Chapter 55 - Nadia

The next week flew by faster than any of my life.
I was swamped, so I didn’t take any more temp work with Dorian. I had enough money saved up now to last me through opening night, assuming Braden didn’t kick me out of the townhouse. Instead, Dorian and I spent the mornings practicing songs on the roof. We went back and rehearsed all the song from the first act of the show so I could get a feel for them. I’d already practiced them some, but there was a difference between going through the motions as an understudy and practicing them knowing I would be doing it in front of a crowd soon. Dorian was a fantastic partner, and learned all of Braden’s track and lines to better help me prepare. Slowly, one song at a time, I became more confident in my ability to do this.
Dorian also made out with me whenever we took a short rest. Which was nice as a distraction from my anxiety, and nice all on its own.
In the early afternoon, before our real rehearsal, I met with Carmina at the theater. The lead actress in a musical required special attention, Carmina was fond of saying, and she was the perfect person to give it to me. She had me ignore the track movements and focus solely on singing. She would play a song on her iPad, listen to me sing it, and then give me feedback immediately after.
Carmina was fantastic at picking out parts of the song where I wasn’t living up to my potential, and helping me identify how to solve it. She made me sing the low melody for the song Through the Window six times in a row until I hit the notes just right. She also made more changes to the notes, both based on my strengths and weaknesses and based on her own stylistic creativity.
My private singing lessons ended when everyone else arrived for the real rehearsal, with about 30 minutes in between for me to sit in the back and relax my vocal cords before straining them again. Rehearsal itself was a completely different affair than it used to be. Director Atkins was focused and engaged, giving detailed feedback and corrections to both the stars of the show and even the minor background characters. It was as if he truly believed in the show.
After rehearsal, I went home and drank hot tea to soothe my throat from all the singing I had done, and then I relaxed the best way a woman could: by sleeping with her roommates. Ryan one night, Dorian the next. Andy and I had one night where we made love until 3:00 in the morning, again and again until we were sweaty and exhausted and bearing our souls to one-another while recuperating.
It was exciting, and new, and the perfect way to unwind at the end of a very long day. Balancing the three relationships was a fun way to distract me from the opening night deadline hurtling toward me like a freight train of responsibility.
The only problem was Braden.
“You mean he hasn’t shown up all week?” Robbie asked me.
I was working at the bar on Wednesday. We’d had our final dress rehearsal early that afternoon, and it went flawlessly. Even performing in wardrobe and makeup was as easy as could be.
“Nope,” I told Robbie while we filled glasses of beer at the bar. “Not only has he not shown up for rehearsal, but he hasn’t come home. I can only assume he’s been staying with his parents.”
“What does the director think of that?” Jack asked from his usual barstool. “Is he concerned?”
“Director Atkins doesn’t know what’s going on either. He’s not answering his texts. He might not even be performing on opening night, since he missed the final dress rehearsal today.”
“I don’t mean to point out the obvious,” Robbie said across the beer taps, “but it sounds like you’ve totally blown your chance with him.”
I glared back at him. “I realize that. And honestly, I’ve accepted it by now. I had a chance and I ruined it.”
It would have made me depressed if I wasn’t so busy preparing for opening night, but I’d definitely lost whatever chance I had with Braden. If I ever had one to begin with. Maybe we were destined to be a one-night stand in a secluded subway station and nothing more.
“Is he going to kick you out of the townhouse?” Robbie asked.
“Lord, I hope not. The other guys all said they wouldn’t let him, but ultimately it’s Braden’s place. He gets the final say. If I have to move back to Queens…”
“You can always sleep at the bar. There’s a cot in the back.”
“Next to the rat traps and the tubs of frying oil? I’d rather move back in with the Ukrainians.”
Robbie sighed. “At least you still have the other three hunks. I still can’t believe you managed to sleep with all three of them. Even mister just-wants-to-be-friends. Who, by the way, I was totally right about.”
“Not so loud,” I hissed, looking over my shoulder at the crowded room. “We don’t need the entire bar knowing I’m a slut.”
“I, for one, am fully supportive of your polyamorous relationship,” Jack announced. “It makes more sense that way, too. One woman and multiple men, rather than one man with multiple women. Guys have to reload.”
“I appreciate your support.”
“Speaking of support,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “I’ll be there for opening night.” He waved two tickets in the air.
“Jack!” I practically shouted. “You don’t have to do that!”
“Sure I do,” he said reproachfully. “I’ve drank more beer around you than all my wives combined, and I won’t be seeing you around the bar for a while once the show starts. I have to do my part to make sure that theater is as full as can be.”
“I doubt it’ll be a packed house on opening night, but I appreciate the thought.”
“Besides,” he added with a smile that revealed every wrinkle in his kind face, “I want to be able to tell people that I was there when you became a big star.”
There was no hint of teasing or mocking in his voice. He was completely serious. I felt myself getting choked up, so I went around the bar and hugged him.
“Thank you.” I wiped a tear from my eye. “And hey, you should have told me you wanted to come. I’ve got a pack of free tickets to give away.”
Jack grinned and flashed the tickets again. “I appreciate the offer, but these are better. I’m too old to sit in the cheap seats.”
Robbie sighed. “I would come, but I have to work Friday.”
“Aww come on,” Jack moaned. “Call in sick. You never take a sick day.”
“That would be irresponsible. Because our only other good bartender is taking a leave of absence for the next three months.”
“We’ll be lucky if the show lasts three months,” I said. “Things are going well, but that’s just relative to how it went with Tatiana as the lead. Overall it’s still mediocre at best.”
Jack was focused on Robbie. “Fuck the bar. It won’t be the end of the world if it’s slow for one night. You can sit with me. These tickets are in a box with free drinks. And the view from the side would—”
Robbie made a series of shushing noises. “You had me at free drinks. But why aren’t you taking your wife?”
“Wife number five doesn’t like theater. Which is a shame. I should get around to divorcing her and looking for number six…”
Robbie put a hand on my arm. “Can’t wait to see you up on stage! No pressure, but this will be the first show I’ve ever seen.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said, smiling to myself.
***
After a long day of practicing and the dress rehearsal itself, followed by a three hour shift on my feet at the bar, by the time I got home I was asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. That was the nice thing about exhaustion—the deep sleep that followed.
I woke up feeling relaxed and refreshed. I barely even needed coffee, though I still brewed a cup out of habit.
I had the day off. A full day with literally no obligations. What was I going to do with myself?
I started by taking a long, hot bath. An hour of soaking while drinking my coffee, hot liquid on the inside and the outside until my toes were wrinkled and my skin soft.
After that I had lunch with Dorian in the garden. We chatted about how well dress rehearsal had gone. Everyone nailed their lines and track movements. It was challenging running through the entire show all at once with only the intermission as a break, but we crushed it. We were ready.
In the afternoon I decided to go for a walk around the city. Just aimlessly walking through the upper east side, savoring the city and noise all a round me. As I walked toward midtown, I watched the people I passed. People who might come to the show and see me sing. Men and women of all ages and nationalities and cultures. They would sit in little theater seats, hold show pamphlets in their hands that had my name listed next to the character of Jane, and for two hours and change I would have their complete attention.
Tomorrow might make or break my entire career as an actress. I shivered at the thought.
Andy grilled steaks for dinner. Wagyu filets that were so tender they were practically the same consistency as the butter sauce dripping on top. Paired with the asparagus that Dorian sauteed, and a bottle of expensive wine Ryan picked out, it was a wonderful dinner with three of my maybe-boyfriends.
We joked about who was the best lover of the three, then talked about the show. All of us had high hopes for it, even Ryan, who had been staying home and looking for a job the past week. We gossiped about Tatiana and how pouty she must be to miss opening night, and whether she would be there with her grandfather John Vandercant. The conversation was lighthearted between four people who were fast becoming close friends.
None of us acknowledged the elephant in the room: Braden.
After dessert—New York cheesecake with a strawberry drizzle—I went to my room and pulled up Braden’s number on my phone. I must have sent him a hundred texts in the last week, but he hadn’t responded to any of them. I would have been worried if not for the fact that Dorian had called his mother to make sure he was okay.
I’d spent the week feeling guilty and embarrassed. That feeling hadn’t dimmed much, but it was quickly being replaced by annoyance. Adults faced their problems—children ran from them. And Braden’s week of silence was as childish as it got.

Me: The show is tomorrow. Atkins is worried about whether or not you’ll show up, or if you’ll even be ready. It’s bullshit that you’re ghosting everyone because of one bad dinner.

It was therapeutic to tell him off. Braden was being selfish by essentially holding the show hostage. He was acting unprofessional by not putting his personal life aside to focus on The Proposition. I may have fucked up at dinner last week, but everything since then was on him.
And then, to my shock, he replied.

Braden: I’m still figuring things out.
Me: You can figure them out while performing in the show!
Braden: Not while you’re the lead.
Me: What?
Braden: Being around you complicates things. I can’t give my full attention to the show while you’re the lead.
Braden: I’m sorry

The words were a surprise, and then a punch to my gut. I hadn’t just fucked up his personal life. I was now actively inhibiting his professional life as well.
I sank down into my pillow and wanted to cry.
Then I got pissed off about it.

Me: I’m sorry I fucked up dinner with your parents. That’s 100% on me. But don’t you dare blame me for your own cowardice regarding the show. If you want to be the lead, come be the lead. Don’t pretend like I’m the reason you’re afraid to get up on stage.

Before he could respond, I set my phone to Do Not Disturb and went to bed.