I head to the bar to order another beer. As I wait, I take out my phone and text my brother Chris in California. We talk—okay, we text—every day, and I like to keep him up to date on my life. Maybe it’s my way of making up for the things I never told him about Aaron. We were close growing up, and he always looked out for me, but somehow I was never able to get the words out, to sit him down, to tell him what I’d done and all that had gone wrong. The least I can do is give him details of my life now that I’m living on my own in New York City. It’s like I’m making up for my silence years ago.
Rehearsal is great. But director is strange.
I send off the note, wondering briefly why I brought up Davis since I’ve got him figured out. Right? There can’t be any more to him than a master craftsman who knows how to use each tool perfectly. We are the tools. And boy, did he know how to manipulate me by telling me I was the one he really wanted for Ava, and then saying the same thing to Alexis.
Chris writes back quickly. Define strange.
But I don’t know how to define strange and I don’t even know why I wrote to Chris about Davis. I make something up. You know, like Broadway director strange.
He replies: I know this may shock you, but I know nothing of Broadway directors. BTW, I’m probably coming to NYC next month for a work trip. Can you make some time for your big bro?
I nearly squeal. I haven’t seen Chris in a year.
Yes!!!!
I put my phone away and Shelby joins me at the bar, pushing a hand through her dark, wavy hair. “On a scale of one to ten, how hot is Patrick Carlson?”
I nearly spit out my beer. But then I realize I’m not the only one in the cast with, you know, eyes. Nor am I the only one who is possessed with feminine hormones.
“Ten million,” I admit. “Is he coming tonight?”
“I heard he was on his way. He’s carved by the Gods or something, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.”
“I worked with him in South Pacific two years ago, and everyone was in love with him. You should have seen our dressing room, and heard all the times we talked about how beautiful he is. Pathetic. Like some sort of shrine made by lovesick teenagers. That’s what he does to women. He was dating Christine in Phantom at the time, but we were still practically clinging to him.”
“Is he still with her?”
“Not that I know of. But he’s a freak of nature. A dancing, singing, acting gorgeous straight man who’s also the nicest guy around? He’ll be taken by opening night if he’s not already dating a supermodel.”
“Yeah, he’s a rare find, isn’t he?” I say coolly, but inside my nerves are unraveling. I need to make a move as soon as he arrives tonight. Then it hits me—what if Shelby has her sights set on him? I don’t want to be the kind of woman who goes after a guy her friend is eyeing. Even though I hardly know Shelby, I have a rule—once we sit down for drinks we’re buds, and I don’t violate the girl code. I’m practically crossing all my fingers and toes as I ask the next question. “Are you going to pursue something with him?”
Shelby laughs, and shakes her head. “No, but if you like him you should go for it. I just like to window shop. I’m taken.” She waggles her hand, showing me a gumball-sized sparkly rhinestone ring. “It’s not a real diamond, obviously. More a promise of a ring to come. I’m involved with someone. He’s an actor too.”
“Oh cool. What’s he in?”
She sighs, and her brown eyes look sad. “Nothing right now. He just moved to Los Angeles since pilot season is starting. He’s hoping to land something soon. He’s working as a personal trainer in between auditions.”
“What about you. Are you acting full-time?”
“I used to moonlight as a hair stylist. I worked at one of the blowout salons for a while, and did a ton of updos for weddings. I loved it. I’ve been doing hair for fun my whole life. But now I mostly do voice-overs to support myself and then this kind of gig, of course, when I land one.”
“That’s so cool that you can do hair, though. I grew up with two brothers and my mom worked all the time, so my French braids are pretty much the worst ever. We’re talking lumpy, bumpy, and strands out of place everywhere.”
“You’d look gorgeous with a French braid, with that perfect long blond hair. I’m going to do yours next time we’re bored at rehearsal because mine are epic. I did hair for Maria when I was a nun in The Sound of Music back in high school.”
“Nun and hair stylist for the school production?”
“Yup. Isn’t that crazy? But we were killing time while the Von Trapp kids were rehearsing so I did Maria’s hair, and voila. As soon as the director saw my handiwork he had me styling Maria’s hair every night for the week-long production.”
“Maybe Davis will enlist you then for your mad hair skills.”
She pulls back and gives me a you-can’t-be-serious look, and for a moment I think I must have offended her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you would have to work double.”
“No. That’s not it,” she says with a laugh. “Do you really call him Davis? No one calls him Davis, except for Alexis. He’s Milo to everyone.”
Red starts to rush to my cheeks. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I just…” But my voice trails off because I don’t know what to say about why I call him Davis. I call him that because he asked me to. Because that’s who he is to me.