Reckless Love: A Billionaire Baby Steamy Fantasy Multicultural Love Story Rockstar Romance (22 page)

Standing in the wings she trembled a bit as the girl auditioning before her performed her lines. She tried not to listen, not wanting to accidentally take on any of the other girl’s interpretation. Luckily, it wasn’t too long before they called her onstage.

“Jayne Massie!” she heard. She took a deep breath, smiled, put her shoulders back and swept on to the platform, barefoot. Her character Ariel was a fairy, so she wanted to give as graceful an impression as she could.

“Hello!” she said, bowing with her skirt held to the side. “I’m Jayne Massie.”
“Great. You’re reading for Ariel as well?”

Jayne couldn’t see who was speaking due to the brightness of the house lights and the darkness of the theater, but she was rather glad about that fact. There had been talk that not only the director but the main backer was going to be attending the auditions. The director and the casting agent she had expected, but the backer was very powerful; a billionaire, they were saying backstage. His name was Carson Weeks, and he was a young man – gorgeous, apparently. Grew up with money, they said, but parlayed it to make his own fortune… so likely he wasn’t one of those trust fund kids who just looked for the occasional project to make them feel better than everyone. He must certainly love the theater.
Or something
, thought Jayne.
Concentrate, now. Don’t think of billionaires. 

“Ellen will come up and read Prospero’s part with you,” said another voice, low and an audible smile. She wondered if it was his, the billionaire’s?

Never mind, just concentrate.

“All hail, great master! Grave sir, hail!” she cried, looking into the stage lights. The terror had turned into something else, a feeling as if she were flying herself, embodying the storm-causing fairy, serving the great master with tempests galore.

“Hast thou, spirit, performed to point the tempest that I bade thee?” read the stagehand flatly, but Jayne soared on, pouring her heart and soul out with each line, feeling as if she were glowing with light and power.

“How now? Moody? What is ’t thou canst demand?” the stagehand continued, largely without expression.

“My liberty.” She spoke the line with dignity, and it rang out in the theater, strong and beautiful.

“Thank you, Miss uhhh… Miss Massie.”

She bowed deeply, gracefully, the terror having transformed into connection, she hoped for them as well.

“We’ll be in touch if there’s anything else. Next!”

Padding quickly offstage, on her toes, she smiled as the next hopeful strode on with purpose. Such is the life of the theater. Grateful to pull a light sweater on her thin body, she hid the vintage 70’s gossamer blouse she wore to evoke the fairy, and practically skipped out of the theater - ready to celebrate with a coffee.
Or maybe a real drink.
Something special, anyway!

Mere minutes later she was in the corner of a bar, waiting a gin and tonic, still feeling a little excited and flushed by what had just occurred. After she texted Ella to let her know how things had gone, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself, aside from people-watch like usual. For this, she had picked an ideal spot, with a perfect view of the Manhattan street through the plate glass window, situated in an out of the way booth with tall upholstered sides. She loved watching people, guessing their motivations and dreams, since it gave her such fodder for her acting.
You never know so much about people than what they don’t tell you,
she figured.
Their every gesture is a trumpet to the world of their true intention. Touching their nose when they made an excuse? Lying. Leaning back when they were hugged? Depended what way it was done, but it could mean pulling you in or recoiling.
She kept all of these responses that she observed carefully stowed away in her mind, waiting for the right moment to express them exactly, maybe in her next play. Maybe in
The Tempest?

There were three people coming across the street out of the theater, she noticed. They were pretty far away so she couldn’t see their features that well, but the way they walked was still pretty evocative. One was a typical theater person. Beard, black clothes, heavy glasses. Short, natural hair. Probably a director. Then there was a small woman, hurrying to keep up with their big strides, and likely doing so in her life as well. Then there was, a full head taller than the others, a young man with a beautiful suit, great body, perfect posture – relaxed, graceful, stretching upright.
It’s like he almost commands the street
,
like Moses with the Red Sea or something
, she thought. It never happened in NYC, but somehow people didn’t honk at him or speed up to intimidate when he stood at the side of the road. Instead, they slowed, then stopped. Jayne stared incredulously as he jaywalked, unhurried, smiling, the others looking up at him in awe.
Suddenly her stomach leapt into her mouth.
It was the audition crew! They said that there was an extra person – the billionaire. And that was Ellen, the stagehand who read for her
. She scooched down lower in her chair.
Could that gorgeous hunk of man be the billionaire, the one? Carson Weeks? Oh God they are coming in here!
She grabbed the plant on the tall banquette between her table and the next, and pushed it over an inch quickly so she could keep an eye on them, and hastily grabbed a menu to cover her face. Just her luck - the hostess brought them over to the very next table.

“Well thank you for including me in this process,” she heard in a pleasantly deep voice, perhaps the one that called from the audience. “It was very rewarding to see how these productions build from the ground up. Of course I did some acting in college but it wasn’t like this. A New York City off-Broadway Shakespeare production. Very cool. Always loved theater.”
Do I detect a bit of an accent?

“Well we were thrilled to have you Carson. Many of our patrons don’t take as much interest. I suppose they’re looking for tax write-offs mostly. Which is also fine with us!” The director laughed.  “As long as we are still able to put on shows, we’re happy.” The waitress came to take their order. Jayne tried to get smaller in her chair, which was difficult when you were a tall girl like she was - all limbs.
It
was
Carson Weeks! The billionaire backer, and the producer.
She wanted to jump up and down and
ask them how she had done, but she didn’t dare. There was no possible outlet for her excitement. Except maybe her phone.

Ella! I’ll text Ella again.
She quickly sent a message. Ella must have been waiting because she heard right back:

              U should eavesdrop and see if they talk about the auditions

The waitress brought over her gin and tonic and she took a grateful sip. It was delicious, sharp gin with a little lime.

             
Wut if they didn’t like me,
she wrote.

             
Then fuck ‘em.

She choked on her drink, half wanting to laugh. Grabbing her water she forced a bit down, desperately trying to stop or stifle her cough. Luckily they seemed oblivious, but on the other side of the banquette she knew she was making a bit of a scene.

“So what did you think of the auditions as a whole?” The director asked.

“Fascinating, really. The difference between the quality seemed to me to be quite slight. Except for a few standouts, it was a very solid playing field.”
 

But me. What did you think about meeee?

“Agreed. Life in this town seems to weed out a lot of the untalented. After all, the talented can barely survive here!” They all laughed, Jayne hoped ruefully.
Real funny,
she thought.

“I’ve always felt that the real patrons of art are the artists themselves,” said the billionaire. “They are the ones who devote their entire lives to continuing a tradition.”

Interesting point…and I agree. But what did you think of… me?

As they went on, vaguely mentioning this actress or other, she started to wonder how long she could stay. After her second gin and tonic it got a little embarrassing.  She’d have to leave before too late, and if they stayed all night, what would she do? Different scenarios went through her head. Would she… crawl under the tables? …sneak behind them on the banquette?  Maybe create a diversion, so that she could get out unseen?  But if so, what with the diversion be? Perhaps throw a lipstick across the room? Trip a waitress? But forget leaving even, she had to go to the bathroom at this point. Two gins and tonics seemed to want to fight their way out and she was definitely a little tipsy. Then finally she heard it.

“I thought that one girl was quite promising. The uh... the tall one.”

“Which tall one? There were a couple.”

“The pretty one? A little lanky?”

Lanky?

“Yes, the Ariel?” There were murmurs of assent. “She was quite good. But is she ready?” said the woman’s voice.

“She’s possibly a little green,” the director’s voice was thoughtful. “We’ll need to check her C.V., see how many productions she’s done.”

“Why do you say green?” The billionaire asked.

“It’s a feeling. She’s talented, but can she control it? When she has it, she has it, but what if she can’t keep it? Hard to set a production on the shoulders of someone like that. And while it’s true that Ariel is not a huge role, it is a pivotal one.”

Pick meeee!
“I see. Well if I had a vote, and believe you me, I don’t want one – your job is hard enough,” the billionaire began. Then there was a pause as she heard the tinkles of the ice as he picked up his drink. “I would take the risk. I’ve built my life on taking smart risks, and I think she is one of those. Yes, I would be thrilled to see her in Ariel’s role on opening night.”

Jayne almost peed in joy and desperation. She was green, there was no doubt. She hadn’t had half the opportunities of some of the actors in the city. No Yale Drama School for her. But if the backer wanted her, and the director would consider it, she had a chance. And that’s all she ever wanted.
Well that, and liberty
, she thought, grinning to herself, thinking of her moment in the glow of the spotlight.

I was good. I was damn good.

Sticking her hand into her purse to find $30 for the gin and tonic, her fingers closed on her savior - a rain poncho crumpled up in her bag.
My hero!
She fished the smock-like garment out of it, and carefully put it on, hood over her head, and further obscured her face with her curls. Hopefully she looked like half of the other women in this godforsaken city and wouldn’t arouse suspicion, but the truth was she would have to take the risk. She waited for the group to get more into their conversation, and then choosing her moment, she ran out, hoping to high heaven she hadn’t forgotten anything.

She had never run to the subway so fast in her life, spurred on by adrenaline and hope, and the need to pee.
Ella! You’ll never believe it!

Ella threw the door open, and hugged Jayne tightly. “I made dinner,” she said. “It’s not that fancy – pasta, and wine – but it should be delicious!’
“That sounds great, mmm.”
“You wanna know why?” She smiled really big.
“Not for the audition?”

“Well yeah, partly,” Ella grinned. “But there’s more than that.”
“What?”

Ella did a big pirouette in the hallway.
“Your agent called!”
“Are you kidding me? Squee!’ Jayne couldn’t bear the excitement. “A call, already? But the audition was just today! Just hours ago!”
 

“I know. I think it’s gotta mean good things, right? Even if it’s not about Ariel, I told you that things happen when you take a risk.”

“Seems to be a theme today,” Jayne mused. “That’s pretty much what the billionaire said.”
Ella pulled her into the galley kitchen. It really wasn’t much more than a closet with a sink, a stove and a mini fridge, but they were pretty happy to have it in this city.

“So you’ll have to tell me about him! After you call your agent back, of course,” Ella smiled.
 

“What’s there to tell? He’s tall, powerful, handsome. Basically everything you’d expect from a patron. Guy could probably do whatever he wanted.”
“Wow. So are you going to call her, or what?”

“Yeah! I’m so nervous though, gimme some of that wine! I’m begging!”
“You got it!” Ella poured a generous glass and handed it to her with the phone. She took a big sip and dialed, her heart in her throat. She wasn’t sure how much more stress she could take today.

“I have a job for you,” came the voice immediately on the other end of the line.