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Chapter 1
Rachel
Rachel Winters could say no to just about everything and everyone—except Michael.
She could turn down the whipped cream on her morning latte to save a few calories. She could say absolutely not to the annoying saleswoman who called her to ask if she wanted to up her insurance—as if she had the extra cash to afford that when she was living in the city. She could say no to the extra drink at happy hour, especially if she had a show the next day. She could say no to all serious relationships, and even if she didn’t, her group of friends in the No Brides Club would sure as heck remind her to say no. Careers first, thank you very much, they had all agreed, even though some of them had loosened up on that prerogative these days. Still, Rachel wouldn’t. She was devoted to their original beliefs. Not like she had time to even consider saying yes to a relationship anyway.
She could say no to almost everything and everyone—but not Michael. It was just a fact Rachel had learned to live with.
As she dashed toward the door, taxis honking in the background, she checked her phone to verify she still had two minutes to spare. Rachel knew she had no one to blame but herself for this crazy Saturday conundrum. Why in the world couldn’t she just tell Michael no?
When he had come to her three weeks ago with those puppy-dog eyes, Rachel knew she was in trouble. He’d explained the situation and how Casey, the lead who exuded an annoying level of confidence most appropriately labeled as arrogance, just couldn’t manage to come and teach the workshops.
Her director insisted on being called just Michael in order to create a friendly vibe as he was one of those types of directors. Rachel didn’t mind, of course. She liked the zaniness of Michael, even when he made them do those annoying team building exercises to build a family feel. Still, watching Casey struggle to sit on someone’s lap in a ridiculous circle exercise had been worth it.
Rachel Winters should have said no to Michael, despite his charming voice and his soothing pleas. All of her friends had assured her over and over she had the right to say no. After all, shouldn’t a lead be doing these sort of outreach activities? Shouldn’t that come with the territory of being granted a role in the spotlight? There were so many cast members he could’ve asked. There was no reason Rachel had to be the one here this morning.
But Michael knew what he was doing. He knew Rachel could say no to anything—except anything that had to do with acting. She said yes to everything theater, everything that could possibly further her career, give her a shot at a bigger role. She voluntarily signed up for all sorts of voice lessons and dancing classes and ridiculous practice hours beyond her contract.
She said yes anytime Michael needed something extra, beyond the realm of her hours on stage. But Rachel didn’t think this was a bad thing. She was devoted to her career. Who was she to argue with the director when she was lucky enough to have snagged a role in the chorus in a Broadway play? How could she say no, especially when she had her sights set on eventually being the lead? In six months, when her contract was up with this play and she had the opportunity to go after one of her dream roles, maybe she’d look back on this yes and be thankful. It was all about who you knew, after all, and how much they liked you. Michael already liked Rachel, but maybe this would distinguish her even more.
Michael also knew she wouldn’t say no because he was friends with Gigi and Beatrice. That was another guaranteed way to get Rachel to say yes. She had a true soft spot for those mentors of hers.
Even putting her career goals aside, when Michael had explained the workshop program to her, she definitely couldn’t say no. A program specifically designed to bring students with developmental disabilities into the theater to learn about Broadway and get one-on-one time with actors or actresses was just a sweet idea. She felt honored, in truth, to be the one picked for the task of teaching the workshop.
So Rachel had said yes—but now, her latte spilling over the top of its cup and leaking down her arm as she dashed into the theater, she sort of wished she hadn’t. She wished that for once, she hadn’t been so career oriented, so focused on getting ahead. And she wished, for once, she had just stuck to the no without any sense of guilt.
Feeling like a hot mess—or, in reality, just a mess—Rachel felt like this was going to be a disaster for all involved. She should’ve let someone more qualified run this workshop, or at least someone who could be on time.
She wished she were languidly resting in bed, sipping her coffee at home while catching up on some trashy reality television. She wished she were wandering down to Starbucks for a scone instead of running what felt like a marathon to get to the class on time.
She was excited, in truth, to get to work with the kids. She’d been chasing her dreams hard, and now she was on her way. She loved the idea of inspiring them, hopefully, to chase their own goals. However, she also felt sort of silly. The kids were coming to Broadway, to one of the most famous productions. They probably thought they’d be working with someone famous and truly in the spotlight.
Instead, they were only getting her, a backrow chorus member whom no one would recognize on the street.
Stop with your self-sabotaging talk,she chided herself as she tried to recall the one line from the self-help book she’d read last week. The words were all jumbled in her head as she dashed to the back room where the class was to be held. Go figure, she’d gotten up late today and had almost missed her chance to make a good impression. Gigi and Beatrice, her neighbors, were in Vegas, so their typical morning banter hadn’t even been present to wake her up. She’d been fortunate Mr. Carlson’s stomping in the apartment above her had been enough to rattle her awake with just enough time to get dressed. And also stop for a latte. There wasn’t going to be any workshop if Rachel didn’t have her caffeine, no matter how late she was running.
Rachel tried to remember the line from the book she read last week, still racking her brain for any sign of that perfectly inspirational quote she needed right now. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t conjure up the line from the book. However, she was pretty sure that in addition to promoting a positive self-image, the author had also been a proponent of being on time.
But hey, she was doing her best here. That would have to be enough, right? Her perfectionist tendencies eased up on the weekend, which was just enough to keep her somewhat sane. Saturdays and Sundays were her “good enough” attitude days, so she decided to cut herself a bit of slack. At least she was here, unlike Casey. At least she had shown up.
She rushed into the room that was set up with folding chairs and attempted to catch her breath as she flew through the door.
“Hi,” she wheezed, breathless and more than just a tad sweaty, as she smoothed down her braids and pulled down on the hem of her skirt that was, in hindsight, perhaps not the best choice when you were dashing down the sidewalks of New York. Still, she might be winded and perspiring with a somewhat short skirt riding up, but she was on time. She’d made it—just barely, but she’d made it. It was a success. A small one, but Rachel was adding up all types of successes these days, so she would count it.
She took a deep breath and continued, “Welcome to Broadway! I’m Rachel Winters, and I’m so excited to be here with you today. Who’s ready to act?” Even to her breathy self, she could tell she was talking way too fast and way too loudly. Maybe the extra latte had been a terrible idea.
The kids didn’t seem to mind her over-the-top enthusiasm, however. Hands shot up and some of the kids started animatedly talking to Rachel about acting and asking if they would get to go on stage. She went to the podium Michael had set up and finally allowed herself to take inventory of the room. About ten teenage students sat in the chairs, some looking more excited than others. Two girls sat in wheelchairs with helpers sitting behind them, and a woman in a suit sat on the end seat. Rachel presumed she was one of the teachers and made eye contact, offering a friendly wave.
Her eyes traveled over her audience until they finally landed on the last seat on her right.
A man sat, leaning back comfortably with his arms crossed as he studied her. His spikey hair gave him a bit of an edge that didn’t quite say teacher but didn’t say rebel, either. He wore dress pants and a button-up, but it was untucked. He sported a healthy dose of stubble that made him slightly disheveled but in a sexy way. The way he claimed his space, a calm look on his face, he looked relaxed and even what Rachel would consider chill.
Nonetheless, when he smiled at Rachel and flashed perfectly white teeth worthy of a model, she was anything but calm.
She found herself staring at his gorgeous blue eyes that radiated, seeming to take in her every move. There was just something about him, something that drew her to him, and she had no idea what it was. Suddenly, the other people in the room were background noise because all she could see was him.
Stop acting like a fool, Rachel, she told herself. You’ve been on stage how many times, and you’re going to let this workshop throw you? Let this guy throw you? Be professional.
