“Oh, for goodness sake. You sound like a promo for New York. You can do better than that.” She waved and disappeared, promising to meet him back at the hotel by five.
In ten minutes, the rhythm of the city crept into her feet. In another ten minutes, the cacophony of erratic sounds became a new musical fusion. Car horns, the
patter of feet, bus belches, people’s voices, traffic cop whistles, running motors.
She hummed to herself as she walked toward her destination, and hours later, was still humming when she headed back to the hotel. She heard the shower when she let herself in.
“I’m home,” she called out.
“Beautiful words,” came the reply. “Be right there.”
“It was a joke!”
Home? Jen scanned the tiny room, her tote and purse now on the desk, her shoes off and near the bed, a newspaper lying around on a chair and Doug’s belt, wallet and sundries strewn. Messy, but almost comfortable. Did it feel like a home?
“Don’t get so dramatic,” she mumbled, stretching out on the bed.
Doug appeared a minute later, wrapped in a towel. He leaned over and kissed her. “So, tell me all.”
She felt herself smile as she thought back. “I am definitely an A-1 tourist! Radio City was amazing. I even paid to be part of a small private tour. Rehearsal halls, dressing rooms, even the lighting booth and projection room. And the Art-Deco
— the grand foyer — really deserves an Oh-My-God! And that’s what kept coming out of my mouth the whole time. So much fun.”
“Yep. You’re an A-1 tourist,” he began while pulling on his pants, “who could be spotted a mile away with her eyes looking skyward instead of around her.”
“Oh, stop. I was perfectly safe. And then I saw a show.”
He paused to look at her. “Really?”
“Just lucky. I stumbled onto the half-price ticket booth for same day shows, and suddenly, I was Carol King.”
“Ah-h. Beautiful. Perfect choice for you. You’re sure beautiful to me.”
Ignoring his compliment, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.
“I loved it, but ‘perfect’ would have been if you were with me. I had no one to share my pleasure with.”
He kissed her once more. “Sweetheart, I would have seen it again just for you.”
“Again?”
“Sure. I’ve seen many productions. I need to feel what’s out there, not just read about it.”
“And here I thought writers sat in their garrets and imagined stuff.”
He shook his head. “Jennifer, Jennifer, Jennifer. I expect more from you. You’ll soon see that we need to live in the real world if we want to connect with an audience. An audience is people!”
She waved and disappeared into bathroom. “My turn in here. Oh, I forgot to ask.
How was your day?” God, she sounded like a caring wife.
“I’ll tell you later. Just stay in your happy mood.”
Uh-oh. She didn’t like the sound of that.
##
A sage green sleeveless dress, strappy sandals and dangling earrings. Jen checked herself in the bathroom mirror and gave her hair one last brush stroke.
Redheads always looked good in green, and auburn hair fell into that category.
Ready for the evening, curious to meet Doug’s friends, she was satisfied she’d hold her own.
“Okay, I’m rea—
He was on the phone but looked up when she spoke. His eyes shone and he emitted a low whistle as he talked back into the receiver. “Can’t wait for you to meet her, Steve. And you’ll be my second pair of ears at dinner with these producers.” He disconnected and let his gaze travel from her head to her feet. “I should ask you to stay here until showtime. No one will be able to concentrate on anything but you. I know I won’t!”
She felt heat rise to her face—which had probably turned pink. Something that never happened at work even after receiving a compliment. “I didn’t want to let you down — meeting your high-toned friends and all.”
“No more high-toned than we are, sweetie. Except…
She tilted her head and waited.
…the evening is turning into a business meeting.”
“How did that happen?” She put up her hand. “No, don’t answer. Let’s go back a bit. How was the new lead for The Broken Circle? I thought she was the one question on your mind.”
“A real pro. She did interpret the role a bit differently, but it fit. Staging a play is collaborative, Jen. I had to learn that. I thought the writer was king.”
