He calls back, “I’ll pick you up at your dressing room.”
“Like literally pick me up? Off the ground?”
He doesn’t seem to get my humor as he replies, “I’m on the phone.”
“Oh, sorry!”
My smile grows the closer I get to my dressing room. Broadway. The big city. The one they say never sleeps. If I can make it there, I have made it. Period. And to be dancing as the lead female in a hit musical when I arrive! Wow.
I smile to my reflection, sagging roses in a vase to my right as I whisper, “It’s a dream come true.”
Chapter Seventeen
LOGAN
A text comes through as I climb into my Jeep. I don’t know why at first I think it might be Samantha. Haven’t heard from her in days. Except when I briefly talk to her at the theater. Not that I’ve been welcoming any kind of contact. It’s been fucking difficult to be as cold to her as I’ve been, but I have to protect myself. Every time I see him touching her crushes me a little bit more. I never thought I was the jaded type, but now I realize how people become that.
“Hey Ms. Galloway, got your text and thought I’d call you back.”
“Are you nearby, Logan?”
“I’m in the parking lot still.”
“Can you come back up? I have something I want to say to you.”
Frowning, I hop out and pocket my key fob. “On my way.”
I hope I don’t run into Samantha, but there’s no way they’ll be on the same elevator or even the same floor. That would be too fucked up.
I’m safe.
Subterranean parking garages, such as this one, have a distinct smell. Even with the clean-energy air of our times, there’s a staleness to it from lack of wind and the depth of how far it goes down. I clear my throat as I head for the two elevators that lead to the biggest theater in Atlanta. It needs a paint job down here. The scuffs aren’t too bad, but it doesn’t have the shine that the lobby, theater, and courtyard have.
Why am I even thinking about this stuff right now? Oh right. Anything to distract me from that fucking guy.
The elevator doors open revealing Samantha and Asher, pressed together, talking about something that evaporates as they see me. She smiles with zero awareness that when she holds his hand she holds a knife in my heart, too. “Logan, you’re still here!”
I mutter, “Galloway called me back up to the theater.” The lovebirds exchange a look that makes me ask, “What?”
Sam is bursting with news. She’s not sure if she should tell me, but she just can’t help herself. “I’m going to Broadway, Logan! She’s probably going to tell you that you’re coming too!”
I ask, “You coming?” and Asher’s smile flickers.
“Of course, I’m going. That’s why I’m down here. What makes you think I wouldn’t go?”
Samantha interjects, “Logan wasn’t meaning anything by that. It was just a question.”
Asher is clocking me. “Sure it was.” He pushes the button for the elevator, which was waiting without anyone having called it away yet. The doors swish open and he guides the girl who was supposed to be my future bride, away.
I grit my teeth.
She calls after me, “Tell me what she says!” When I don’t respond, Samantha insists, “Logan, text me!”
“I will.”
Hope I don’t get this promotion. I used to want this so badly, and part of me still does, but it’s tainted now. Is this the price I have to pay? Have I been just deluding myself this entire time by loving somebody who could never love me back? I was fine just being her friend because I was around her all the time, a constant part of her life. I was happy.
I never had to endure some other guy kissing her.
I can’t think of anything past that without having bile rise to the back of my throat. No way I can stomach the idea that they’ve had sex. She seems the same, not that it would show. Would it? I’m making myself nuts. Stop.
The theater is echo-quiet save for two technicians. One shouts to the other, “The blue gel didn’t come on after the second act,” his voice ricocheting off an empty auditorium.
“Must have burnt out.”
Burnt out. The curse of any performer after years of striving and not getting exactly where you want to be. I heard of this phenomena, but I’ve never been it. I’m at the beginning. Whatever Galloway says in there could put me on the path either up or down. Up might even be down it means I have to… Stop thinking like this. You don’t even know what she’s going to say.
Show up and shut up.
Maybe she will set you free.
That’s what you want, isn’t it?
I rap on the office door and open it as she calls, “Come in.”
She slides her glasses off and holds them in her hand as she rests a graceful wrist on the desk to her left. Dancer-legs that haven’t lost their shape cross in a simple black dress meant for you to look at her face, instead, and take her seriously. “I’ve been watching you.”
Taking a seat, I lean forward on my elbows, concentrating on her. “Is that a good thing?”
“I have a question I hope you don’t mind my asking.” She pauses, pushing the glasses away with one finger before she meets my eyes again. “It’s a little personal. You can tell me no.”
A smirk tugs. “I’d like to know the question first.”
“Don’t get too excited. I’m not coming on to you.”
Leaning back, I chuckle, “Got it. Well if it makes you feel good, my answer might not have been no.”
“Even if the entire time you and I were having wild passionate sex, you would’ve been thinking of Samantha?”
Glancing away from her piercing stare, I mutter, “Oh, so that’s the question you were going to ask.”
“It’s none of my business, except for it is. I want you to go
