Whatever. I may be the world’s most loserish Broadway hopeful, but that’s not a reason to go hurting birds.
The most painful critique of his came down after my senior project, a solo monologue and song-and-dance number from a musical adaptation of Age of Innocence, all upscale NY society women. The perfect part for a well-mannered girl. I felt like I’d internalized the character of May, and I had that polished GA accent so deep in me, I felt like I was even dreaming in it.
And then word came back that he’d seen it—maybe on YouTube, or on a fellow student’s phone—and passed his judgment. Two words. All wrong.
It was as if he alone knew. As if he alone saw the poor girl burning through.
Didn’t didn’t didn’t didn’t didn’t, I emote silently to all of Manhattan. I didn’t think.
Maybe they can all hear it.
6
A cool smile is never out of style.
~The Max Hilton Playbook: Ten Golden Rules for Landing the Hottest Girl in the Room
* * *
Mia
Kelsey has her dance stuff on when I get home. “Petra canceled her jazz dance class—we have the studio for two hours. The one with the piano. Hurry!”
“Oh my god, I’m there.” I hand her a bag—a double-order mistake. “Korean fried chicken with spicy dressing. You’re gonna die.”
“Smells...mmm. I’m eating half now. But only half.” She digs into the bag while I rush into my room to get ready. Kelsey teaches at the dance studio just up 45th Street.
I scrounge up my dance workout clothes. Kelsey’s helping me with my dance moves for the audition, and I’m helping her nail her song. Usually we practice with recorded piano, but it’ll be good for her to do it live.
“Now I want to eat it alllllll!” she calls to me.
“Don’t.” I go out and whip the bag out of her hand. “You’ll get a side stitch.”
“Eating doesn’t cause those.” She takes it back. “I’m eating it all. So how’d it go today. Did you reverse-chase him?”
I grab my coat and my phone and then the marker. I put an X in the reverse-chase box.
“You so rock.”
“Uh, I don’t know.” We get out of there and head down the stairwell.
“Did he respond?”
“It’s gonna take a little more oomph to crack that nut.”
“What happened.”
We burst out onto the street and hoof it down the block. “I acted like I thought he brought me in as a delivery girl as a way of hitting on me, and I was all about letting him down easy. I go, I’m sorry you went to all this trouble to woo me.”
“To woo you,” she snorts. “Love it.”
“I was really going for it. Just putting up this wall of belief, as though my reality is so much stronger than his. Like he says in the book.”
“Which is something you’re actually very good at,” she says. “You know you have a talent for that.”
“Well, he wasn’t all that moved. He opened with disbelief—he was all, ‘that’s what you’re going with? Really?’ and eventually he moved on to informing me that he’d be weeping into the bosoms of supermodels.”
“What a pig,” Kelsey says. “But maybe you were getting to him. Maybe a little?”
We hold up at a corner. “He didn’t show it.”
“Well don’t forget—the target will act like they wouldn’t ever even give you the time of day. But they’ll keep on engaging you, and that’s how you’ll know.”
“I won’t give up, don’t worry.” We grab hands and run across the street before the wall of cars hits. We hop a puddle and get safely to the other side. “He’s messed with the wrong Jerseygirl.”
“Yeah, motherfucker!” Kelsey says. “Don’t you flip my girl’s bitch switch.”
I snort. “Though he has been giving me great tips.”
“He’s a billionaire,” she says. “Billionaires and celebs have to tip extravagantly or people think they’re cheap.”
“True.” We sidestep bits of soggy garbage and head in under the bright red dance studio awning.
“I still can’t picture him as a goofy cowboy,” she says as we climb some more stairs.
“He was great as a goofy cowboy.”
“How did you guys even co-exist in a summer production. And what was he doing there anyway? If he was mister classical?”
“It was part of a crossing genres requirement. Where a teacher puts you in a production out of your comfort zone and the other kids have to help you. He was my lead.”
“Wait, you were leads together?” She stops at the landing. “You didn’t tell me that part.”
“Yup. I had to play a poor rube in love with Max. And him in love with me. It was…whatever.”
We head on into an unfinished hall. “It doesn’t sound whatever,” she says, slightly accusatorily.
“It was,” I say.
She unlocks the door and we go in. It’s a massive room with mirrors all around the perimeter, and an upright Yamaha piano in the corner. We put down our stuff. Kelsey goes over and hooks her iPhone to a speaker and starts up the music. She claps twice. “This music is mellow—what do we need?”
“Back grooves!” I say.
She starts in, rocking her hips, and I mirror her. “You were romantic leads.”
“Yup,” I say. “And it was a summer show, and summer shows are always weird, like this one was full of younger kids, mostly from other schools. It felt like we were stranded on a deserted island, away from our friends. It was the one time we got along. Or I thought we were getting along.”
“Define getting along.” She turns to the side and I copy her. We dance side by side in the mirror.
“Okay, I’m going to confess something to you here—we had kind of a fling. Or, I thought we did.”
Kelsey turns to me, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”
“Not a full-blown fling. More like, the stage kisses were getting hot.”
“Switch!” We hop around to face the east wall. “And?”
“Let’s just say we rehearsed the kiss a lot. It was a joke with us—even knocking around backstage, one of us would say, we need to practice that kiss. And we’d make out. And we’d get bubble tea afterwards and do homework together and stuff.”