“Perfect, stay just like that,” he said, snapping a photo of me with his iPhone.
I sprang up from the ground like a puma. “You did not just take a picture of me!”
“Oh yeah, I plan to sell it for big bucks once you’re a Broadway star,” he joked. “Now, let’s get to work.”
For the remaining hour and a half, Charlie and I continued to break down my scenes, focusing on character choices and meaningful blocking. The practice was like muscle memory, the questions to ponder and the endless possibilities of how to unravel this character’s motivations, goals, and emotional arc all flooding back to me in a wave of nostalgia.
We ran the scenes at least a dozen times, and when I was still defaulting to sneaking glances at the stashed pages tucked inside my sleeve, Charlie furrowed his brows. “Um . . . the audition is two days away. When were you planning on being off script?”
“I . . . I don’t know. It’s a security blanket, and every time I try to rehearse without it, I can’t seem to get the lines to stick.”
“That’s because you’re still just saying the words. But, you need to believe them, embody them. Then, it won’t feel like acting.”
“The audition song was a disaster. I practically ran the accompanist out of the room.”
“Oh, so that’s who I saw peeling down the hallway like the roadrunner getting chased by the coyote,” he joked.
“It’s not funny. I was bad, Charlie. Like really bad. I’m not going to be ready.”
“You’re just getting in your own head, which is normal before this big of an audition. You need to stop overthinking it so much. You were Marley. I saw it and they saw it. Now you need to see it.”
“What if I can’t? It’s happened to me before. I never told you what happened at the Wicked callback I had a few years ago. I completely choked. Well, technically I mooed.”
“Mooed?”
“Never mind. Let’s just say I botched it big time. I couldn’t take the pressure.”
“Yeah, but think about who you were then and who you are now. Do you really think you’re still that same girl?” he asked.
With all my old insecurities and self-doubt bubbling back up to the surface, as much as I wanted to tell him I wasn’t, it was hard to be sure. “You know what, I think I’m ready to call it a day.”
“Sure, whatever you want. Feel like grabbing a drink or something? There’s a pretty cool spot right downstairs,” he said.
“Thanks, but I can’t tonight. Gabe’s been trying to ease my stress these past few weeks by plying me with carbs and butter. I really appreciate all of your help with getting me ready, though, mentally and physically, for this whole thing. I don’t think I could have done it without you. So, definitely a rain check on the drinks—my treat.”
“Absolutely. We’ll have a proper champagne toast when you get the part.”
“How can you always be so sure?”
“Because you’re BrAvery Lawrence,” he answered without missing a beat.
“One saucy rendition of ‘Big Spender’ more than a decade ago does not a brave person make,” I joked, eyeing him playfully.
“You know, it wasn’t the song that earned you that nickname.” Charlie turned me around so we were both facing the smudged mirror. He leaned in close to my ear, his face so close to mine, and whispered, “If you could only see what everyone else sees,” and squeezed the top of my shoulder before heading out.
I stayed in the studio for another hour until a janitor said he needed to clean the room for the night. I glanced down at my watch. It was after 8:00 p.m., well past when I told Gabe I’d be over to his apartment. I fished my phone from my bag and saw I had three missed calls from him and two texts. I dialed him back as quickly as I could.
“Oh good, you’re not dead,” he joked, picking up the call before it even had a chance to fully ring.
“I’m so sorry. Rehearsal didn’t go well . . . again, and I stuck around the studio a little longer than I planned on.”
“Don’t worry about it. I set some dinner aside for you. What time do you think you’ll be here? I can throw it in the oven.”
“I know I said I’d come by tonight, but would you be upset if I just head back to Bushwick? With the audition right around the corner, I could use a good night’s sleep.”
“Oh, Ave, any chance I could persuade you to come here instead? I have something I want to talk to you about and besides, I’ve been missing you. If you have to go home, I understand, buuuuut if you can come by even for a little bit . . .”
I sighed, knowing I couldn’t resist the invitation. He’d been so patient and so understanding of my ups and downs over the past few weeks since we got back from our trip, and truth be told, I missed him too.
“Aww . . . you’ve been missing me?” I asked sweetly.
“More than you know,” he replied.
“Oh, damn you and your charm!” I teased. “I’m on my way.”
I hurried out of the building, hopped on the E Train to Tribeca, and jogged up the block toward Gabe’s apartment. It was hard to believe that less than four months ago, I showed up at his front door not even knowing he’d be on the other side. None of it made sense then. And while I still couldn’t explain the how, with each day that passed and our relationship blossoming, the why was becoming more and more clear.
Like the ghosts in A Christmas Carol who revealed the past and present so that Scrooge could reconcile his future, the phone booth had given me the opportunity to reconstruct my own. I’d reunited with the man I loved, reignited the career I always wanted, and as long as I had Gabe and Manhattan, my future looked pretty damn bright.
Chapter Thirty-Six
I buzzed into Gabe’s building, and he had the door flung open before I even passed the lobby. He rushed into the hallway and scooped me up into a big hug, his arms tight around me, and lifted me right off my feet. Kissing me playfully with quick smooches to my cheek, he pulled back, setting me down, and said, “Damn, I’ve missed you.”
“Oh good, I was worried you greeted all of your visitors like that. I guess absence really does make the heart grow fonder. If I’d known I was in for that kind of a reception, I would have stayed away even longer.”
“Oh, honey, you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.” He waggled his eyebrows mischievously, a sexy grin sweeping over his face, and pulled me by the hands into the apartment. “Sit. Relax. Let me pour us a glass of wine. I grabbed a few bottles of that pinot noir that you loved from the Finger Lakes.” His voice disappeared as he turned and made his way to the kitchen.
“What are you up to? What am I missing?” I called out to him as I surveyed the immaculate living room for clues. Did he have a vanilla-scented candle lit?!
He came back into the room carrying two glasses. “Can’t a fella just woo his lady?”
“No, please woo away, but this feels a little too good to be woo. I mean, true. C’mon, what’s going on?”
Gabe chuckled at my misspeak and handed me a glass. “Cheers, to us.” He lifted his and clinked it to mine. I continued to eye him suspiciously as I took a sip, his face distorted through the bulb of the bottom. He scooched a bit closer to me on the couch, took my wine, and set it down beside his before taking my hands into his own.