“I’ll be there waiting for you.”
He hung up the phone, and I slipped the phone back into my coat pocket. I picked up my pace, but I still watched where I stepped. The last thing I wanted was to twist my ankle or break a leg the night before the show opened. Admittedly, that would be just my luck.
I got back to the Manhattan Plaza and waved at the night guard.
“Your show still opening tomorrow?” she asked.
I sadly couldn’t remember her name, but the guards were knowledgeable about the people in the building and all our projects. Heck, I found out more about what’s happening around New York by chatting up the guards than I do from reading Page Six inThe Postsome days.
“It is.”
“You excited?”
“That and a bit terrified.”
She chuckled. “Break a leg. My parents, cousins, and I are all coming to see it next week with the kids.”
“Great. I hope the kids enjoy the show. We like to think we have something for audience members of all ages.”
“My niece is a sophomore at LaGuardia High, so we try to see as many shows as possible.”
“LaGuardia, that’s the High School of Music & Art and Performing Arts?” I asked. I think I had it right, but it’s not like I pay that much attention to public schools since I don’t have children.
“Yep. That’s the one.”
“Well, let me know when you attend. I’d be happy to show her around backstage.”
“That would be amazing,” the guard said, clearly surprised I would offer. “I’ll let you know what night it is we’re going to be there. Are you planning on taking any vacation days before the first of the year?”
I barked out a laugh. “I won’t see vacation days until after the Tony’s in June—if I’m lucky. We’re in it for the long haul…fingers crossed.”
“Great. Have a good evening.”
“You too,” then I started walking away. I turned around and said, “And I’m not joking. Let me know when you’re coming. I’ll give you the backstage tour. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Ms. Saunders.”
I turned around, parting of me wondering what Christmas bee had landed in my festive bonnet as I hit the elevator button. It dinged open immediately. I got on, hit the button for my floor, slunk against the car’s back wall, and enjoyed the ride up.
The elevator door dinged open. The popping sound of a cork interrupted my thoughts. Johnny stood in the hall with two champagne flutes and an uncorked bottle that he immediately poured. I was barely out of the elevator when he thrust a flute in my hand.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love the gesture, but what exactly are we celebrating?”
“I got a job.”
“What?”
“Yep. They’re revivingPassion,and I’m playing Giorgio Bachetti.”
“Oh wow! I didn’t knowPassionwas being revived this season.”
“It’s a quasi-British import from the Donmar Warehouse in London. You know the director who loves to have the actors play instruments on stage. The entire ensemble is only six people. I landed the job because I was a flutist in marching band in high school. Never knew that would land me a job on Broadway.”
“How long has it been since you picked up a flute?” I asked as I let us into my apartment. I flipped on the light switch in the entry hall.
“I’ve secretly always played. It’s been a tool I’ve used to calm myself. I’m no Lizzo, but I got some mad skills.”
“Look at that. I’m still learning new and interesting secrets about my best friend.”
