Only to have her shoot me down one more time.
“You think you’re hot shit,” she snarls, low and poisonous, only for my ears. “But you can’t handle the pressure, small town.” Her scent washes over me, fresh flowers mingling with something like honey. She rolls her eyes, expressive mouth twisting in an ugly scowl, blonde hair silken as it brushes over my hand. “I’ve seen your type come and go, all shiny and expecting the world to hand you something. Let me tell you, this town will crush you like the pathetic little worm you are.”
I’m gaping at her, floored by her vitriol. Unable to react. Any need I felt to share with her the secret, the fact I know why she’s so good or to talk about my mother, is gone with her words.
“The first critic who tears you to shreds will kill you,” she says. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re too weak to handle it. You think that little street scene makes you special?” She snorts, delicate, but carrying volumes. “That having Miller Hill like you means you’re a star?” She snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Try a stage show, princess. Try eight shows a week when you have a cold or the flu or can’t walk straight because you’ve been on your feet for so long. Try the long slog and then come back and prove you’re an actor.”
My mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out. I want to tell her I can handle it, that she’s wrong. I love it too much to go back now.
Bianca’s not done. She leans even closer, her lip gloss catching my hair as her mouth brushes my ear. “Trust me, pumpkin,” she says with false charm, “just quit while you’re ahead.”
“Bianca.” Aleah’s voice breaks the moment. The starlet leans away from me, takes a casual sip of her red wine, looks at my friend through heavy lashes, a sultry smile on her face.
“Aleah.” She pushes away from the counter, saunters past. “Just offering some advice to small town.”
Aleah scowls after her as I turn and watch Bianca sway her way into the crowd. Ruben kisses her cheek as she enters the group and she hugs him, suddenly the center of attention while I cringe against the counter and do my best not to throw up.
I need to get out of here, to just leave and go home. Because my fear Bianca is right is more powerful than anything else at this moment. Haven’t I just been through a roller coaster of doubt and excitement? The fear I can’t take much more of it?
Who am I fooling thinking I can just come to New York and this will all work out?
Aleah must know how I’m feeling. She’s on top of me, pressing me back, one hand on my arm, before I can take a step.
“You listen to me, now,” she says right in my ear, as intimate as Bianca, but with heart and affection and intensity. “And pay attention, because I’m only going to say this once.” I choke on a bitter laugh at the Roger reference, an additional reminder it’s going to take way more than the excitement of a few nights fooling around, playing at being an actor, to make it a reality. “There are going to be haters, Riley. People who treat you like crap, who beat you up emotionally because they are afraid.”
“Of what?” I meet her eyes, mine burning.
“Of you,” she says. “Of failing. Of their own success. There’s a shit-load of fear out there, sugar, and none of it,” she squeezes my arm, “has anything to do with you. You get me?”
I shake my head. I really don’t.
She sighs, breath warm on my cheek. “There will always be critics who hate you because they love to hate. And bitches like Bianca who can’t see past their own insecurity.” I start at that. Bianca doesn’t seem insecure. And she’s so talented. “The higher you rise, sweets, the further the fall. Unless.”
I wait, quivering under her touch. Wanting to call Ian, his sweet face. For comfort. Just to see him so I don’t have to listen to what she’s saying.
But I don’t and he stays away as my friend goes on.
“You’re not alone, baby,” Aleah says, so much warmth in her voice I sag under it. “That’s the key. Why do you think we’re all here together like this?” She waves toward the main room, though her voice doesn’t change volume, nor do her eyes leave mine. “We love each other, have fun together. But we’re here for support. For those times the haters try to drag us down.”
“What happens when one of you is the hater?” I feel my own hate rising, now. Against Bianca for her little speech and her arrogance and a seed of it aimed at myself for being such a weakling.
Aleah shrugs. “It happens,” she says, though her eyes tighten around the corners as though she’s thinking her own terrible thoughts about Bianca. “Thing is, the haters aren’t in it for the rest of us. They’re only in it for themselves. That’s the difference.”
I nod. I can see that. Glace sideways at Bianca who has made herself the center of everything, talking louder than the others, planting herself front and center so they all notice her.
“She craves it,” Aleah says. “She needs it to survive. You just love it.”
It’s true. I’m just as happy to sit outside the excitement and cheer others on. The fear cracks open, the shock of Bianca’s sudden attack fading as I feel myself relax.
“I want you to remember one more thing,” Aleah says, drawing my gaze back to her dark eyes. “When the critics are bastards, when the bitches converge. When you feel like quitting. I want you to remember what it felt like on that street.” She pokes me gently in the chest. “Tonight. With Miller. Because the fame, the fortune, the hangers on, all of it, Riley Skyley. None of it compares to how what we do feels.”
She’s so right. I’m smiling again, falling into the memory of Delores and Horatio. I shake off Bianca’s attempt to chase me off and straighten.
Hug Aleah tight. “Thank you,” I say. While a tiny little part of me holds tight to the fear maybe, just maybe, Bianca is right.
“Sister,” Aleah whispers, drowning out the morsel of anxiety with her luscious voice, “we’ve all been there. Me, too.” She shrugs as I let her go. “Still happens sometimes. Point is, we keep going. Because we don’t just act. We are actors.”
I nod. Rub my arm with one hand where goosebumps have risen. Glare at Bianca’s back in an attempt to firm up my backbone and use anger to kill the last of my fear.
“Got it,” I say. “Except.”
Aleah waits.
“If she’s right,” I say, forcing myself to voice it, to drag it out into the light instead of allowing the idea to fester. “If I’m not strong enough?”
Aleah makes an air raspberry with her full lips, flapping one hand at me, the wide sleeve of her dark blue dress carrying her spicy scent to me. “No fear of that, love,” she says. “Not even a little.”
Nice to know someone thinks I can do it. Even if the seed of doubt Bianca planted digs in a bit deeper and sulks.
I hate to let her ruin it for me. And maybe having doubt is a good thing, keep me grounded. Because I never, ever want to be like her.
“Now,” Aleah grabs my arm and pulls me toward the kitchen. “It’s time to toss you to the lions and see if I’m right.”
“Sorry?” I go with her, choiceless, though I would have gone anyway had she asked. Would have done anything she wanted after that talk. But when I see Piper across the room, hear his squeal of excitement, I freeze.
He runs toward me, a huge smile on his face. Pushes the magazine he’s holding into my hands. It’s Backstage, the newest edition.
And a paragraph is circled in red pen.
“My darling Skyley,” Aleah says in her rich voice, “we’re sending you on your first audition.”
***
Chapter Fourteen
My first instinct is panic. Second is disbelief. Third is horror as the magazine begins to tremble in my hands.
“You’re crazy,” I say. “I can’t audition for anything.” I need more classes, have to go to school.
Don’t I?
Piper snorts, smacks my shoulder. “Don’t be a pussy,” he says. “Besides, we’re all here to help you.”
Not all. I can feel Bi
anca’s eyes boring holes in my head. And thank her as her negative attention straightens my spine, gives me the little surge of temper I need to see this through.
“Let’s do it,” I say.
I’m swept into a whirlwind of activity when they find out I’m not only without a resume but I also don’t have a current headshot. Miller dives for his laptop, hunching over the keyboard with eager fingers. As I dictate my feeble acting experience—though I refuse to look at Bianca, knowing she’s probably smirking and rolling her eyes—Aleah seats me on a stool and proceeds to do my hair and makeup.
I catch a quick look at myself in the window beside me, but that’s all she allows before Piper spins me around, my back to the brick wall, an expensive looking camera in his hands.
“Don’t stress, darling,” he says as he lifts it to look at me through the lens. “It’s a tiny little production.”
“The perfect place for you to get your feet wet,” Aleah says, hovering in the background as the rest of our friends call out suggestions for poses and Miller smiles and types.
I feel uncomfortable at first, but soon relax into the experience when I realize Piper won’t stop snapping pictures until I do. “If you say so.” I try a small smile, thinking of Delores and her sultry yet broken soul. To which my photographer squeals.
“Gorgeous!” He snaps another. “More like that.”
Aleah, meanwhile, is on the phone. “Yes, my name is Riley James.” She winks at me as I gape at her. “That’s right, for the part of Beatrix. Yes. 8pm tomorrow? Perfect. Thank you.” And hangs up with a tight smirk.
I choke out a laugh, Piper still snapping away. “Thank you,” I say.
Piper is suddenly done, Aleah and Miller both hanging over the back of the camera, oohing and ahhing over shots. But when I try to see, my actor turned photographer jerks the camera away.
“Not a chance,” Piper says. “You’ll see them when they are printed.”
“No fair.” I reach for the camera, only to have Aleah block me, wagging one finger in my face.
“Trust us,” she says. “Remember?”
It’s clear they have no intention of allowing me to interfere. Makes me wonder just what Miller wrote on my resume.
Piper disappears into a corner with a cable and his own computer, the light from the screen making him look like a mad scientist as he giggles and scowls and sighs over the shots he took. Aleah doesn’t allow me to focus on him, doing everything she can to distract me while Piper presumably attempts choose a headshot that meets his approval.
I give in with a shrug and wipe the lipstick from my mouth as Miller hands me a cooler.
“Proud of you,” he says.
I’m kind of proud of me, too.
I don’t get a chance to enjoy my drink, one sip enough to wash the taste of lipstick from my mouth before I’m firmly taken by the hand and planted in front of the entire group. Aleah claps her hands for attention. I glance around, happy to see Bianca is gone, though Ruben looks sour, staring into his drink. She must have abandoned him when she left.
I’m frankly glad she’s gone. Because Aleah spins to face everyone as they sink to the floor in a semi-circle before me and fall quiet.
“Now,” she says, turning to me. “Show us your audition.”
And leaves me there to stutter and stammer while my new friends laugh.
“That won’t get you far,” Miller says to more laughter.
“I don’t know,” Latanya, one of the other girls, says. Her long, black braids hang to her waist, skin darker than Aleah’s, eyes sparkling with good humor. “I kind of liked it. Shows originality in nerves.”
They can stop laughing any time now.
And since I realize they aren’t going to let me off the hook anytime soon, I choose to be brave and launch into one of my monologues.
It’s hard, at first, to find the place I need to be inside myself and I stumble through the words, the phrasing, the timing. My friends don’t comment until I’m done, though the critiques come hard and fast once I’ve fallen silent.
I listen, absorb what they say. “Too stiff” “Breathe already” “More movement” and take it all in. Before trying again.
This time the quiet comes more easily, the detachment, now I’ve lost the edge to my nerves. Though I still struggle to leave room open for the return of the character. Yet, it’s easier than ever to fall into the stillness and allow the voice to flow, but I know I’m missing a piece.
I need more practice.
This time, the group’s comments are more positive.
I spend the next few hours working hard, finding the place I need to be in the character, expanding on my audition to a soft song of loss I’ve taken from a small show I did in high school. I have a half-decent voice, though I’m no Aleah. Still, they applaud and offer more suggestions while I sigh in happiness.
They finally leave me be, hugs coming from all sides, even Ruben giving me a squeeze and a “great job” in my ear. Piper bounces around like a manic two-year old, hugging me after Ruben lets me go.
Hands me a sticky note. Actually adheres it to my arm. “Pick up your photos tomorrow,” he says. “They’ll be ready by five.”
My nerves return, though I trust him as he hugs me again.
“Thank you.” I’ve been saying that a lot to these people I now call my friends.
Piper waves one hand in front of his face, lower lip trembling. “You hush,” he says. “An ugly cry will ruin my mascara.”
I kiss his cheek. “Can’t have that,” I say.
Aleah is next. “Well done,” she says. “I can’t wait to see you on stage.”
A thrill of excitement goes through me even as I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I fish it out, grinning at her.
See the reminder I left myself earlier to go home and get some sleep.
And sigh at the order. Know I need to, now more than ever.
More hugs, goodbyes for everyone. I’m at the elevator when Miller stops me. He leans against the wall, soft smile impossible not to adore. “You know you can say no, right?” He gestures behind him. “If you think you’re not ready.”
Does he doubt me? That hurts, almost as much as Bianca’s little bitch fest. “No,” I say. Pause because I trust his judgment. “Do you think I should?”
Miller laughs, and kisses my cheek. “Are you kidding?” His finger traces over my jaw, a feather touch I have to fight not to lean into. “I’m the one who suggested the audition.”
Restoring my faith and wiping away the pain with a few simple words.
“I can’t let you walk home alone.” He straightens even as Aleah and Piper, a few of the others tagging along, head for us. Aleah takes my hand.
“Sushi run,” she says. “Sure you can’t stay?”
I shake my head, smile at Miller. “I think I’ll be okay.”
I feel as disappointed as he looks when he nods. But now there’s no way to ask him to come with me, not when Aleah is on one side, Piper on the other, the elevator door sliding shut on Miller’s wave goodbye.
Probably just as well. Since we’re friends and all. Nothing more than friends.
Am I ready to make it more?
The streets are as quiet as New York is going to get, though Aleah makes short work of that. She bursts into song as we walk, Piper joining her, Latanya and Malik, her delicious, dark-haired boyfriend, join in. They must have been in a show together, no way such a sound could be improvised. Doesn’t stop me from trying to find a part to sing among their voices.
At first it’s odd, I’m only humming, Aleah smiling at me as she sings. But, like magic, my mind clicks and everything fits together. I can almost see the line of harmony, dive into it with enthusiasm, though I’m still humming because I don’t know the words.
As we near Aunt Vonda’s, I look up at the roof and laugh, breaking my own concentration. I wanted to be part of this, longed for exactly what I’m doing right now.
Amazing what a few days and some courage can
do.
I wave goodbye to my friends, who serenade me all the way to the door of the building, around 1AM. Blow them kisses, laughing, heart so full I’m sure I won’t sleep after all. But when the entry closes behind me and I’m engulfed by quiet, I feel my body finally ready to quit and know sleeping won’t be a problem.
As I fall into bed, I smile at Ian’s picture. Touch his face under the glass. Strangely, I don’t feel the need to call up more than that.
And think of Miller.
***
Chapter Fifteen
Aunt Vonda is so excited the next morning when I tell her what I have planned, she spills her tea all over the table. I accept her hug with one of my own, though I’m beginning to think if the people who love me don’t stop choking me, I won’t be around much longer.
She sits back, clapping like a crazy lady, red-tinted curls barely moving as she bounces in her seat.
“Riley,” she gushes all over me, “that’s so wonderful!”
We walk together to work, my few hours of sleep enough to keep my spirits up, tied to the excitement of knowing tomorrow night I’ll be auditioning for my first real show. My first New York show.
It’s hard to focus on flowers and customer’s orders, especially when Aunt Vonda proceeds to inform anyone who will listen I’m going to be a famous actress someday. When I’m not blushing furiously and hissing at her to be quiet, I’m giggling behind my hands in giddy half-hysteria at the thought she might be right.
I’m actually disappointed when Miller and Aleah, Piper in tow, don’t appear at all during the day. I was so sure they would come to see me. But I end up shaking my head at myself, settling my nerves and my excitement. Silly, I’d be seeing them later.
For more rehearsals.
I’m shocked when I slip out of the back from a short break to the sound of the doorbell, look up, and find Bianca standing at the counter. My whole body shudders, zinging pops of pinpoint needles racing down my limbs at the sight of her. I realize then I’m afraid of her, intimidated.
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