Christmas All Around Us ; The Perfect Time for Love ; Playing for Keeps

by Carla Kincaid

  "I just can't, Lori. I just can't. I wouldn't be able to look myself in the mirror. I wouldn't be able to look Megan in the eyes!"

  "Well, I guess you've made up your mind," Lori said with an encouraging smile. "And if it's worth anything, I think you're making the right choice. You're talented Stacey and you're going to make it to Broadway -- at the right time and in the right way."

  At the right time and in the right way, Stacey repeated to herself as she signed her name on the call sheet Saturday afternoon. She looked at the blank spaces next to the other cast members names. Trish hadn't arrived yet. After making her decision to pass on Trish's offer, Stacey had managed to avoid the actress for the past two days. Now she simply had to steer clear of her today and Sunday and then it would all be over.

  "Hey Stacey!" Gina called. "We got a message from Trish that she wasn't feeling well this morning and she might not make it to the show this afternoon."

  Stacey's stomach did a flip. "Really?" she said tentatively.

  "I'll let you know what's up at half hour but until then you'd better start going over your lines."

  Stacey could hardly believe what she was hearing. Had Trish really gotten sick -- or had she changed her mind? Her original proposal was for Stacey to do the evening show if she came over to Trish's house on Friday night but now it seemed like the actress was calling out for the matinee. Maybe Trish felt bad about what she'd said to Stacey and decided to give her a chance to go on without the quid pro quo? By 1:30 it seemed like that was the case.

  "Alright, Stacey. You'd better start getting into costume," Melissa the stage manager said. "Go on up to Trish's dressing room. Anna will help you get ready."

  "You're gonna be just fine," Anna, Trish's dresser began telling Stacey as she pulled out the duplicate set of costumes made for Trish's standbys.

  Stacey was sitting in the make up chair running lines in her head. She didn't have time to deal with the butterflies in her stomach. She had to focus on nailing her big opportunity.

  "Alright, let's get you into this dress," Anna said.

  Stacey stepped into the garment and Anna zipped it up. She looked at herself in the mirror. Was this really happening? Was she really about to do her first Broadway show? Her thoughts flipped to Megan. Stacey wanted to call her and tell her what was going on but she knew Megan was too far away to make it to the theatre in time. She'd just give her a play-by-play when Megan got home on Monday.

  While she put on her make-up, Melissa came in and started going over important cues with Stacey just to make sure she was as ready as possible to be plunged into the deep end of this pool.

  "Fifteen minutes 'til places!" Gina's voice squawked over the loud speaker.

  "Thank you fifteen," Stacey replied nervously.

  The words had barely come out of her mouth when the dressing room door flew opened and Trish sauntered into the room.

  "Sorry, All. I'm here. I hope I didn't scare you to death, Melissa." She tapped the stage manager on the shoulder affectionately.

  Melissa just shrugged. "I've been through worse," she said as she picked up her script. "You've got fifteen minutes 'til places," she said to Trish.

  Melissa caught Stacey's eye, mouthed "Sorry" and walked out of the room.

  As Anna hurriedly prepared Trish's first costume, Trish smiled at Stacey in the mirror.

  "Sorry for getting your hopes up," she said with a subtly vindictive smile. "I really didn't think I was going to make it out of bed this morning. I had such a hard time getting to sleep last night," she said glaring at Stacey. "But miraculously less than an hour ago I started to feel better. Must have been a passing bug," she said with a shrug.

  Stacey blinked her eyes to hold back the tears that were forming. She knew Trish had done this on purpose to pay her back for not showing up at her house last night.

  "Wow. We almost look like twins," Trish said after slipping into her costume.

  Everything after that was a blur. Stacey let her costume fall to the floor, grabbed her clothes and hurried out of the room. The hallway was bustling with people getting ready for the show so seeing a half dressed actor wasn't anything out of the ordinary but Stacey didn't want people to see her cry. The other cast members might think she was just upset because the star had recovered from her illness and made it to the theatre on time. Stacey was desperate for a place to escape.

  "You wanna chill out in here?" Gina said appearing in a doorway. She nodded to the door marked Stage Management. "No one will bother you in here until intermission," she said softly.

  Stacey looked into Gina's eyes and the same expression that had flashed across the woman's face last week when Trish invited Stacey to lunch returned. But this time Gina let it linger.

  "She can be kind and she can be cruel," Gina said touching Stacey's arm softly. "And you didn't deserve this."

  Stacey appreciated Gina's words but she wasn't sure if they were true. Maybe she did deserve it? After all she had at least considered taking Trish up on her offer -- even if it was just for a moment. Stacey knew there was a part of her that had almost been willing to compromise her integrity to get on that stage and she didn't like that feeling at all. It wasn't something Stacey ever wanted to experience again. If it meant she never got to perform on Broadway, so be it. At least she'd be able to hold her head up and live with herself, Stacey thought. And if she did make it, she'd know without a doubt it was because of her talent alone!

  ***

  Stacey was already awake Monday morning when she heard Megan's front door open and then close. She threw on some sweats and hurried down the back stairs.

  "Welcome home!" she said excitedly when Megan open the door.

  She stepped forward to enter the apartment, but Megan just stood there rigidly with her body blocking the doorway. Stacey didn't know what to make of it.

  "What's wrong? Are you okay?" Stacey asked looking at Megan.

  Maybe she'd gotten sick while she was in New Jersey and didn't want to spread her germs to Stacey.

  "I... I just need some time alone," Megan said stoically.

  Stacey stood there waiting for a more elaborate explanation but Megan just stared at her.

  "What's up Megan? Did something happen while you were in New Jersey?"

  Megan cleared her throat. "I didn't get into the Sero Institute," she finally said. "And I need some time alone to ... To figure out what I'm going to do next."

  Stacey's heart broke for Megan. She certainly understood why she was upset but she was surprised that Megan didn't want any comforting support from her as she dealt with the bad news. If Stacey had something this challenging to deal with she'd certainly want Megan around.

  "Uh. Okay. If that's how you feel," Stacey acquiesced.

  She didn't know what else to say and she certainly wasn't going to force Megan to let her into her apartment. Stacey backed away from the door and watched as Megan slowly closed it.

  "So she didn't say anything else?" Tony asked a few days later.

  "Nope. Just that she needed some time alone."

  "Wow. That's tough," Tony said. But I'm sure she'll come around and call you soon. Maybe she's just not used to sharing her feelings when she's upset?"

  Stacey wanted to believe that Tony was right but over the next several days, Megan didn't seem any closer to wanting to talk to Stacey than she had on Monday. When Stacey sent text messages asking how Megan was doing all she got was one or two word replies indicating that she was alive but not interested in talking. There was still a week left on Megan's sublet of Tony's apartment but Stacey didn't even think Megan had been staying there. She never heard the piano playing or saw Megan going in or out. The only thing left for Stacey to do was go back to life as it was before Megan appeared. Scrounging for auditions, cater-waitering and waiting for Tony to get back from his tour.

  ***

  "Those go out next," Tim, the caterer, said pointing to the tray on the end of the prep table. "Stacey!" he shouted to get her attention. "Gruyer
e and Parmesan beignets," Tim said obviously not for the first time. "Look, I don't know what's up with you tonight but I need you to snap out of it. This hostess has been on my back all night and I can't afford for anything to go wrong."

  "Sorry, Tim," Stacey said apologizing. Gruyere and Parmesan beignets. Got it."

  Stacey scooped up a stack of cocktail napkins and headed toward the swinging door. She moved around the room -- invisible as a person but popular as a mobile food delivery system.

  The main room where the early arriving guests were congregated was at least twice the size of Stacey's entire apartment. She always marveled at the enormity of these Upper East Side homes. Some of the penthouses she'd worked in covered an entire city block. This one was one of the smaller ones -- probably no more than 6 or 7,000 square feet.

  I could stage an entire show in the living room alone, Stacey thought as she smiled politely at the guests reaching for her tray.

  "Gruyere and Parmesan beignets," she repeated each time she approached a new cluster of guests. She extended the tray in one hand and the napkins in the other so each person could pick up a tiny fried cheese ball without dirtying their well-manicured hands.

  "Oh. Just one more," a woman draped in diamonds said as she grabbed Stacey's arm to prevent her from moving on with the tray.

  She piled the last five or six beignets into her napkin covered palm and then dismissed Stacey with a Botox frozen smile. Stacey nodded and then turned back to the kitchen to pick up a fresh tray. As she walked through the door, Stacey had to do a rather dramatic pirouette to avoid crashing into the woman who was frantically pacing back and forth across the kitchen floor.

  "This is awful!" the woman muttered, speaking to no one in particular as she traveled back and forth.

  Stacey stepped to the side to avoid another near collision, wondering why the woman was so upset. Maybe something had gone wrong with the entree Tim was preparing. Stacey looked over at the chef for clarity but his eye-roll made it clear that the woman's frenzy had nothing to do with the meal he was working on.

  "The evening is going to be ruined!" the hostess moaned and then collapsed into a chair her assistant slipped under her just in time. "How am I supposed to entertain my guests without a pianist?" she asked as if addressing an invisible party god.

  "Excuse me, ma'am," Stacey said easing closer to the whining hostess.

  She lifted her head and looked up at Stacey with a confused expression as if she'd realized for the first time she wasn't alone in the kitchen.

  "Did you say you need a pianist for the evening?" Stacey continued.

  The woman's eyebrows knit together. "Do you play?" she asked. The desperation in her voice was in direct contrast to the skepticism Stacey saw etched on the woman's face.

  "No, ma'am. I don't play."

  The woman sank back into her misery.

  "But I know someone who does."

  "Can she read music?" the hostess asked hopefully. "Has she ever played for a private party? This isn't a club, you know. We have sophisticated guests and I need appropriate music for the evening."

  The hostess' snooty attitude almost made Stacey regret saying anything at all.

  "Yes, Ma'am. She has experience playing at private parties." Stacey figured Megan must have played the piano at at least one birthday party at the private school where she worked. That was close enough -- wasn't it? "I have some video of her playing," Stacey said cheerfully.

  The woman sat up straighter as Stacey pulled out her cell phone and searched for the video she'd taken of Megan playing the piano in her apartment one night.

  The woman looked on anxiously and then audibly exhaled about two minutes into the video.

  "Alicia!" she shouted after watching a few seconds of the video.

  A beleaguered mousey woman stepped out from the corner where she stood at the ready prepared fulfill her employer's commands.

  "Call this young woman and get her here immediately! And make sure she has something appropriate to wear."

  With that the hostess disappeared leaving her assistant to handle the arrangements.

  "Do you think you can take another tray out to the guests now," Tim said with a snarky tone once Stacey had given Alicia Megan's phone number.

  "Sure thing," Stacey said grabbing the next tray of hors d'oeuvres and hoping she hadn't sacrificed her own job to potentially get one for Megan.

  Chapter 18

  Megan moved around the apartment quietly even though she was pretty sure Stacey wasn't at home. She just needed to collect the last of her things and take them out to Kim's house and then she'd be done with this apartment and all of its memories.

  Megan let out a sigh as she looked around the room. She would have felt awful for ghosting Stacey the way she had -- if it weren't for the image of her locking lips with Trish that kept invading Megan's mind. Sure, the mature thing would be to have a conversation with Stacey but Megan just couldn't stomach it. It was bad enough knowing she hadn't gotten into Sero but to have to face the heart break of being betrayed again. It was too much. Instead Megan just focused on getting her self situated at Kim's house until one of the jobs she'd applied for came through.

  "Alright, Ms. Green," the man from On Time Movers said over the phone. "We'll be there on the 28th to pick up the piano. I see you're having it delivered to New Jersey."

  "Yes," Megan said with a sigh. "That's correct."

  When she hung up the phone Megan crossed that last task off of her "To Do" list. That was about it, she thought as she looked around the apartment. Everything looked just as it had when she first arrived almost three months ago -- with one exception. The now empty vase that had once been replenished with flowers weekly ever since the day of Megan's first audition sat on the floor beside Megan's box of records.

  Megan kept telling herself to throw the vase away but after disposing of the ridiculous amount of clutter she'd accumulated during her summer stay the trash cans outside had gotten too full. If she put the vase out now, it would have to sit on top of an uncovered can -- in plain sight of anyone who might be taking out her garbage. Megan stared at the vase and shook her head wondering how things had gone so wrong.

  If she'd been a more confrontational person, she would have given Stacey a piece of her mind that very first morning at her backdoor almost three months ago but because she wasn't comfortable standing up for herself, she'd gotten involved with yet another woman who didn't take her feelings seriously. Now there was nothing left to do but what she always did -- run away and put the memory of the person who hurt her as far behind her as possible.

  Megan checked the bathroom one last time and then picked up her phone to order a rideshare back to New Jersey. She was just about to tapped the app when her phone rang. She didn't recognize the number so she let it go to voicemail. Probably a robocall, she thought. But when the same number appeared again a few seconds later Megan's curiosity got the better of her.

  "May I please speak to Megan Green?" a polite female voice asked.

  She didn't recognize the voice but the person on the other end didn't sound like a bill collector or a cold-call sales person. "This is Megan," she said cautiously.

  "Ms. Green, I know this is a last minute request but my employer, Winifred Sturgeon, is in need of a pianist for a dinner party tonight. Would you happen to be available? Your services for the evening will pay $300."

  Megan's eyes flew open. $300 for playing while a bunch of people ate dinner?

  "Yes, I'm available," she answered quickly before the woman realized she must have made a mistake about the pay.