tear drifted down her cheek. He’d been waiting his entire career for the recognition he would likely receive at last for this show, and Maxine almost felt as if she’d been waiting every second with him. Although she didn’t want to say a word—Drew was highly superstitious of all the old theatrical wives’ tales—she had a feeling that things were finally going his way.

  There was always a thrilling whirl of excitement that filled her before she saw any show, and she recalled those days not so long ago when her mother was at her side. This would be the first show she saw after Judy’s death, and Maxine still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that she couldn’t even phone her mother afterward to tell her about the evening. Looking up into those sparkling lights again, she nearly blinded herself, but she could feel the warmth of her mother’s presence once again.

  “Love you, Mom,” she whispered. And if she listened carefully, Maxine thought she heard her mother’s voice whisper the same in return.

  Just as the guys pulled up in their car, Maxine found herself floating back down again to reality. While Adam ran inside to find his parents, Ben and Jeffrey caught up to Maxine and Jillian. There was just far too much going on.

  Trevor, the doorman, waved when he spotted her, but didn't smile. Over the course of previews, he'd become Maxine's buddy, but he never turned away from his watch while he was working. While most theater fans were happy with just a signed Playbill and a photo with the stars of the show, there were a couple of questionable enthusiasts. It was Trevor’s job to keep them at bay.

  “Good evening, Max...”

  “Same to you, Trevor,” she said with a wink and passed her package to him. “Would you please make sure this gets to Drew before the curtain rises for me?”

  “You’re more than welcome to go see him,” Trevor said. “I can call up to his dressing room…”

  “Don’t wanna make him any more nervous than I know he is right now.”

  “No worries, Max. I’ll make sure he has this in his hands within the next two minutes…”

  “You’re the best, Trevor! Thank you so much. And we’ll see you after the show.”

  “Dead monkey delivered?” Ben whispered in her ear as he hustled her through the entrance, craning his neck to try to find the McKenzies in the swarm of people in the lobby.

  “Why don’t you go and hold Jeffrey’s hand?”

  “I shall get you, Captain Kirk,” he warned, his eyes and smile teasing and threatening at the same time. “Just remember—payback is a gift that just keeps on giving.”

  # # #

  “You have two choices right now,” Maggie whispered through gritted teeth. “Hold me back…or hold my drink…”

  Reaching out to steady the hand in which Maggie held her champagne flute, Declan scrambled to search the lobby of the theater to see if he noticed any of their friends. “Now, Mags, we always said that—from the beginning—we supported our boys in whatever creative decisions they made…”

  “Do you see what he’s wearing, Declan?” she sputtered, then swallowed the entire glass in one drink before asking the bartender behind her for a second. “Drew is going to eviscerate him. We’ll be down to one son. And the other son will be tried and convicted. And that will decrease my chances of having grandbabies any time in the near future…”

  “Mumsy,” Adam grinned as he leaned in to place a peck on his mother’s chilly cheek. “Popsy. How you guys doing this grand evening?”

  “Please…just…take that off. Go to the men’s room right now and just toss that thing in the garbage. You’ll look fine without it. For me, please, Adam?”

  “But my bro didn’t get the chance to see it yet!”

  Eyes rolling to the back of her head, Maggie actually felt a little flush. Always the pillar of elegance, she wore a simple dark gray lace sheath dress from Ralph Lauren’s fall ready-to-wear collection, fitted to perfection around her tall frame. However, her baby boy could easily destroy every last bit of poise that she could gather within.

  Admittedly, Declan often allowed things to go too far between their two sons, all for the sake of a little humor; however he couldn’t ignore the fact this his wife was so upset by Adam’s latest prank. Maggie was on edge for Drew’s sake. The entire family knew that this one single performance could propel his career to the next level—or set him back once again. With that critical fact of life in mind, Declan eased his son aside and gave him a pat on the back.

  “It’s funny, Adam,” Declan admitted. “But maybe you should just…tone it down…just for tonight?”

  “You know, that would be a nice gesture, Dad,” Adam said. “But they’re dimming the lights…and we need to get to our seats. I cannot miss one second of my brother’s performance this evening.”

  At the very last second, Maxine and company rushed over toward the McKenzies, giving hurried kisses to all.

  “Maxine had to drop a gift off for Drew,” Jeffrey explained as the usher rushed them toward the doors of the darkening theater. “Sorry, we’re late.”

  In truth, Maxine just wanted to get through the next two-and-a-half hours and hold Drew in her arms. He was so close…yet so very far away right now. Her own thoughts were scattered as she pondered what might be racing through his mind. This was all one big waiting game, and everyone knew that Maxine had little patience.

  As the orchestra tuned up in preparation for those first few notes of the overture, Maxine settled in her seat on the aisle, right next to Maggie. When she pulled out her phone to turn it off, she noticed the text from Drew, and she smiled. Yes, he was going to be just fine.

  From the haunting first few notes of the overture, the show enticed Maxine into the darkest corners of old Hollywood, where the obsession for glamour collided with the desperation of the nameless talents struggling to forge a career. The parallel to Drew’s own ambitions didn’t miss her. He didn’t just understand Joe Gillis. To some extent, he’d lived his life. He knew that pain of professional rejection.

  Drew made his grand entrance to much bravura, and Maxine smiled into the darkness while the applause boomed around her. Biased though she might be, she thought he was brilliant—his best role in his entire career. All of his cynicism masked with wit poured forth. Drew breezed through each number, desperately begging for work on every film lot in Los Angeles before succumbing to the temptations of a wealthy older woman who’d lost her own career with the extinction of silence films.

  For once, Maxine even held herself in check for those stage smooches. It amused her that Maggie did indeed turn her head away, but Maxine’s eyes didn’t leave the stage. A sense of detached amusement washed over her. The ingénue, according to Drew, puckered up her scaly lips
“just like a fish.”

  Intermission came and went, but Maxine was all ears, eavesdropping on every conversation around her. That Drew McKenzie could sing…and what shows had he done before? Some rifled through the program, searching for his headshot and bio. Others commented that they couldn’t wait for the release of the cast recording.

  As the curtain lifted once again on the second act, Drew took the stage, solo, to deliver the title song of the show—the number everyone in that audience had been awaiting. His voice, drenched with the bitterness of a man who’d stooped to his lowest point to pursue a broken dream, filled the entire theater, evoking emotions that simply couldn’t be conveyed with the spoken word. By the time Drew hit that final long note, the audience was on its feet, and Maxine hoped that the critics would be just as kind to him.

  Although she never pictured Maggie as the quintessential stage mother, Maxine felt her intensity as she grabbed her arm and whispered right in her ear, “That’s it! He nailed it. He’s got this one. It’s Tony time…”

  Maxine wanted to agree, but the theater was such a fluctuating industry. All it took was one other show to open to overshadow every other offering on Broadway.

  Before she had the chance to dwell too much, Maxine had to hold herself in check again for Drew’s death scene with the blow of a single gunshot. On a whim, Maxine reached for Maggie’s hand and gave it a squeeze, only to discover that they were both crying.

  But she hardly had a moment to ponder her reactions. They had to meet Drew, wait for him while he signed autographs, then head to the cast party at Sardi’s.

  Always the patriarch, Declan took control of their little crowd. “Hey, let’s have another drink at the bar,” he suggested to one and all. “Let Max go see him first. It’s crowded in those dressing rooms.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Jillian agreed, and nudged Adam toward the bar.

  “Ignoring you, Miss Jillian. How’s it feel?” Adam asked. “Yeah, Drew’s changing right now, and I don’t really wanna see him in his Spiderman underoos. He does still wear those, doesn’t he, Penelope?”

  Sometimes, as Maxine learned from Maggie, it was just easiest to walk away from Adam.

  “Will you leave her alone?” she could hear Declan’s voice as she turned to make her way into the lobby. “For heaven’s sake, one of you boys finally found a girl we approve of—don’t you dare scare her away!”

  “You know, Adam, Drew often makes coffee in our kitchen very early in the morning…and he actually wears boxer briefs,” Ben added. “No superheroes. Just solid colors.”

  “And you looked?” Jeffrey charged. “You looked?”

  “We’ll just meet you two at Sardi’s, dear!” Maggie shouted out to Maxine, hoping she heard through all of the post-theater commotion.

  It was almost a relief to step out into the cold early December night, and as Maxine inched her way toward the stage door, a sense of clam pervaded her at long last. Trusting a mother’s intuition, she deemed to Maggie. It was likely that Drew had just been named the toast of the entire Broadway season.

  Maneuvering up that short flight from the backstage entrance to his dressing room, however, was a task that Maxine hadn’t anticipated. There were so many people—chorus girls in costume, well-wishers, a couple of the producers—that she was sure they’d created a fire hazard. Step-by-step, she tip-toed her way closer, and while Drew accepted the congratulatory words of his castmates, she quietly caught his attention as she lingered quietly in the doorframe.

  Suddenly, everything just stopped in Drew’s euphoric moment, and there was no one else in the room but Maxine. He did make a very quick round of introductions, and Maxine put names that she knew to faces from shows she’d seen over the years. However, in his haste, Drew shooed everyone away. He’d see them at the party.

  His heart swelled with emotion as he took note of her collar. His hand reached out to touch the delicate tendrils of her hair that brushed against her face.

  “You just can’t get any more beautiful than you are right at this moment,” he said, stopping to brace himself against the wall. “And I know that I said that at my mother’s party…but you just love to defy me, don’t you, little one?”

  They did make an elegant pair, both wearing Alexander McQueen—with Maxine in her black gown and Drew in his tuxedo, complete with velvet jacket. In the morning, all of the style pages in the New York press would commend their tastes in couture and wonder hopefully if they would attend the Met Ball in the spring, which was the city’s most anticipated fashion event of the year.

  “You’re wearing some snazzy digs yourself, Kind Sir,” she tugged at his lapel only to pull him close for a kiss. “And you were nothing short of brilliant tonight…”

  Cradling her face in his hands, he couldn’t resist a second meeting with her silky lips. He wanted nothing more than to just go home, make love to her and let the reviews roll in without him. But those plans would involve undressing her, and she just looked too lovely to strip just yet.

  “Yeah, fuck the show, I can’t take my eyes away from you right now, little one…” he said. If only his parents weren’t waiting, he would have hiked up that skirt and taken her that very second. “Do you realize how much I love you…?”

  “And I love you—on stage and off.”

  “Thank you for my monkey, too,” Drew said. “I think he just might be my good luck charm from herein…if tonight goes my way.”

  “I guess you don’t want to hear what everyone in the audience was saying at intermission…or that I kinda sorta saw the open notebook from the Associated Press critic at the bar at intermission…”

  “Oh, God, Maxine, don’t taunt me, you publicist, you…” Then he shook his head, sat down on the granite vanity counter and bit his lip. “Never mind. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to build a false sense of hope…”

  “I have a feeling that all is going to be fine, Drew,” she assured him.

  “It is, Maxine, because you’ll still be there long after the critics have spewed their hate…long after this show closes—”

  Another kiss to his lips shushed him. “Or quite possibly sitting next to you at the Tony Awards when they call your name,” she said. “Now, let’s go and hoof it over to Sardi’s. I hear there’s a party in your honor this evening…”

  “You’re Topping from the bottom again…” he warned.

  Looping her arm through his, Maxine asked, “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

  Outside, the crowd had grown significantly, interspersed with both theater fans and paparazzi alike. Drew was so shocked that he nearly tripped down the single step that led to the street, and he turned to Maxine with a shrug. “Who are these people?”

  “I used to be one of them, Drew…”

  As he eased himself along the police barriers to sign programs and to pose for photos, Maxine literally pinched herself. Never did she imagine—even in her wildest bedtime fantasies—that she’d be the one on Drew’s arm on opening night.

  Watching him now, as he passed one Playbill back and moved on to sign another, she remembered how much those moments meant to her. Just that smile alone could drop her to her knees. Hearing him say a heartfelt thanks melted her heart. While she followed closely behind him, Drew belonged to those fans for this one moment in time as he breezed along, dazed by the show of support.

  “One more shot, Mr. McKenzie…smile for ‘Page Six’…”

  Taking her tiny hand in his at last, Drew turned to Maxine and kissed her on the top of the head. “Ready for the ball?”

  “Fuck ‘Page Six.’ Tired of them following us around…”

  He couldn’t squeeze her tight enough. But he had to laugh. Maxine didn’t even know what the hell “Page Six” was when their photo first appeared in the Post. “That’s my girl!”

  Literally only steps away from the theater, Sardi’s played host to nearly every show opening as the cast and producers gathered anxiously to wait for the reviews. Inside, holiday déco
r had already been set with bustles of fresh garland adorned in white twinkle lights. Famous for its caricatures of some of the theater’s leading stars, the likes of Carol Channing, Hugh Jackman, Tom Hanks and Lucille Ball minded them from their framed spots upon those equally famous rose-red walls.

  As the bell cap opened the heavy mahogany doors etched with the comedy and tragedy masks in gold, he greeted them with a hearty welcome. However, Maxine’s thoughts drifted back to the last time she’d been there, escorting Lexi to her interview with that sleazy Randy Mansfield from the Times. She’d forgotten to ask Jillian if he was on the press list for this evening, but it was unlikely she’d find him in this sea of bodies.

  The first floor was already nearly full by the time they’d arrived, packed shoulder to shoulder with theatrical luminaries, and Maxine knew this wasn’t quite the respite for which Drew had been hoping. Furthermore, her effort to find him a drink and a seat proved futile. All eyes were upon them as a couple, and most everyone in attendance wanted to speak to Drew.

  Exhaustion was evident in his eyes, but Drew managed to bolster a second wind. He’d told Maxine many times that to play this game, politics were just as important as performance. Soldiering onward, Drew continued to smile, shake hands and blow air kisses. Again, just like his character, he did whatever he had to do to survive in the world of show business.

  Not so far away, Maxine spotted the McKenzie table, and her eyes turned again toward Adam. Perhaps Drew would just ignore the outfit. It was his big night. He had so many other things on his mind—reviews, investors, his manager and agent, his…

  Blinking in rapid succession, Drew nearly suffocated as he studied his brother’s latest fashion folly. “What the fuck…are you wearing?”

  Splattered with color in the brightest of yellows, oranges, greens and blues, the wild jungle scene of huge tropical birds—all staring callously back at Drew as if they were preparing to peck at him with their rough beaks—unfolded on Adam’s bowtie and vest. Upon closer inspection, the feathers actually appeared to be real, readying those damn birds to simply fly off the fabric and attack Drew before the reviews even came in. This fucking mess was something of which only nightmares were born.