Chapter 29 Logan
LOGAN
The first night of the show is a mess.
The rowboat wheels get jammed, the blocking on the lodge’s lobby set is off, and two actors forget their lines.
One even drops a plate of fake fruit, plastic apples and pears rolling into the audience.
The fan we use to blow the scent of campfire out into the audience decides its last day of work was yesterday.
The audience has no idea any of it isn’t supposed to happen.
Good things happen, too, though. The dock’s legs stay put, and the sparklers work when they should. Nothing catches on fire.
Mr. Moon makes his appearance just before intermission. As the show’s leads sing from the rooftop, he’s lowered from the rafters. Moon problem, solved.
From the wings, I peek out to the audience and immediately spot a laughing Hazel, who’s hard to miss in her floral Hawaiian shirt.
She had no idea about Mr. Moon’s cameo. She points him out to Emma and Gloria, her two friends she brought with her.
Probably she’s telling them how I almost made her smash him to pieces.
The second half of the show isn’t any better, but by the time the curtain closes, there’s a buzzy energy going around in the front of house and backstage.
“Well, that was… not great,” I’m the first to say once the show has ended. It wasn’t even close.
“Yes, but our show is officially live,” Mrs. Walker says. “Roman would’ve loved every second of it.”
Richie pats my back. “You’re still here, Mr. Big Bucks? I would’ve quit yesterday.”
News ended up spreading across the city—and the theater. Truthfully, I consider myself lucky that this information didn’t change the way my coworkers treat me.
“Then who’d beat you next year in Fantasy Soccer?” I ask.
“After how badly you lost this year?” Richie scoffs. “Yeah, right.”
“We’ll see.”
Each team’s got a laundry list of what to improve, fix, and talk to the actors about, but we did it. We made it to opening night. Tomorrow, we get a chance to try again. We’ll just keep tweaking, and the next show will be a little bit better than tonight was. Same with the night after that.
Hazel meets us backstage, and I introduce her to Mrs. Walker.
“Apologies for my cat,” Mrs. Walker says. “I heard about the trouble he’s caused.”
I don’t know if she realizes she does it, but Hazel runs her fingers down the arm Toffee scratched. “No trouble at all,” Hazel says with a genuine smile. “Your cat might be one of the best things to happen to me.” Her eyes flick over to me. “I owe him.”
Mrs. Walker raises an eyebrow. “Careful. He just might take you up on that.”
Once we clean up and reset for the next day’s show, Hazel, Richie, Emma, Gloria, and a bunch of the cast and crew head out for a postshow dinner. Mrs. Walker declines our invite, claiming that it’s well past her bedtime and that Toffee won’t appreciate being left alone for so long.
After shows, we’d sometimes celebrate at Curtain Call Pizzeria, which is where we’re headed now. Or at least that’s where I thought we were going. The street to the diner is blocked off. Construction, maybe?
Hazel grabs my hand and pulls me forward. “Come on,” she says.
“Looks like it’s closed.”
She ignores the cones and signs. “Let’s just see.”
I follow her, and the group follows me. She leads me toward the pizzeria, which isn’t under construction.
Neither is the road in front of it. Right in the center of the street is a giant inflatable pool filled with plastic pit balls and oversize New York–themed stuffed toys.
A medium-size crane is positioned along the fringe of the pool.
“Is that a four-foot soft pretzel?” I ask.
“I was hoping you could win it for me this time,” Hazel says, her face lit up.
“Wait,” I mumble. Hazel’s bouncing on her toes, not fazed at all. “Did you do this?”
“All your hard work deserved to be celebrated.”
“Should we really be celebrating a man in the front row being bopped in the head with a plastic apple?” I ask.
Delighted laughter spills out of her. “At the very least, it deserves to be acknowledged.” She wraps her arms around my waist. “Congrats on your first show as head carpenter! I’m officially a big fan of musicals.”
I can’t get over what I’m seeing. “You. You spent money on”—I gesture to the human-size toy crane machine she’s essentially re-created in the streets of New York—“that? But these are specifically the types of things you don’t spend money on.”
“Sometimes exceptions need to be made,” she says. “Especially when the crane machine in the pizzeria is too unpredictable.”
“This had to be expensive,” I say. “I thought we were cooling it on the big gestures.”
“You were,” she clarifies. “I was due for one. And crane rentals are surprisingly not too bad. It was the shutting down of this block that wasn’t cheap, but Gloria knew a guy.”
I run my hand through my hair. “You saw what happened the last time I tried to play this game.”
She nods in recollection. “When the games are rigged, you have to make your own game.” That’s wise, but I’m still on the fence. Hazel must still be able to sense this because she adds, “You literally can’t lose this one.”
“I don’t know—”
“We’re not here to talk. We’re here to have fun,” she says, guiding me to the crane operator. “Now get in there!”
The group huddles around as I’m strapped up in a harness and lifted over the pool of toys and pit balls. I point where I want to go, the crane operator controlling my movements. I laugh every time the crane pushes and pulls me. I feel like a big kid dangling in the air like this.
I point down once I’m over the plush Hazel wants. I loop my cast through one of the loops. As the crane pulls me up, I make too much of a show about it, and the pretzel slips off my arm.
“Come on now!” I shout. Down below, Hazel bursts out laughing.
Just before the crane operator can move me back to the start, I kick my leg out and flip the pretzel up in the air, catching it between my calves. To cover my bases, I wrap my legs and arms around the toy.
“I’m not taking any more chances!” I call out.
Hazel cheers me on from the edge of the pool. I ask the crane operator to bring me to her. I drop the soft pretzel in her arms from above, lowering just enough so I can kiss her midair.
“You won!” Hazel says, hugging the plush toy.
It’s hard to ignore the fact that I’m strapped into a harness over an arcade game come to life.
Yet all I care about right now is Hazel.
She doesn’t just say everything will be better.
She makes it better. I take in her delighted expression, bright eyes, and wide-cheeked smile, and more than anything I’ve ever known before, I know this: Love was my real windfall.
“I really did,” I say, hovering in front of her, my calves sinking into the pit balls. “Thank you for this. For everything.”
Hazel sneaks in one last kiss. “You worked so hard to get to tonight. It was time for some fun.”
A line has already formed with Gloria at the front of it. I’m taken back to the start for everyone else to have a turn.
While that’s happening, Suze brings out trays of milkshakes, pizza, and waffle fries for everyone who’s waiting.
It’s after 11:00 p.m., but we’ve got the glow of Times Square pouring in on one side and the lights from restaurant and store signs filling in the other.
Our evening is soundtracked by the noises of the city: taxis honking, crowds of people brushing past each other, chatter from nearby bars, and the songs of Miles Davis played by a saxophonist on the street corner.
A month and a half ago, I would’ve chalked up a night like this to me being lucky. If I’m honest, that feeling is still there, just a little. To exist at the same time as Hazel, to live in the same city as her. There’s a little bit of luck there.
The rest of this, though? It feels earned.
While the cast and crew mingle and celebrate tonight, I get a moment alone with Hazel. We sit next to each other in one of the seats outside the pizzeria, facing the ball pit.
“I saw your win. I’m adding a tally,” Suze says, meeting us at our table.
“I’ll add it to the tracker,” Hazel says playfully. “The positive column will finally get a tally.”
Suze hands us chocolate milkshakes. “Finally got the machine fixed. Sorry that took so long.”
“It’s right on time,” I say as Hazel and I clink glasses.
“I’m loving this look on you,” I tell Hazel after a long sip of my milkshake.
“We’re a sight for sore eyes, huh?” she says through a laugh as she runs her hands down her turquoise and yellow top.
“It was my mom’s. She had a whole box of them, and I had forgotten.
” She smiles, and I can tell this discovery made her very happy.
“I figured if I was surprising you with this, I might as well go all in.”
Could I have predicted that it’d be Hazel giving me a run for my money for most colorful clothing? Never. Guess the future has surprises up its sleeve, too.
“This must’ve taken you weeks to plan,” I say.
“I only came up with it a few days ago,” she admits. “I didn’t have much time to think it through.”
“A spur-of-the-moment human crane machine. Impressive.”
Hazel gives me a knowing look. “Sometimes impulsivity can lead to the very best things.”
“Like you,” I say.
“You took my line.” She takes her first sip of milkshake, her eyes widening when she does. “Okay, you were right. That’s the best in the city.”
I laugh. “So glad you’re in the know now.
You want to know something else?” I ask.
“I normally don’t walk Toffee when there’s even the slightest chance of rain, but I stayed later at work that day and felt guilty that he didn’t get his daily fresh air.
I took him out without looking at the forecast.” I gesture between us.
“So two impulsive decisions led to this.”