“I’m surprised that one didn’t make it to Broadway,” Brielle says sarcastically.
Marina looks at her and giggles. “How sweet. Did you think it was that good?”
“Brielle, don’t,” I say as Brielle steps forward.
“Look, someone has to be honest with her,” Brielle says, looking at me. “And if we’re her friends, we’re going to have to be those people. I’m sorry, Marina but?—”
“Brielle,” I interrupt, “maybe now is not the time.”
“Maybe now is the time! Before she embarrasses herself.”
“What are you talking about?” Marina asks. “What’s going on?”
“Marina, honey,” Brielle says, “you know I think you’re fab. I don’t know you that well, but we’ve had a great time tonight, and Katherine works with you and vouches for you. She says you’re cool. So I feel like maybe someone should be honest with you. I don’t know how long you’ve been chasing this dream of being an actress and a performer and a dancer and trying out for the Rockettes or whoever else you want to try out for, but girl, you can’t sing.”
Marina’s jaw drops. “What are you talking about?”
“You can’t sing,” Brielle says, then looks at Willow and me. “Girls, you’re my best friends. If I were Marina, what would you say to me?”
I press my lips together and sigh. “Marina, have you thought about voice lessons?”
“Voice lessons?” Marina’s lower lip trembles. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say if you auditioned for The Voice, I don’t think anyone would turn around,” I say, and Brielle rubs my shoulder.
“I agree,” Willow says. “None of them would turn around, girlfriend. You can’t sing. And from what I can tell, your writing abilities aren’t really that great either. I’m sorry,” she adds with a nervous giggle. “I don’t want to be mean, but I want to be honest. You have a dream, and if you want to achieve that dream, you have to put in a lot more work.”
“You seemed shocked when I said you couldn’t really dance,” Brielle says gently. “No one’s ever said that to you before, huh?”
Marina looks up, upset. “I know I could stand to get more professional help with my dancing,” she sniffles. “But I thought I had a nice voice. But what about my acting? Do you think my acting’s good?”
I look at Brielle and Willow. They both stare back at me. I don’t know what to say.
“To be fair,” Brielle says softly, “we haven’t seen your acting because you keep bursting into song. Maybe if you just give a monologue—like a theatrical monologue—without the singing or dancing or jazz hands, we could actually tell you what we think.”
Marina nods. “You’re the first people who’ve been honest with me in a really long time.” She takes a deep breath. “Maybe that’s why I’m not getting any of the jobs I’ve gone for. Maybe I need more lessons.” She sighs. “That means more money, and that means I’m not going to get an Oscar before I’m thirty. Or a Tony. Or a Grammy.”
“Girl, you’re never getting a Grammy,” Brielle blurts, then slaps her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to dismiss your dreams. Maybe you’ll get a Grammy one day. Who knows? Maybe you’ll produce an album.” She giggles. “Sorry.”
My phone beeps, and I see it’s Jack.
“Hey, I’m just going to take this,” I say. “Thank you for calling me.”
“If I’d known you’d be this excited to hear from me, I would’ve called earlier.”
“Honestly, it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the awkward situation I’m in right now.”
“Oh? Is a guy trying to hit on you or something?”
“No. It has nothing to do with men. I’m with Brielle, Willow, and Marina.”
“Marina?” he says. “The girl who works for me in the office with you?”
“Yeah. The one with the bright hair.”
“Oh. What’s going on?”
“She’s been singing and dancing and telling us how she wants to be famous and on Broadway, and Brielle—God bless her—can be too honest sometimes. She basically just broke Marina’s heart telling her that she sucks.”
