Chapter Forty Second Chance
After weeks of rain, the sun appeared for our company’s outdoor concert on campus.
There were three music acts before us, then a stand-up comic afterward.
There was a good vibe in the air. I was tuned-in like I hadn’t been for a long time.
We had one of our best performances. Nice turnout too, but it was the kind of day where it’s fine if you’re standing around but sweltering if you’re really moving, and I was dripping by the end of our number, so once we were off the stage, I made a beeline for the dressing room.
Royce and I usually fought for the first shower, but he stopped on the way to talk to a fan, so I beat him there.
It wasn’t like I hogged the shower. I knew there were six of us, but I’d barely rinsed the sweat off when someone banged on the bathroom door.
“Okay, okay,” I said.
I wrapped a towel around myself and came out.
“Guy wants to talk to you,” said Royce, as he shouldered past me into the bathroom.
“Guy” was a man wearing a vest that read “Security.”
Shit, what have I done?
“Eddie McCreevy wants to speak with you,” he said.
I blanked for a second, like he’d told me there was an elephant outside, and did I want to ride it.
“Do you want to see him or not?” said the security guy.
My brain finally caught up to what he’d said.
“Sure, I’ll see him,” I said.
I realized I was standing there wearing a towel, with my hair dripping.
As soon as the security guy left, I dropped the towel and rushed to put clothes on.
I had time to pull my warm-up jacket and pants on, but I was naked underneath.
My hair was still wet, but I didn’t have time to deal with it because the next second, the officer was knocking on the door, and I opened it.
And there he was, standing in the hallway.
“Eddie,” I said. That was as articulate as I could manage.
It was really him. As seen on TV. As in, he was really blond, and his body looked different in a way I couldn’t put my finger on.
“I saw your show,” he said. “You were great.”
I knew something had felt different while I was performing. I hadn’t seen him in the crowd, but I must have sensed him.
“Yeah,” I said. “Hey, peeps!” The company were all staring at me. Guess I’d made a spectacle of myself getting dressed. “This is Eddie. Eddie, this is Annie, Stasia, Donie, and Craig.” I pointed to each of them.
“Great show,” he said. He looked cool and relaxed.
Then, Royce came out of the bathroom and did a double-take. “Hey, you’re Fin from The Heart You’re Dealt.”
I felt awkward then, like I’d lied to my company by not telling them Eddie’s last name.
“Yeah,” said Eddie.
“I love that show,” said Royce.
“Thanks.”
“How do you guys know each other?” said Stasia.
“Eddie’s my ex,” I said.
“You’re White Craig’s Eddie?” said Stasia. “You’re the guy?”
I was never gonna hear the end of this now.
“Sure,” said Eddie. “I’m the guy.” He looked at me like we were in on a secret joke. “Want to grab dinner?”
“Sure. We could.”
“Give me a sec?” He took out his phone and sent a text, probably to his boyfriend.
I was supposed to go to Bex’s housewarming party after the show. I’d planned to spend the night too. I found my phone and texted him, Can’t make it tonight. Really sorry. C.
When I looked up, he’d turned off his phone and put it away.
“There’s a nice place upstairs,” I said, picking up my backpack. “I eat there a lot after work.” I’d gotten into the habit of eating dinner on campus, because it was easier staying downtown after work when I had rehearsals to go to in the evenings.
“I’m less likely to get recognized if we go off campus,” he said. “It’s more private.”
Oh. Yeah. ’Cause he’s famous now.
“Sure,” I said.
He put on sunglasses and a baseball cap and waved goodbye to the company.
“Bye, Eddie,” they all said.
“See you guys later,” I said.
They weren’t as polite to me. I got whistled at and catcalled.
“Be good, White Craig,” said Stasia.
“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”
“Watch out for paparazzi!” said Royce.
I shut the door behind us. Then I followed Eddie.
He was walking smoothly, without a hitch in his step.
The way he carried himself was different.
He didn’t used to be in the best shape, but he had energy now.
He bounced up the stairs from the basement.
I would have too, but I’d just finished a long show on a hot day, and I was tired.
He waited for me at the top of the stairs.
I still loved him. I’d always known that, at the back of everything I did, but now it was right in front of me.
We didn’t say much as we were walking. He seemed distracted. A student stopped him as we were leaving campus, asked for his autograph and a selfie. He took it in stride, like it happened to him often.
Once we were off campus, he ditched his hat and sunglasses, and his limp came back, and I realized what he’d been doing earlier had been an act, which was a relief.
He took me to a discreet little Italian place that barely looked like a restaurant from the outside, and I wondered if this was somewhere husbands took their mistresses so they wouldn’t get caught.
The staff knew him, and we were seated immediately. After we ordered our drinks, and the server left, he said, “You were great at tapping when I met you, but you’re even better now.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Dancing with the company had really pushed my limits as a tapper, had made me better than I’d ever thought I could be.
But I didn’t understand why he was complimenting me.
He seemed genuine, but I couldn’t believe he wasn’t still angry about Christmas.
If he was trying to teach me a lesson, I didn’t know why he was being so nice to me. There had to be a catch.
“How are you doing?” he said.
“Good? I won a scholarship to grad school. I start in September.” Which sounded like boasting, but here I was, looking at him in his super expensive clothes.
Yeah, he was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, but those weren’t his old ripped jeans, and it was a Calvin Klein T-shirt.
He was a famous actor now, and I felt small, the way I never had when we were together.
All that time I’d spent worrying about him, and here he was, better than okay. I should have been happy about that.
“You going to quit dancing when you start school?” he said.
“No. I’m gonna make it work.”
The server came back with our drinks, and I looked at the menu.
“The Classic pizza’s good,” he said. “It’s got everything you like. We could split one, if you want.”
Because we both liked the same toppings on our pizza.
“Sure.”
He ordered, and the server left. I waited for him to stick the knife in and twist. I deserved it. But he just looked at me. Not angry, only concerned.
“You let your hair grow,” I said. “And you bleached it.”
“Yeah. The show’s producers think it makes me look more innocent.”
“I read that feature on you in Entertainment Canada.”
“Oh, that,” he said.
“How fucking dare they?”
“It was publicity for the show.”
“That’s not the point. They called you ugly. How does that not bother you?” Why did it bother me that it didn’t bother him?
“Getting judged on my looks is part of my job,” he said. “I get paid to put up with it.”
“You shouldn’t have to. And you’re not ugly. You never were.”
The food arrived, and we didn’t speak while we helped ourselves to the pizza.
“I’m sorry the article hurt your feelings,” he said.
“It’s not my feelings I’m worried about. You shouldn’t have to put up with that.”
“I appreciate the thought, but it doesn’t bother me. Anyway, notoriety has its compensations.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
“Joel said it, and I agree with him. Joel’s my costar on the show.”
There it was. Sticking the knife in.
“I know who he is. He’s a dick to you on the show.”
“He’s an actor.”
“Now you’re gonna tell me he’s not really like that.”
“He’s nothing like that,” he said. “So, you watched the show?”
“I tried. I got to episode eight.” I looked at my plate. “I had to stop watching after that.”
“Yeah. That wasn’t much fun to shoot.” And he sounded like it got to him, like it wasn’t all acting.
“You get why I hate Joel, then?”
“You hate his character on the show.”
No, I hated Joel, because he had what I used to have, wished I still had, would have given anything to get back.
He reached across the table and touched my shoulder. Before I could pull back, I saw why—he was touching the little bisexual flag I’d sewn onto my warm-up jacket.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m out. Like, out out. I went to Pride last month.”
It was part of the reason why we’d split. Maybe I wanted him to know, even if it was too late to matter to us anymore. He didn’t say anything, though.
Usually, I was ravenous after a show because stage fright meant I couldn’t keep anything down beforehand, but I was too upset to eat much.
I looked at my plate. “The company’s my family now. They were all I had, along with Bexley and Ben, after you left. I was in a bad place. I had to go to hospital for a while.”
He didn’t say anything. I looked up to see him staring at me, looking upset.
“I’m not asking for your pity,” I said.
“I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t expecting that. He sounded sincere.
“You don’t owe me an apology,” I said.
“I do, though.”
For what? Rubbing my nose in his success? I had it coming after what I’d done to him. I didn’t want to talk anymore, so I pretended to be interested in the food.
When we were finished, the server came to take our plates, and he handed her his credit card.
“Eddie—”
“I’ve got it.”
“I can pay my own way,” I said. Yeah, I wasn’t rich, but I’d never asked him for money.
“I know,” he said. “But let me, this once.”
It wasn’t worth arguing over. We left the restaurant and stood outside. There was an awkward silence.
“Thanks for dinner,” I said. “I should...probably go.”
“Got someone waiting?” he said.
I was supposed to be at Bexley’s housewarming, but that wasn’t what he meant, so I said, “No.”
I figured he’d look smug, but he didn’t. He looked relieved. I guess because I couldn’t compete with him.