Wicked White
Page 63

 Michelle A. Valentine

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
When the car is out of reach, I stop running and stand in the street. Horns blare all around me as the cabbies curse at me to get out of the way, but I can’t make myself move, knowing the man I love is running away from me yet again. Why would he come here and then leave without seeing me?
Then it hits me. He did see me . . . and I’m sure he’s thinking the worst about Shane kissing me. It’s not what he thinks.
My legs wobble as all the anger, sadness, and guilt overwhelm me at once. I need to talk to him and explain. He needs to know that this thing between us isn’t over for me.
I fish my cell out of my back pocket and dial his number. On the forth ring it goes directly into a voice mail without a greeting. “Ace, I know you saw me. It’s not what you think. Come back. Let’s talk. Let me explain. Call me, please.”
It’s a long shot to call him, because he’s never answered any of my other calls, but I have to at least try. I need to put the ball back in his court. Now all I can do is continue to wait.
IRIS
Ms. Easton?” the male voice on the other end of my cell asks.
“Yes, this is Iris,” I reply, wondering who the man is, because the voice I don’t recognize at all.
“This is Mark Talsman. I’m directing Forgiving Lesley, and I would like to have you come back in and read for me. I know you auditioned for Sylvia, but I want you to read for the lead role of Lesley.”
My mouth drops open and I gasp. It’s been nearly two weeks since I auditioned for that play. I just figured that I didn’t get it, so this call is like a dream. My very first callback from a director, and he’s offering to allow me to read for the starring role on a new Broadway play? What planet is this?
“Are you there?” Mr. Talsman asks.
“Yes! Yes, I’m here, and yes, I would love to read for the role of Lesley,” I answer, unable to contain my giddiness.
He chuckles slightly. “Great. Be back at the theater at ten sharp, and make sure you bring that same moving performance with you.”
“Yes sir. I will. Thank you so much.”
After I thank him again, he ends the call and I find myself twirling like a lunatic in the middle of a busy Manhattan sidewalk.
I can’t believe it. My dream—it’s actually happening.
I burst into tears, heartbroken that I can’t thank Ace in person for coming into my life, shaking the shit out of things, and making me a better performer. I owe him my gratitude, even if he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.
Not knowing how else to reach him, I search for the only number I have to connect with him and dial it. I haven’t tried this number in two weeks—not since the day I saw him driving away from me. I used to call it daily, but every single one of my attempts went unanswered. It will probably be no different today, I just need to hear his voice. I want to share my fantastic news with him.
The number rings and the automated voice comes on the line. The message I leave isn’t too long, not too short, but I hope he actually listens to it, because God, I miss him so much.
I pause, not knowing what else I can say, so I simply hang up. A tear leaks down my cheek. There’re so many emotions flowing through me: hurt, pain, anger, but most of all overwhelming sadness for the loss of the relationship I had with him. I thought I meant more to him. I would think what we had would at least warrant a phone call to tell me that he never wants to see me again if that’s how he truly feels, and above all else, I wonder what he came to say to me at my apartment that day but never got the chance to.
I quickly dial the next person I can’t wait to share the news with.
“What’s up, Dancing Queen?” Birdie asks excitedly before she even mutters a hello.
“I’m fabulous,” I say with a dreamy sigh.
“Okay, out with it. I’m on pins and needles here waiting. Did you get a callback from your last audition?”
“Yes!” I squeal. “But that’s not the best part.”
“What could be any better than that? Isn’t that what you’ve been dreaming of—finally landing a role on Broadway?” she asks, and my heart pounds ninety miles a minute.
“I got a callback for the lead role.” Even I can hear the excitement in my voice as I tell her my news.
“Shut the fuck up!” She giggles, clearly delighted. “The lead. Wow! Congratulations, Iris. That’s great news! When do you go back to read for that part?”
“Tomorrow morning. I’m nervous as hell,” I admit. “I wish you were here for moral support.”
“Aw, me too. I would be there if I could, you know that. It’s just hard to walk away from my job at Angel’s. Tips are really adding up, and I can’t miss out on the cash. Me and Grandma need it, you know.” I can tell she’s frowning, and I want to let her off the hook by showing her I understand.
“Well, you can make it up to me. If I get the role, then I’ll pay for you and Adele to fly up and watch the show on opening night. Deal?” I ask.
“You might as well book our tickets then, because I know you’ll get it.” There’s no waver or teasing in her voice. “You got this, Iris. You were born to shine on Broadway.”
I smile, loving the fact that through all the ups and downs in my life, Birdie has always been there for me. She’s more like a sister than my best friend, and I love her to pieces. She and Adele are the only people I have left in my life who truly love me back.