CHAPTERONE
ALMOST BROADWAY
David Gardener-Reese sat down on the bed, lifted both hands to his face, and moaned, “Oh my god,you’re going to drive me nuts!” He dropped his hands and forced himself to inhale deeply and then exhale. “Nate,” he said finally. “Would you please calm down?”
“David, I can’t find it!” his husband cried. “Oh god, Davy, where did I put it?”
As David watched, Nate threw open a closet door. He began to rifle through the items on shelves and floor, hurling objects over his shoulder and into the bedroom in a disorganized frenzy—at one point narrowly missing David’s head. “I don’t think it’s in there,” David commented, then rose and moved to the other side of the bed, removing himself from Nate’s line of fire. “Where would you have put it if you were going to stash it someplace safe?”
“I don’t know!” Nate cried from deep within the closet, his voice muffled.
“Nate,” David said finally, “stop this! Come out here.” He rose and walked to the closet, then reached in and grabbed his husband’s arm. “Come and sit down. You won’t find anything while you’re throwing a hissy fit.” He dragged Nate out of the closet and deposited him onto the bed. “Now, calm down and think! One: where were you when you last remember seeing it? And two: can’t you print another copy? Jesus, Nate! You’re about to have a play go into production in New York City! You have to stop being so scatterbrained about this!”
Nate gave a fake whimper. He fell backward onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “Icouldprint another copy, David, butthiscopy had all the notes I scrawled in the margins after I talked with Ursula Rugby.”
“Phone call!” David muttered, then stalked away. After another moment, Nate heard him yell: “It’s right here on the end table. Right where you left it after you spoke to her, doofus!”
“Oh, thank god,” Nate cried, dashing to David’s side. “Oh, Davy, thank you! You found it.” Nate clasped the manuscript to his heart and passionately kissed his husband. “You’re my hero,” Nate told him, then kissed him again. “I’m going to my office to review these notes.” He peeked up at David, his expression sheepish. “Can you manage dinner?”
“Don’t I always?” David asked, then waved Nate toward the stairs. “The roast is almost done, and Colin and Josh won’t mind waiting even if it’s not.” He waved Nate toward the stairs. “Go on up. I’ll take care of it.”
“Holler when they get here!” Nate said over his shoulder as he bolted up the steps.
“Right,” David muttered, then shook his head and moved into the kitchen. He grabbed all the plates and silverware he’d need for dinner and carried everything into the dining room. He was setting the table when he heard the front door open, and a familiar voice called out: “It’s just us! Where are you?”
“I’m in here, Josh,” David called.
Colin strode into the dining room behind Joshua and reached over his husband’s shoulder to hand David a six-pack of Murphey’s Irish Stout. “Something smells good,” he observed, then looked around. “Where’s the rabble-rouser?”
“Upstairs going over margin notes,” David said, then nodded at Colin and patted the six-pack. “Thanks. I needed this!”
Colin laughed and wrapped both arms around Joshua’s neck from behind, propping his chin against his husband’s shoulder. “Is he freaking out?”
“More or less,” David replied, then tilted his head toward the kitchen. “Come help me. We’ll bring the food in, then I’ll call him down.”
“I can’t blame him for being excited,” Joshua said, trailing David into the kitchen. “I mean… it’sBroadway!”
“Well, it’salmostBroadway,” Colin corrected. “Off Broadway is different.” He glanced at David. “Isn’t it?”
David shrugged and handed Colin a platter filled with roast beef slices and a heaping pile of potatoes. “Here. Carry this in, Irish. Josh, would you bring the carrots?”
“Will do,” Joshua replied.
“The difference between Broadway and off Broadway has more to do with the number of seats in the theater than anything else,” David told them as they set the food on the table. “I could be wrong, but I think to be a Broadway play, it has to be in a theater over five hundred seats.” He glanced around, then moved toward the kitchen again. “I’ll get the salad.”
“That sounds right,” Colin said. “At least from my limited knowledge.”
“Were you onBroadway?” Joshua asked him in some surprise.
“Me? No!” Colin said, laughing. “I was in plays—musicals mostly—when I was in college.”
“With your gorgeous voice, I’m not surprised. I bet you were wonderful. And I bet you loved it.”
Colin shot Joshua a comical look. “You’re biased!” he accused, then sat in a nearby chair. “You know what a show-off I am, and Iwasthe star of the show, so naturally, I enjoyed the living hell out of it. But musicals involve a lot of rehearsals, not to mention all the hours required for dance choreography. I didn’t have the time to give to it.”
David reentered the dining room and then set the salad on the table. “I’ll go get him.”
“You don’t seem happy about it,” Colin pointed out, unable to hold back a snicker.
