Chapter 4 Miles
MILES
Not good.
This is not good.
This day is going to be terrible for me.
And for Macy too.
There’s no chance Aria is going to cast my daughter after the way I treated her last week—which is probably a good thing, because if Macy does get a part in this, I’ll have to see Aria more. Not that I can’t handle being around her. I am a grown man who can resist temptation.
But I’m strangely happy for Aria. She adapted this musical.
Wrote the book and the lyrics. And she’s directing it.
That’s impressive. I’m sure she isn’t being paid nearly enough to make a living, but it’s a start.
I could have negotiated a better deal for her—not that lawyers get involved in tiny contracts like this, and not that I’m her lawyer.
But this is a decent theatre in the Santa Monica community.
A lot of people turn out for the shows. I know this because Yelp told me so.
Good for her.
But also, fuck my life.
“Why are you so dressed up?”
I brake at a stoplight and look down at what I’m wearing. “This isn’t dressed up. I’m not wearing a suit.” I just happen to look really good today. That’s not my fault.
“You look fancy. And you smell like you’re going to a party for grownups.”
Might have used a little too much cologne. She’s not wrong. But that has nothing to do with Aria.
I glance over at Macy before the light changes. God, she looks so tense. I need to get her to loosen up. If anyone can get this girl to loosen up, it’s me. Because I’m fucking hilarious. “Hey, honey?”
She must be running lines in her head, because her lips are moving a little bit and it takes her a few seconds before she acknowledges me. “What?”
“What do you call it when a cow farts?”
“Hunh? Why are you talking about that?”
“Dairy air. Get it?”
“No! I don’t get it because I don’t do that!”
“You don’t have to do it to get the joke, honey. It was a joke.”
“But it’s not funny! Why do boys always have to talk about farts?! Now all I can think about is farts and dairy!”
“Calm down.”
“Now I’m upset, and I’m not supposed to use my voice this much before I audition!”
“Okay, just calm down. Breathe, honey. Just breathe.”
She tries to take some deep breaths, but even I can tell she doesn’t breathe right.
“Why don’t you tell me about Alice’s character.”
“But you know about her. You read the book to me so many times.”
“Well, tell me what you like about her.”
“She gets to go on adventures.”
“Yeah.”
“And she’s brave.”
“She is, isn’t she? So are you.”
“I guess.”
“You are.”
“Yeah. I am.”
Fuck it, I’m just going to say it. “You know…they use microphones for theatre productions…”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, when they do the live shows, there are microphones hidden above the stage or around the stage. Or for the big productions, like on Broadway, they have tiny little microphones that are hidden above the performers’ foreheads. In their hair or inside their costumes.”
“So?”
“Sooooo…they have those microphones so the performers don’t have to sing too loud. You know what I mean?”
She stares blankly ahead, up Pico Boulevard. We’re a couple of blocks away from the theatre, and she’s scanning for parking spaces.
“So maybe you don’t have to sing quite so loud…”
She blinks. “But that’s how you sing in a musical.”
“I mean, I’m just saying you could try singing without shouting so much.”
She points up ahead. “There! There’s a spot on the road just past the theatre!”
“I see it, I see it. So, what do you think? You want to try singing a little less…loudly today?”
“No.”
“Fair enough.”
The website said it’s a two-hundred-seat theatre.
There are around twenty kids here in the lobby, but it’s not the usual kind of kid energy.
It’s not like a birthday party. These are theatre nerds.
They’re more focused than regular kids, but the energy is intense.
Most of the parents are even more nervous than the kids are.
I’m willing to bet that if somebody yelled Fire!
, at least ninety percent of the parents in here would ask if their kid would lose their audition spot if they leave the building. I’d be one of those parents.
The lady I signed in with was not Aria Cross.
No one in the lobby is Aria Cross.
But I just know she’s behind those doors, inside the theatre. She’s probably wearing more clothes than I’m used to seeing her in. Probably still looks hot, though.
Not that it matters.
I look around for Macy. I’ve got her backpack, which weighs around forty pounds. I don’t even want to know what’s in here. She probably brought her electric steamer and the severed head of the last director who didn’t cast her in the part she wanted.
When I spot her, my heart sinks. It’s worse than seeing Aria looking all pretty and unattainable.
There’s a boy Macy’s age who’s talking to her, and I can tell from the body language that he’s making fun of her.
She’s just standing there listening to him, but her defiant little hands are on her hips.
Her lower lip is pushed out the tiniest bit, but she’s trying so hard not to cry.
I’m over there in five long strides. “Excuse me, can I talk to you,” I mutter to the boy, maneuvering him by the shoulders, away from my little girl.
“What?” he snaps. Little turd. He looks around the lobby, probably for his guardian. I follow his gaze out the window, where a scrawny man talks on his cell phone on the sidewalk. I could take that guy, easy. Not that I’m planning to. But I could.
Oh, it is not this kid’s lucky day. I bring him over to a corner, away from anyone else. “Listen to me, kid.”
The boy rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks away.
I know that move. I invented that move when I was five years old and my pops had to give me three good talkin’-tos before I learned how to turn my intolerable insolence into Brodie family approved sarcasm.
But Pops Brodie doesn’t have a daughter to protect.
This little shit’s about to get schooled hard.
I keep my voice low and steady like the cowboy foreman of the biggest ranch in Montana. Fuck that scrawny lawyer shit—I’m the guy they send when there’s a problem. “Kid. I want you to look me in the eyes so I know you’re listening. Right now.”
He keeps that chin lifted and defiant as he turns his head toward me, but I see that lower lip quivering.
I bend forward so I can get right up in his face. “You want to be an actor, don’t you?”
“Yeah. So?”
“What’s your name?”
“Logan.”
“Of course it is. Logan what?”
“Saint.”
Such a bullshit name. “Now you listen to me, Logan Saint. I can’t tell if you’re being mean to my daughter because deep down you really like her, or if you’re just a little turd who picks on everyone because he doesn’t have anything better to offer the world.
And I don’t care either way. But if you like her—just know that you aren’t anywhere near good enough for her.
And if you’re mean to her again—if I even find out you let someone else treat her disrespectfully—I’m gonna take you to the train station. ”
He looks up at me, confused.
Guess he doesn’t watch Yellowstone.
“Here’s what that means. It means I will make it my mission to ensure that every single agent, manager, and lawyer in Hollywood and New York blacklists you. Do you know what it means to be blacklisted in Hollywood and New York, Logan?”
“No.”
“It means you’ll be doing dinner theatre in Des Moines for the rest of your life—if you’re lucky. You know what dinner theatre is, Logan?”
“Yeah.”
“You gonna be mean to Macy again?”
“No.”
“No—what?”
“No, sir.”
“That’s right. You’re going to treat Macy with respect, and you’re going to go apologize to her right now.”
“Okay.”
“Let me see you do it, Logan.”
“I said okay,” the little turd snaps back.
I lean in again and give him the arched eyebrow.
“I’m going, I’m going,” he mutters. I watch him trudge over to Macy, who has been watching, gleefully, from twenty feet away.
Ever the drama queen, as soon as she realizes Logan’s approaching to apologize, her lower lip curls out again and her eyes well with tears.
The kid mumbles something to her, but his head is lowered in as humble a manner as I’m sure he’s capable of.
She nods, accepting his apology. Logan reaches out to rest his hand on her shoulder.
Oh, hell no.
“That’s enough, Logan,” I tell him, striding over again.
“We’re good.” I remove his hand from my daughter’s shoulder and wedge myself between them.
Macy doesn’t look upset or nervous anymore.
I barely even recognize this expression on her face right now.
Her eyes are wide and shiny. There’s no tension in her face.
She looks happy.
I did that.
Fuck yeah, me.
“Nice to see you again, Macy” comes a sultry voice from a few feet behind me.
All of a sudden, Macy looks tense again. “Hi, Miss Cross.”
Yeah. Fuck me.
I turn slowly and find Aria Cross grinning at me.
Resting a big three-ring binder against one hip, she taps a pen against her thigh.
She’s wearing tight jeans, a blouse, her hair’s up in a messy bun, and there’s nothing sexy about the sandals she’s wearing, but her feet still look hot in them. How am I turned on by her ankles?!
“Nice to see you too, Mr. Brodie.”
The way she says that, I do feel seen.
Really seen. By Miss Cross. She’s examining me the way I used to get examined at go-sees when I was a model.
“Miss Cross…”
We’re surrounded by people, but there is an undeniable something between us here.
I haven’t felt like this with a woman while my daughter’s around since Clara.
“Destiny awaits,” she says, grinning.
Yeah, it does, you naughty little…
Wait. She’s not my destiny. She’s talking about Macy’s destiny.
She nods toward the backpack I’m holding. The one with Anna and Elsa from Frozen 2 that says Destiny Awaits.
“Oh.”
“My stage manager has food poisoning, so… I’m just letting you know that you’re up next. Parents are welcome to sit in the back rows, as long as they remain quiet.” Cheeky little smirk. “You ready, Macy?”
Macy doesn’t answer her. She just frowns at me and says through gritted teeth, so she doesn’t strain her vocal cords yelling, “Daddy! You forgot to ask me if I have to use the little girls’ room before we go in there! Mommy always remembers to ask!”
“Do you have to go?”
Macy looks around to make sure nobody heard me ask her that because she doesn’t want anyone to know that she ever has to go. “No! But you’re still supposed to ask.”
“Okay, well. You ready?”
Macy closes her eyes and nods. “My destiny awaits,” she says solemnly.