Chapter 23
Derek plopped in the seat next to Th ? o so everyone could give Zoe their full attention.
“You’re doing great,” Th ? o said as she patted his arm. “Katie Mai is glowing today, don’t you think?”
“Hmmm,” he replied without taking his eyes off Zoe.
She’d given him a funny look when he attempted to introduce her the first time. He couldn’t tell if it was because he’d caught
her off guard. Or she was embarrassed about their kiss last night.
He’d caught her entrance into the atrium earlier, but he hadn’t been able to break free from Greg’s introductions to talk
to her. He wasn’t entirely confident that she even wanted to talk to him. But she’d cracked the dam he’d built to hide his
love for her. They’d talk tonight as friends and not collaborators on a musical.
“Thank you, Derek.” Zoe nodded at him as she stood up. TJ followed suit behind her. “This is TJ, my assistant. Both of us
are thrilled to work with you all.”
TJ curtseyed and made eyes at Danny Kim, who winked in response. Derek was not surprised by the interchange.
“Oh boy, I see trouble,” Th ? o whispered, “but not the bad kind.”
Those two would make a great match. Flings among the cast and crew weren’t uncommon but they could cause unnecessary tension or drama that could hinder the chemistry of the production. Even worse, these relationships could become HR nightmares if there was a whiff of a power imbalance.
“Derek convinced me to come out of retirement by dangling this show in front of me. Like Katie Mai”—Zoe stopped to acknowledge
the actress—“and for many of us here, this is an opportunity of a lifetime.”
She continued to explain her vision as TJ held up the sketches for the two sisters and the Emperor’s costumes. Both Derek
and Th ? o had agreed with her suggestion to keep the Emperor nameless because the crux of the musical was about the sisters’ relationship
with each other.
“So while T ? m’s dress is fluid and soft, you see hints of her toughness here”—Zoe pointed to the leather cuffs with metal rivets—“and
in the traditional headpiece she wears when she marries the Emperor. We’re giving it a Lizzo-meets-punk vibe by using lace,
leather, and metal spikes.”
“Derek, these are fucking gorgeous,” Th ? o said quietly. “She’s making me wish I had a costume.”
“I told you she was talented.” He grinned.
Even though he’d seen her sketches evolve from the time he almost ruined her sketchbook at the Wharf to the final renderings,
he was still mesmerized by her designs. A quick glance proved he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Everyone—the actors,
creative team, the board—they were hanging on her every word.
From the very first day he’d met Zoe, she’d exuded some sort of magic around her. Though she didn’t speak often or loudly,
she had a way of commanding attention whenever she spoke. As if they knew she was destined for greatness.
Their classmates had flocked to her, hoping that some of her glow would rub off on them. Zoe preferred a smaller circle of friends, unlike Derek, who thrived in large groups. Everyone, especially the actors, was on the edge of their seats as she explained her vision behind each character’s costumes.
Everyone except for one person. Greg.
Derek sighed. For once, his mentor was in the minority. Even the producers were captivated by Zoe.
“Designing costumes is a collaborative process, so I’m looking forward to meeting with the cast one-on-one to discuss your
interpretation of the characters,” Zoe said in closing. “Heather will schedule those for us. Thank you, everyone.”
Applause echoed throughout the high glass ceiling of the atrium.
Derek fought the impulse to run over and hug Zoe and congratulate her on her presentation. But that wouldn’t be professional,
not with everyone’s eyes on them. He gave her a thumbs-up before introducing the next person on his creative team.
“That was the best meet and greet ever,” said Th ? o. She lightly punched Derek in the arm. “It’s really happening.”
“Our musical is coming to life,” he agreed. “Even if it still feels surreal.”
“Come on, look at all the talented people you’ve gathered here. We’re little orphans you’ve collected to create your own gang
of misfits.”
She gestured to the atrium, which was emptying as people shuffled back to their offices or to their cars. The production team
was helping the house manager clean up the café area.
“Are you comparing me to Fagin? That must make you Oliver Twist,” he teased.
“Please, sir, may I have some more,” Th ? o said in her best poor British orphan accent.
“Now, that’s why you’re a composer and not an actor.” Derek grimaced, shaking his head at her.
“Alert, Greg is headed our way,” Th ? o whispered as her eyes darted to the other side of the atrium. “He looks like his Grape-Nuts got soggy.”
“Hush,” Derek said but he couldn’t help but smirk.
“You’re on your own. I’m going back to the rehearsal room to fix the duet between the sisters.”
Before he could beg her to stay and be a buffer, Th ? o ran off.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he called after her loudly, so Greg could hear him. Hopefully he could use that as an excuse
to cut their conversation short.
“Derek,” Greg called out as he walked toward Derek. “Have time for a quick chat?”
“Of course.” Did he really have a choice? He might as well get this conversation over with or Greg would hunt him down later.
“We had a great turnout for the meet and greet. I’d say seventy-five percent of the staff and most of the board.” Greg clapped
Derek on the back in congratulation.
“I’m glad they’re excited about this production.” Derek breathed a sigh in relief.
“They should be. If we head to New York, we’ll make some big bucks and an even bigger name for Prestige.”
“I’d like to think they’re interested because we’re making new and exciting art.” Derek envied how comfortable and confident
the artistic director was about everything he did, no matter how mediocre.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Greg looked around before pulling Derek to a semi-secluded area.
“What’s going on, Greg? Th ? o needs me before the actors come back from doing paperwork with HR.”
“I know Katie Mai is a good friend of yours, but have you considered switching the two actresses playing the sisters?” Greg’s
tone was less questioning but more of a firm suggestion.
“What’s wrong with Katie Mai?” Derek stepped back to put some distance between them. “You haven’t even heard her in rehearsal yet.”
“I’m not sure she’s the right look for the lead. Yvonne Le would be more relatable for our audiences.”
“What do you mean by that?” He knew exactly what Greg was insinuating, but he wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily.
Derek gritted his teeth. He’d cast Yvonne as the younger stepsister, not because she was smaller and thinner than Katie Mai,
but because he loved her audition. Yvonne had interpreted Cám as kind yet mischievous. She was the perfect foil for Katie
Mai, who portrayed T ? m as protective yet optimistic.
“I mean princesses are usually petite and delicate. I think we can both agree that while Katie Mai is tall enough, she doesn’t
exude delicate.”
“She is very—” Derek cut himself off. He didn’t have to explain his artistic decisions. “Greg, my casting choices are final
and the contracts have been signed. Katie Mai Vu is the best person to play T ? m.”
Realizing that Derek wouldn’t entertain his suggestion, the man pressed his lips together.
“Right. You’re the boss,” Greg said after a beat.
“You remind me of that all the time, but you don’t like any of my decisions.” Derek straightened his spine and said firmly,
“You said you’d trust me.”
“I know you want to make a name for yourself by doing never-done-before things. My suggestions are backed up by thirty years
of experience.” Greg crossed his arms.
“I appreciate your concern.” Derek kept his face expressionless.
While he didn’t care for the artistic director’s advice, he didn’t want to alienate him either. Derek couldn’t remember his mentor being so pushy. But maybe he’d never noticed because this was the first time Derek was in complete control over a production instead of working as Greg’s assistant.
It was time to put more distance between the two of them. Derek needed to make a name for himself without Greg’s mentorship.
He wasn’t sure if their values still aligned.
“I’m only telling you this because it’ll be easier to move people around at the beginning,” Greg said. “You’re like a son
to me. I only want you to succeed, Derek.”
“I know you do.”
“Look, I haven’t told anyone, but”—Greg leaned in closer to Derek—“I plan on retiring in five or six years. And I want to
recommend you as my successor.”
“Seriously?” Derek blinked.
A series of scenes played through his head. A position like this would allow him to commission work by more playwrights of
color. He’d have a steady job—with benefits—instead of relying on getting enough freelance work to qualify for health insurance
through the union. Not only that, but with the lower cost of living here, he could definitely afford to take care of his mother.
Derek stopped his runaway thoughts. Greg had said five years. A lot could happen between now and then.
“Why do you think they’d hire me to run the biggest theater in DC?” he pressed. Greg had dangled carrots in the past but they
often fell through for one reason or another outside his mentor’s control. At least that’s what the man told him.
“I’ve taught you everything I know, haven’t I? Besides, the board loves me and will hire anyone I tell them to,” Greg said
with more confidence than Derek had ever heard.
Derek nodded cautiously.
“Don’t you want them to love you?”
“I want them to love the show,” Derek admitted truthfully. “This musical is bigger than me. It’s time for Asian Americans to have something besides Miss Saigon to aim for.”
“You’re excited about this production, but don’t forget that no one knows who you are yet. I can help you and your career
explode.”
Now Greg was repeating himself. Derek needed to extract himself before the man started recalling the “back in my day” stories.
“Look at the time,” Derek said as he showed the man his phone. “I need to help Th ? o prep for our table read and sing through.”
Derek took a step around the man, who had walked him back against a wall. Greg put a hand out to stop him.
“I’m serious, Derek. In five years this could all be yours if you learn how to play the game.”
“I’ll think about it,” Derek said in a tone that indicated their conversation was finished. This time Greg let him leave the
alcove.
Whatever relief he’d had at the beginning of that conversation was now replaced with anxious hope. He didn’t like who he became
around Greg, but the man had gotten him this far. What’s another five years if he could finally snag a dream job that would
give him everything he wanted? Professionally at least.
Thankfully, Greg had no hand in Derek’s relationship with Zoe.