Doug shifted in his seat. His gaze swept both sides of the booth. “I’m a writer. I worked hard and got lucky, too. I have a new play, and its debut will be here with the Commonwealth Regional Theater company. And that’s as far as I’m thinking.”
Jen heard nothing after Commonwealth. Her choir, The All-City Chorus, rehearsed at that theater twice a week, and she’d be there in the morning. “‘Of all the gin joints…’” she murmured.
She’d never doubted his talent, and she’d been right. His very first play had been staged in college. A rare honor. He’d been thrilled, of course, but shy about it.
He used to say that writers were too insecure to brag. And now, he’d been modest in front of her friends. It seemed he’d been totally focused on his craft while living in New York.
“Congratulations,” she offered. “Sounds like you’ll be busy with rehearsals and whatever—for a little while, and after a successful run here, poof! Back to Broadway. Works well for me.”
“Writing your own script, Jen?” Doug’s eyes gleamed. “Sorry to disappoint. I didn’t renew the lease on my New York apartment because….I’m also this year’s playwright-in-residence at our alma mater. If The Sanctuary goes to Broadway, I’ll commute.”
She needed air.
“I’m back, Jen. And tomorrow I’m hunting for new digs. I can’t stay with my sister indefinitely. Any suggestions?” His glance traveled from Jen to the others, and she sighed in relief at the change of topic. An objective, neutral topic.
Boston sported a dozen or more neighborhoods attractive to singles.
“It really depends on your budget,” said Liz. “In this town, a one-bedroom can run anywhere from sixteen hundred to double that a month.”
“I’d like to be close to the theater, if possible.”
“Then that would be downtown,” said Evan slowly. “A great choice.”
Could the night get any worse? First the theater, now Jen’s neighborhood—a walking neighborhood where she could run into him at any time. “I doubt he can afford it.”
In unison, all eyes turned toward first toward her, then toward Doug.
“She’s got a point, man,” said Even. “But there are other great locations.”
“There sure are,” said Jen calmly now. “Many good areas. You don’t need to be downtown.”
Doug’s eyes narrowed. “Any particular reason, Henny-Penny?”
Liz coughed and hid her mouth. Matt looked away. Not a shred of acting material in them.
“No reason at all.” Jen waved her arm in dismissal. “Search the whole city.
Means nothing to me if you go into debt.” Deflection might work.
“For crying out loud, I might have known,” said Doug with a sigh. “The starving playwright thing…. Well, I’m not quite there, and you don’t have to worry I’ll be asking for a loan. I do know how to budget.” He chuckled and looked around the table, making eye contact with each person for a moment. “Although I seem to be in a minority among the financial whizzes here.”
Everyone laughed. “Financial whizzes believe in budgets, too,” said Liz.
“Who knows?” Doug said. “One day soon, I might be asking for advice.”
And that’s when Jen knew that Doug had turned her friends into his friends, too.
Chapter 2
Jen signed her bill and got ready to leave. Hanging around for an evening with Doug was not going to happen. And she did have a rehearsal in the morning—
not that an early start time had ever impeded her evening activities in the past.
“Hang on a sec. Look, Jen, karaoke’s about to start. Go on. Sing. Remember way back one Christmas in Woodhaven…?”
Oh, God. Don’t go there…don’t go back to a time when happy endings beckoned. When she used to look as eager and hopeful as Doug did right now!
Would it be easier to sing something and put an end to all this nonsense? As a kaleidoscope of titles flashed through her mind, she smiled her herself. Perfect.
She’d send him a musical message.
“If you’re sure you want a song from me, okay. But don’t complain afterwards.”
Escaping the booth, she quickly made her way to the emcee. He worked the gig every weekend and knew her.
“Jennifer Delaney! Lucky us,” he greeted her, handing her the mic and the song list. “What’s on for tonight?”
She scanned the list. “Right there,” she said, pointing at Gloria Gaynor’s name.
“Let’s get the place hopping.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Okay with me, sweetheart. Nail it.” He turned toward the diners. “To start the evening off, we have one of Boston’s own, one of our regulars — and I think she’s ready to rock the house!” With a flourish, he handed the mic to her. She grasped it as though she were in a concert arena, twirled and waved at the audience.
“Ready?” Their noise assured her. She nodded at the emcee. “Let’s go.”
The piano chords echoed, her voice accompanied them. I Will Survive…. And she took the crowd through the heroine’s story. How the boyfriend tried to hurt her by leaving. And then the outrage of him showing up again, uninvited. But, I
Will Survive.
