“Give me ten minutes. See you soon, love.” And he hung up.
I played around with my phone and looked at the menu. I hadn’t realized I’d skipped lunch because of my hasty preparation for the audition. I wanted something light now to make sure I wasn’t drinking on an empty stomach, so I ordered a shrimp sofrito empanada. Havana Central is known for two things, mojitos and empanadas. I’d found myself here many nights before I worked on Broadway and after. It was just off the beaten path enough from Times Square that many tourists looked right past it, so many people in the theater community came here for early or late dinners, depending on how they preferred to eat. Personally, I don’t like to perform on a full stomach. And if I’m dancing, food slows me down and makes me sluggish. I stick to a strict diet during the week when I’m performing. On a show day, I have a decent breakfast ranging from eggs and toast to granola with yogurt and fresh fruit. If I have a matinee, I may forgo a larger breakfast and have a smoothie from one of the many smoothie places. I would love to say that I grow my wheatgrass and cut it every morning for a shot, but no one will believe that lie. I prefer to let the professionals handle things like cooking. My skills are not domestic, I know that. I can’t cook, I hate to clean, and don’t let me near an ironing board unless you want a hole in your shirt.
“Look at you, celebrating with an empanada,” Brice said as he approached. I stood and hugged him as he kissed me on my cheeks.
Brice was 28, drop-dead gorgeous, had short brown hair, a closely shaved beard, and Caribbean Ocean blue eyes. His suit was tailored to fit his perfectly trim athletic body. And the navy blue suit only made his eyes pop even more. Of course, I knew the suit had been made for him by a tailor he used down in SoHo. Brice was not a labels kind of guy. When you make the kind of money he does, you forgo labels and have people make your clothing. Brice’s parents, Julia and Robin, were the driving force behind the Stark Agency. The elder Starks had been around the business for a few decades, but Brice had always been her agent. In fact, Erika had been Brice’s first client.
“So, tell me about the show,” Brice said as he stripped off his black wool coat and slung it over the back of an empty chair.
I was about to respond when the bartender saw Brice and quickly came over. Trust me, I was used to watching people hop to when Brice entered a room. He had that self-assuredness that people notice. Brice didn’t need to tell you he was important; people just knew that he was. And, of course, I got to be important simply by being in his orbit when we were out in public.
Brice ordered a mango mojito before turning back to me. “Sorry about that,” he said, genuinely apologizing for being interrupted by the bartender. That’s the kind of guy Brice was. For an agent, he knew when he needed to have a firm hand and when he needed to use kid gloves. Us actors are tricky like that.
“Well, I do not know what the show is about,” I told him.
“Still?”
I told him about the audition—the good, the bad and the ugly. He laughed when I described the fiasco. He grew somber when I admitted to breaking down and crying on the bathroom floor. Then he cheered for me when I described my performance.
“I am so proud of you. And I’m glad you chose a song that focuses on love and life and not on hating men for a change.”
“I don’t hate men,” I said. He shot me a ‘do you really think I’m buying that’look.
“So, did they ask you to prepare anything for tomorrow?”
“Nope, they told me to show up at two.”
“Who asked you to the callback?”
“Believe it or not, the composer ran after me. Told me he was a fan. Told me he was straight. Told me he didn’t believe Asher. Then told me to come back tomorrow at two.”
A look of confusion flashed over Brice’s face. “Why did he tell you he was straight? Was he hitting on you?”
“No.”
“So, you became BFFs with this guy?” Brice asked suspiciously.
“It’s not like that. He was roommates with Asher in college. I may have insinuated that he’d also slept with Asher—“
“You didn’t.”
“I did… Thankfully, the guy took it in stride, which is when he told me he doesn’t believe anything that comes out of Asher’s mouth and that most of the people on Broadway were learning to do the same.”
“It’s about time,” Brice said with a twinkle in his eye. “Just remember, I was the one who told you not to date him.”
“You could have said, ‘Hey Erika, don’t date the man whore.’”
“I don’t think he was a man whore yet. I think that happened after you started dating him.”
“Ouch!”
“Erika, I didn’t mean it like that,” Brice quickly backpedaled. “I think living in the city started to change Asher. You were the last to see the signs.”
I knew he was right. Asher had been an amazing boyfriend at first. Even when we were on tour together, he was perfectly attentive. I’d always known about the bisexual thing, and that didn’t worry me for an instant because he’d also seemed so devoted to me. At some point, I just became not enough for him. It took me two years of therapy to come to that realization. I allowed him to place all the blame on me in the press. Admittedly, the video of me yelling a few choice words at him as I lay underneath the stage with a broken leg helped paint me as the villain. Still, he was the one who had betrayed me. He was the one who cheated on me. He was the one who made the poor decisions. I was the one who didn’t recognize the red flags when they were waved in my face like a flag girl at a football halftime show in the South.
“So, what are you up to tonight?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“I’m having an early dinner with the parents. Then we’re going to see three clients opening a play Off-Broadway.”
