Gabe peeked his head inside, his face full of concern. “Um . . . everything okay? You planning on getting out of the cab orrr . . .”
“Oh yeah, of course, sorry, sorry!” I said, shoving my phone in my pocket and reaching for his hand.
He slid one of his arms around me, the other pulling our suitcase in tow, and asked, “So, you ready to get home?”
“Actually,” I said, more confident than I’d felt about anything in a long time, “I am.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Three weeks after returning from Paris, just days before my final audition, I turned the key and pulled open the studio door to the rehearsal space I rented for the afternoon. Inhaling the smell of freshly Windexed windows and piney waxed floors, I set my bag and water bottle on the ground and waited for the accompanist. It was an investment, but with the Marley Is Dead audition just two days away, I couldn’t cut corners now. Mimi’s had been a great place to prepare at first, but over the last few weeks, I was finding it harder and harder to focus, so I booked four rehearsal sessions at Ripley-Grier Studios in Midtown for this final push.
I pulled out my character shoes and slid them on over my stockinged feet. Hearing footsteps behind me and the door creaking open, I fully expected to see Charlie, who said he would stop by as soon as his shift was over. But when I turned, instead of Charlie, a familiar man joined me in exclaiming, “You?!”
At our simultaneous epiphany, we both jumped back to take in the other. The pianist from the Marley Is Dead auditions was much taller than I expected, then again, he had been seated the last two times I saw him.
“How? Why? Did you know I was going to be here?” I asked, wondering if this was more than just a coincidence? Another gift of the phone booth?
“If I knew it was you, do you think I would have been so surprised to see you?” he said, rolling his eyes. “I freelance for the studio and pick up accompanist work during my slow seasons.”
“Isn’t this some sort of conflict of interest? You accompanying me? I just want to make sure I’m not breaking any rules that could disqualify me from the final audition or anything.”
“Actually, I’m not working the last audition. I’ve got a gig on one of Royal Caribbean’s newest ships. I leave tomorrow. I’ll be spending my nights playing piano in the sunset lounge and my days on the beaches in Mykonos. I can’t wait. So, you see, no conflict. Okay, just to clarify, though, you have the room reserved for four hours but I’m only contracted for two, so you tell me, what do you want to start with?”
He spoke as he strode over to the black baby grand set in the corner of the room, rested his satchel by one of the thick piano legs, and took a seat on the bench, placing a folder on the stand in front of him.
I dug the sheet music out of my bag and walked it over to him. “This is the new song they want the Marleys to perform at the final audition,” I said, passing it over the piano. “Hey, if we’re going to spend the next couple of hours together, we should probably at least know each other’s first names. I’m Avery,” I said, extending my hand.
“And I’m ready,” he said, straight faced, not even lifting a finger from the piano. “Do you really want to be wasting time with pleasantries when you have a Broadway audition in two days?”
I pulled my arm back and crossed it over my chest. “No, I guess not.”
“Okay then, let’s get started.”
As we approached “Ready’s” two-hour finish mark, my voice was growing raw and the notes were not sounding nearly as strong as they had been last week. Not even close. With every clunker I hit, Ready’s face puckered dramatically, showing no attempt at hiding his horror and even less restraint in calling me out. After a voice crack that practically knocked him off his piano bench, Ready slammed down the keyboard cover with a huff.
“I think that now would be a good time to call it. We could definitely both use a break.” He packed up his music, shoved it into his bag faster than I thought humanly possible, and scurried from the room, certain to not return.
My rehearsals had been going so well until these last few days, our Europe trip igniting a kind of fire under my skin I hadn’t felt in years. But now, with the audition looming so close, nerves were starting to take hold again. Notes I was hitting easily last week felt completely out of my range, my throat literally buckling under the pressure of this huge opportunity, and I couldn’t help but fear that this upcoming audition would be a repeat of the past.
I sat back down beside my bag and grabbed my water bottle, taking such a huge gulp that it ran down the wrong pipe, causing me to suddenly cough and choke violently. Water sprayed out of my mouth and across the mirror in front of me, and the drips slid down like rain on a window.
Charlie peeked his head into the room and tiptoed past the doorframe. “Everything okay in here?” He spied me wiping water from my face and then the mirror with the inside of my sleeve.
“Yup, all good now.” I cleared my throat, the slightest hint of a tickle still sitting underneath my raw vocal cords. “I really appreciate you coming to help me out. The first two hours have been brutal. I am hoping to God that the next two go better.”
“Well then, we’ll have to make sure they do.” He offered me a hand, motioning for me to get off the ground. “Rise, it’s time to do our warm-up exercises.”
“Charlie, these are stupid,” I whined.
He cocked his head to the side and stared back at me, insistent. “They are not stupid. They are necessary. Now, repeat after me. The lips, the teeth, the tip of the tongue.”
I jokingly rolled my eyes and repeated, “The lips, the teeth, the tip of the tongue.”
“Was that so hard? Okay, next let’s shake out our bodies. Arms, head, torso, hips, shake, shake, shake. Root your feet and let yourself flop about like an electric eel.”
My brain flashed back to the pulverized octopus body bouncing around our cutting board at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. Flop, flop, flop. The tentacles springing off the surface with every whack of the mallet.
“Avery, why aren’t you shaking your body like an electric eel?” Charlie chastised.
I followed his instruction and let my limbs go limp, waving them around like one of those huge blow-up dancing inflatables that get propped on top of car dealerships to attract buyers.
“Yes! Finally!” Charlie said. “Keep it going for another sixty seconds. This is going to help you shake out your pent-up energy and reset to neutral before you need to get into the mindspace of your character.”
I shook my body with all my might for one more minute until I was practically breathless and sweating.
Charlie called out, “Okay, last exercise. The silent scream.”
“No. Absolutely not. I look completely ridiculous when I do the silent scream.”
He nodded his head with a wicked smile. “Oh, I know, consider it my payment. Now, let’s go. All the emotion you have deep down inside you, let it out without making a single sound. Use the whole space, really feel it. Go.”
“Ugh,” I grunted, but still got down on my knees, took a breath to cue I was ready to begin, and then proceeded to writhe around on the floor making a face similar to that of the Scream mask and pulled my hands through my hair like a woman crazed.