Chapter 20
Chapter
Kissing Adam last night was either the best decision I’ve ever made or the worst. In true gentlemanly fashion, Adam walked me to my room and kissed my forehead before heading to his room.
All night I thought about our magically quintessential New York day, about the softness of Adam’s lips, the firm grip of his hands around my waist, and the fact that his dance card is not in fact full.
All factors that could completely change what happens at the end of the month.
Old June, and by that I mean yesterday’s June, would panic and avoid the situation. Today’s June doesn’t care, and I decide to not let the unknown ruin the cloud I’mon.
When I head downstairs, I’m greeted with a large white paper bag sitting upright in the middle of the kitchen island. There’s a handwritten note propped up besideit.
Thought you’d be hungry. Cream cheese in the fridge.
I hold on to the scrap paper with a stupid smile on my face as if it’s a goddamn valentine.
Inside the paper bag is an assortment of New York bagels, still warm.
The smell of sesame and yeast fills my senses as I look at a display of blistered beauties with a caramelized sheen.
If anyone is still questioning it, the bagels in New York are indeed different from those anywhere else.
I choose an everything bagel, slather scallion cream cheese on top, and curl up on the couch.
June
Okay, update.
I text Chloe and then see three dots in our chat less than fifteen seconds after.
Chloe
***
June
I was wrong and Adam doesn’t have a girlfriend.
Chloe
So who was all wet waiting for him…
June
Long story, it was someone who works with him. He’s single.
Chloe
I see…
June
DON’T start!
Chloe
Hahaha I didn’t say anything!!
June
I’ll tell you more next week. Loveu
Chloe
Love YOU xx
I open up my inbox and see one unread email from Theo that says my audition is tomorrow at 11:45 a.m. at a studio on Forty-second.
They’ll want me to sing a couple of songs from Les Mis, but I should prepare an additional ballad just in case.
I’ve learned through experience that having a slot before lunch is always a good thing, because it gives producers something to think about while they eat.
She also attached an invite for a Manhattan for Theater Gala tomorrow night.
I frown and scroll to her name on my phone. On the first ring, she answers.
“Hey, June!”
“That was quick.” I let out a breathless laugh.
“I was already on my phone,” she says.
“Of course,” I say. “So, I got all the details for the audition. Anything else I need?”
“Nope, you’re all set. Break a leg,” she says comically. “Also, I’m flying in tomorrow afternoon. I’ll meet you at the gala.”
“I saw the attachment,” I say. “I didn’t know it was at the Plaza…”
“Yeah, wear something nice.”
“I don’t have anything nice,” I say.
“ Buy something nice. You’ll be doing the step and repeat.”
Step and repeats aren’t unfamiliar to me. They’re press walls that are really meant for bigger names in attendance, but sometimes Theo pulls off getting me on the list. Knowing that I’m intended to walk the carpet means this is not an event I can back outof.
“Okay, I’ll find something,” I say. “What time do you land tomorrow?”
“Like two-thirtyish. I have an afternoon meeting, but I’ll see you there. Liz and Henry are also going.”
It’s no surprise that two of my former Rent costars will be in attendance. They started a podcast called Showmance a few years ago and have been attending every theater event since.
“Oh cool,” I say. “It’ll be nice to see them again.”
“Totally. Okay, I need to run but good luck. I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Great. I throw my head back. What every woman loves—finding the perfect outfit under pressure.
It’s almost six when I come back from a day of shopping.
Finding a dress for a gala is not as easy, or as fun, as one would think.
Thankfully, I found something that I absolutely love and didn’t break the bank.
Since Adam won’t be home for a couple of hours, I decide to do something I never could back in Los Angeles—take a bubble bath.
In the upstairs bathroom, there’s an ivory clawfoot tub with gold feet that wouldn’t even fit in my tiny bathroom in LA.
It’s one of the post-renovation additions, and while I’ve been eyeing it, I never felt comfortable enough to use it.
On the windowsill, there’s a display of various essential oils and bath salts, something that previous Airbnb users never touched, based on the still-pristine packaging.
I draw the bath, light a few candles, and put an acoustic playlist on my phone. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it right.
The water is warm, and I breathe in a delicate, sweet smell as I tie my hair over my head.
Once I sink into the tub, the heated water hugs every inch of my skin and I lie back on the rim, closing my eyes.
My thoughts travel to the events of last night.
What the fuck even happened? One minute it’s too painful to look at Adam Harper, and the next I want him to rip my clothes off with his teeth.
I descend into the bubbles and can practically feel his hands gripped around my waist and hear his grunts if I focus hard enough.
The feeling of his chest under my hands is a lucid memory, as are his smell of cedar and the sensation of his breath against my neck.
No other person has ever been able to conjure this desire within me, the aching in my esophagus, the fear of what will happen if I never get to touch him again.
There’s a weight I’ve been carrying for years that slowly starts to pour out of me, oozing like lava until I feel free.
I want Adam Harper. I want him, all of him, and maybe I don’t have to be afraid of that anymore.
We used to be two halves of a whole. There was no June without Adam.
No Adam without June. I want to get back to that.
“June?” Adam calls from downstairs, interrupting my thoughts. I cough and quickly adjust the bubbles around myself to make sure that nothing is showing.
“In here!” I call back. Moments later, there’s a knock on the door and he carefully opensit.
“Oh,” he says, caught off guard by the sight, I’m sure. “Wow.”
“Hey.” I sink a little deeper into the water. “How was work?”
“It was…” he says, not at all trying to hide his stare. “Good,” he says, finally making eye contact with me. “How was your day?”
“Good,” I say, copying him. “I have my audition with Dan tomorrow…and apparently a gala at night?”
He raises his eyebrows. “Manhattan for Theater?”
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“I was invited too,” he says. It had slipped my mind that Alden is a contributor to New York’s theater initiatives, and I’m pleasantly surprised when I remember.
“Well, maybe I’ll see you there.” I smile.
He puts his hands in his pockets and leans against the doorframe. “It’s a date.” The words cause my cheeks to tinge pink, and it doesn’t help that the only thing covering my entirely naked body is a thin layer of bubbles. “Did you have dinner?” he asks.
“Not yet,” I say, shaking my head, but dinner is the last thing on my mind. Adam taking off his clothes and climbing on top of me, that’s on my mind.
“I’ll make something,” he says.
“Do you need any help?” I ask.
“No, you relax. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.” He winks and then walks away.
I’m left with a stupid, childish grin on my face. I close my eyes, submerging myself into the bath.
My last audition was a self-tape for a limited thriller series for streaming. I filmed a monologue in my living room that consisted of crying and screaming. And if you’re wondering, I did not get the part.
I’m now headed to a very different audition on Forty-second and there’s an energy pulsing through the chilly morning air that brings me back to my early days in theater.
There’s something about the adrenaline of walking into a room and turning the eight hundred square feet of space into your stage, picturing endless rows of people watching you, and giving them a performance you can’t redo.
There’s no cut or let’s try that again. Whatever you give them in that moment is what they’re getting.
It’s terrifying but it makes you feel alive.
The building has a narrow hallway surrounded by brick—atiny detail I forgot was specific to the East Coast. Everything from getting off the elevator and waiting to be brought inside the audition room is a blur.
It isn’t until I’m standing in front of Dan and four unfamiliar faces that I regain some sort of awareness.
“June,” Dan says like he’s excited for me to be there, and I find it comforting. “Nice to see you.”
I smile. “Nice to see you too.” I’m standing in the middle of a bright room with nothing but a piano and a fold-up table with three people sitting behind it.
The space is large, with high ceilings that show industrial piping overhead.
Rehearsals will probably take place here. “And so nice to meet everyone.”
“June, this is Laura, our music director.” Dan starts gesturing to the other people in the room.
“John and Amy, our producers, and Holly, our choreographer.” Everyone gives me a friendly wave and a hello.
This is the team that’s bringing one of the decade’s most celebrated musicals back to Broadway… and they want to listen to me.
“Okay.” Dan claps. “So, let’s just dive into it.
We’re all familiar with your background, but of course it’s been a few years since you’ve been on stage.
We really just want to hear how your voice has developed.
Whenever you’re ready, we’d love to hear you start with ‘On My Own,’ then we can do ‘I Dreamed a Dream.’ Sound good? ”
“Right, of course.” I walk over to the side of the room where Laura is sitting behind the piano. I take a deep breath and give Laura a cue that I’m about to start.
The first chords are being drawn, with her foot lightly grazing the pedal. The notes follow in a slow but free pace and my voice accompanies the melody.
The lyrics flow out of me, filling the room with the sound of one of Les Misérables ’ most popular songs. I close my eyes and feel each and every word, allowing myself to give in to every emotion.
I’m transported to that night in front of the Imperial Theatre, a memory that sits on the walls of Alden.
It was the night I found out I’d landed my first lead role—Mimi in the Broadway revival of Rent.
Just after midnight, Adam and I took a walk to the theater to celebrate.
He was in a very brief photography phase, after being gifted a film camera.
We both saw the marquee that read Rent and I became fixated with emotion, unable to look away.
After what felt like minutes, he came up behind me and said you did it.
There was an usher waiting by the door, a man in his late sixties who told us that he’d been working there for over forty years.
Adam told him that he was looking at the new Mimi and before I knew it, the man said call me Mort and let us enter.
Once we were inside the theater and saw the rows and rows of velvet chairs and the stage, one bigger than I’ve ever performed on, Adam told me to go up there.
I can’t do that… I said, knowing the idea was ridiculous.
He asked Mort for permission, and he gave us his blessing.
I got up on stage and Adam sat smack-dab in the middle of the theater and I sang.
I sang to nobody but him, but sang as if the world was watching me.
I sang “On My Own,” and have never performed that song since.
Now I belt out as loud as I can, and I hear the power of Laura on the piano, the room vibrating.
I didn’t realize I wasn’t, but I’m alive again.