by Sara Hooper
And she still didn’t trust him all that much.
The crowd liked the pairing. She bowed with him. Apparently others had seen the way they looked at each other, the way he smoothed her back in the wake of the roar.
So they were destined or doomed to see this thing out together. Alice felt beaten by the hand she’d been dealt. For that, and for so many other reasons, she fell against Peter’s side. He held her close as The Shark declared that the new acts were to be given a week to get it together to win votes.
A week seemed hardly long enough to accomplish the impossible.
Failed Pilot
Alice huddled in the stairwell just beyond the room she shared with Darlene and whipped out her cell. She ignored unread emails and calls to update her operating system and quickly swiped through her contacts until her finger tapped Home. Barely two rings later, she heard her mother’s familiar voice.
“Wow, baby! I didn’t see that coming?”
“You and me both, Mom.”
“I thought for sure you’d get paired with the rapper.”
Now that could have worked. Alice was obviously no stranger to applying her classical training to a contemporary beat, and she knew that Porter Cole had his own groove to tap into.
“I know. It would’ve… I don’t know.”
“What’s wrong, Alice? You sound so down. Aren’t you excited?”
The answer to that was trapped somewhere between yes and no. She and Peter kept crashing into each other, so on some level it made sense that they would team up. He wouldn’t sabotage his own chances by tripping her up, literally or figuratively, and he had sworn that she wouldn’t fall victim to any scheme on his part. But what were they supposed to come up with that would stand a chance?
“Alice?”
She closed her eyes before she spoke. “I’m… I don’t know if I can make this work, Mom.”
“Come on, baby. Maybe he’s not your first choice, but you could’ve done worse.”
Alice loved the moments where she could read her mother’s thoughts. “Marissa?”
“What crawled up her butt and died?”
They laughed together, and Alice felt the muscles in her shoulders start to relax.
“But seriously, Alice. It’s not like you two don’t make a pretty picture.”
Alice’s jaw slowly dropped. “What do you mean?”
“Baby, he’s always next to you on stage.”
“It’s just the assigned order, Mom.”
“Or maybe it’s fate. What’s he like anyway?”
She could tell her mother that he was better looking in person and ten times more infuriating. He’s…complicated,” Alice said.
“I figured as much. But he obviously likes you.”
“Based on what?”
“Baby, all those jokes?”
Alice could almost see her mother’s fingers flexing into air quotes.
“They’re pretty bad.”
“But they’re all about you. Right?”
Did everyone realize that? She was seized with the thought that the judges had simply paired them together to see if Alice could take his mocking when she wasn’t able to seethe in the wings.
“Right, Mom. It’s real flattering.”
“Alice, he’s just like a little boy pulling your hair to get a reaction. And I’m guessing he’s gotten one. He’s always smiling at you.”
Or always smirking. Maybe it was hard to tell the difference on camera.
“Do you like him, Alice?”
“Mom, that’s not the point. I don’t know if there’s a way to win with him.”
Her mother clicked her tongue. “Nobody gets anything worth having the easy way, Alice. You know that. It’s never stopped you before.”
Her mother’s words were the shot in the arm that she needed.
“You’re right, Mom.”
“I always am. So do you like him?”
She decided to leave her mother with a tease. “Guess you’ll have to tune in next week.”
“Well that answers that.”
Alice could never get anything by her. “I gotta go, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you more, baby.”
Alice ended the call and sighed. She went back to her room and found Darlene lacing up her sneakers on the edge of her bed.
“Where you off to?” Alice asked.
“To meet the gang!”
That was code for Ten and Out, her new partners in crime.
“You’re not wasting any time,” Alice said.
“No way! We only have a week, Alice. Time to get cracking!” Darlene was nearly out the door when she turned back with a smile. “He was already here you know.”
Alice felt her pulse quicken. “He… he was?”
“Guess he wants to get to work, too.”
“But where is he…?”
“He said you’d know where to find him.” Darlene happily bounced away.
Alice didn’t need a second clue to follow. She was back in the hallway and moved past Peter’s door without the slightest glance. Taking the steps two at a time, she emerged on the roof.
Peter was leaning against the ledge, his eyes fixed on the door. “What took you so long?”
Alice softly closed the door and slowly walked to his side. “Permission to speak freely?” she asked.
“Nothing’s ever stopped you before.”
She started to think of a snappy comeback when she remembered the limits of the little time working against them. “Can we just be serious for a second?”
Peter shrugged his shoulders and lit a cigarette. “All ears, my lady.”
“Are you…are you happy about this?”
He took a slow drag before he spoke. “We’re being honest, right?”
She looked him in the eye and nodded.
“I’m glad it’s you and not Marissa.”
For a second Alice’s heart went out to silent, scared Kevin. She knew that he could speak, but until the competition reached its end, Alice doubted he’d be able to get a single word in edgewise. His mime act had to stay intact.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“I didn’t want to get stuck with her either.”
“So we’re both the lesser of two evils, huh?”
“I guess.”
He smoked and she stayed silent as the city moved beneath them.
“Who would you have preferred?” he finally asked.
Porter Cole was the obvious answer. Darlene would have been convenient. Although dancing among any bits of food that might miss her mouth and hit the floor seemed even less entertaining than whatever they might come up with. “I don’t know,” she said. “The whole thing is messed up. It wasn’t…it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
Peter stamped out his cigarette and gently placed his arm around her shoulders. Alice went warm at his touch and looked into his eyes again.
“You asked me why I never had a pilot?”
She didn’t want to go back to that. It was a prelude to a fight they had already had, and Alice was too tired for an encore. “Yes…”
“It was called ‘Headliners.’”
Alice searched her memory for any show with that title, but she was only drawing a blank.
“Don’t strain your brain, my lady. It wasn’t picked up.” His hand moved down her arm and stopped at her wrist. Peter’s fingers were calloused from the endless hours he had to have spent with pen or pencil in hand as he searched his memory for anything that could grab a laugh. If he saw the state that her feet were in, he’d see that they had scars in common.
“What was it about?” she asked.
He kept his eyes down as he continued.
“A bunch of comics working your typical joint. My character was…well me. Always trying to get the prime spot when the club was packed. In my version, he was always pushed back in favor of the surprise appearance of some big name or stuck in traffic or too drunk to go on. You know. A lovable screw-up.”
A
t least he had no illusions about himself. Alice found that kind of charming. She didn’t see how the thing would have run more than a season with a premise that was bound to grow stale by the fourth episode, but she wasn’t about to pour salt into the wound he was finally exposing.
“Okay. So what happened?”
He released her wrist and slid his back down the ledge. Almost instantly, she was on the ground at his side.
“Networks thought that familial complications would make it more believable. So they saddled my character with a kid. Single dad stuff is way out of my comfort zone. But I went along. And the kid? Let’s just say he made Marissa look good.”
Alice had to suppress a smile at the thought of Peter contending with a bright-eyed brat and overbearing stage parents who demanded revision after revision in order to place their meal ticket at the center of Peter’s creation.
“But I went along with it. The whole pilot was retooled to feature my son getting into trouble at school. So I had to pick him up and take him along to the club because I couldn’t get a sitter or something. So at the club the kid proceeded to raise hell. Glasses broke, microphones died. I think there was supposed to be like a fire or something leading up to the first commercial, but they didn’t want the kid to come off like a total psycho.” His mouth curved into a wicked smile. “Not that he couldn’t have pulled it off.”
“So… so…”
“So the whole thing played like the worst set in history. And then they tacked this bit on near the end where I finally got hold of the mike. The place was basically empty. But I do my act, the kid applauds, and then there was a voiceover where I talked about family being the best gig at the end of the day.”
It was sugary schmaltz to be sure, but it was the kind of thing that many a middle American audience would latch onto in a flash. No doubt Evelyn and Lenore would have loved such a show.
“So why aren’t you living it up on syndication royalties?” Alice asked.
“Because the kid got all the laughs and the thing was revamped yet again. Ever hear of Toby Time?”
It took Alice no more than a second to do the math. Toby Time followed the adventures of Toby Nicks, a mischievous moppet well past the age of day care who still lingered at the after school program courtesy of his single mom’s ad firm. Toby staved of boredom by leading his younger friends in harmless acts of espionage that got laughs and inadvertently aided his mom’s cause. In one episode, Toby locked his mom’s smarmy rival in a stall with an overflowing toilet, and she wasn’t all that mad when it allowed her the chance to make the big pitch and land a lucrative sneaker account. Now in its fifth season, the show was starting to deal with Toby’s puberty by giving him a little girlfriend in his same boat, and even the mom had a love interest by way of her new boss, a total love-hate relationship. Evelyn and Lenore lapped it up on a regular basis.
“Wow. Tough break, Peter. I’m…I’m sorry.”
He smoothed his hands through his hair.
“What’re you gonna do?”
Peter slowly turned his face to hers.
“And now I have another partner that I didn’t ask for.”
Alice’s sympathy for the man left her in a flash. She was on her feet and glared down at him.
“Wait a minute. So I’m the kid now?”
Peter quickly leapt up. “What? No. No I didn’t…”
“You think I’m about to screw everything up for you, don’t you?”
“Alice…”
“Because I could say the same thing. I don’t want to have to work with you either. And your little story there? Maybe it wasn’t the kid’s fault.”
She started to stomp away when he grabbed arm.
“Let me go!”
“Alice---”
She struggled to get away from him as he twisted her closer. “Let me go!”
“I told you my story because this is the way things work. We’re just game pieces, Alice. Or… or puzzle pieces that don’t interlock. It’s a mess. I know. I don’t know what the hell we’re supposed to do. But I’m not giving up without a fight. And I know you want this, too.”
Alice stopped moving. Peter didn’t relinquish any of his hold. The failed pilot and the judges’ whims aside, how did they stand a chance when she couldn’t stop saying or doing the wrong things in his presence? Then she remembered what her mother had said. He liked her. Alice knew that the feeling was mutual. But if this kept up, they were doomed to stay out of step. That was death to a dancer. “You’re hurting my arm,” she said softly.
Peter released her and backed away. “Sorry about that. Guess I don’t know my own strength.”
She rubbed her arm. His strength was probably going to leave a mark. Alice considered throwing that possibility in his face but quickly thought better of it. She was tired of fighting with him. There was no time for it when they only had a week to work with. “It’s fine,” she said.
“Alice…You’re not the kid. Maybe I should have opened with that. I’m sorry.” He moved back to her and tentatively glided his fingers across the part of her arm that was still throbbing. “Did I really hurt you?” he asked. No more than she had hurt him when she left him behind, but Alice hadn’t ordered the driver to turn back in an effort to immediately set things right.
Peter was different.
“I’m okay.”
“Seriously?”
She took his hand in hers. “Absolutely. What would you have done with the dog act?” she asked to clear the tension.
“Hopefully sent them howling!”
Alice laughed. “They’ll do plenty of that when Ella starts singing,” she said.
“She’s still in this because she’s hot.”
“So is that your type?” Alice asked.
Peter shook his head. “I like a little skill mixed with beauty. You know. Like you.”
He was obviously trying.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“How about to work? You ready to give this a go?”
They didn’t have a choice. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
“I’m game, Peter.”
His entire face brightened. “Then let’s do it.”
The Life Of Alice
Alice followed Peter from the rooftop, and he swiped open the door to his room.
It was already occupied.
Porter Cole was sprawled out on the floor with notebooks and CDs while Louis worked Mortimer’s jaw from atop the bed.
“Hey,” Peter said.
Porter Cole nodded, and Louis didn’t make a sound.
“Hi ya, dance and chance!” That was from Mortimer.
Peter rolled his eyes and looked back at Alice. “Just give me a sec, okay?”
Alice nodded as Peter stepped over Porter Cole’s mess and reached for his own notebook. It was bound with wire and frayed to the point where she thought it might disintegrate. Besides the doomed pilot, how many other failed dreams did he carry around?
“So what’s it gonna be, Dancing Alice?” Mortimer asked.
“Umm…we’re not exactly sure yet. We’re…we’re kind of in the planning stage.”
Mortimer stared at Alice, shifted his eyes to Peter, and finally faced Louis.
“What do you think, buddy?” Louis asked.
Mortimer tossed his head back and erupted in a fit on manufactured laughter.
“Well you’d better plan fast if you want to stay in the game.”
Peter tapped Mortimer’s head and made his way through Porter’s pile again. “Just you watch, dummy,” Peter said.
Mortimer looked at Louis with wide eyes and an unhinged jaw. “Who you calling a dummy?” Mortimer asked.
“If the shoe fits, brother,” Porter said.
Louis set Mortimer aside to sulk and started strategizing for show night with his partner. Peter took Alice by the arm and gently nudged her back into the hallway.
“What do you think?” Peter whispered once they were on the other side of the closed doo
r.
“What do you mean?”
“Like their chances?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “Porter has the female fan base in his back pocket. The kids watching have to like Mortimer.”
Peter nodded. “Agreed.”
“He leaned against the wall and smiled down at her. “But I like ours, too.”
Alice took a deep breath and swallowed. Peter was close enough to kiss, but she didn’t move. It wasn’t that she didn’t want his mouth on hers, but there was too much work to do. She smiled and wriggled away from him for her door.
“Is it free?” Peter asked.
“Yeah. Darlene’s with her new partners.”
“Do you like their chances?” he asked.
Alice paused to seriously consider it. The idea of Darlene slamming back enough hard boiled eggs to rival Cool Hand Luke to the strains of Mozart or Chopin carried with it a novel thrill that would be engaging and destined to go viral. Beyond that? How far could they really take the act? Unless Darlene picked up a violin and one of the oboists started popping pickled peppers by the peck, it would get real old real fast. I think we can take them,” Alice finally said.
They entered the room. Peter eyed both beds. Darlene’s was a sea of messy sheets and discarded pieces of clothing.
“I’m guessing this one is yours,” he said as he flounced down on the neatly made version of Darlene’s mess.
Alice nodded. “You want something to drink?” she asked.
“You buying, I’m taking.”
She went to the mini-bar and pulled out two tiny bottles of rum. After pouring each one out into separate glasses, she cracked open a can of Coke and set the rum fizzing.
“This okay?” Alice asked.
Peter took the glass with a long sip. “Fine.”
He tossed the notebook on the end table and patted the place beside him on the bed.
Alice tensed.
“What’s wrong?” Peter asked.
She took a sip of her drink before she spoke. “Nothing. I just… I thought… you want to work, right?”
He kicked off his shoes. “First things first, my lady. Sit.”