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“No, just the check.”
Okay. I placed the pot down on the chipped melamine table, knowing the surface was impervious to heat, cold, and idiots with knives determined to carve their initials or gang-related signs in them. I’d seen it all. After ripping the ticket off my pad and putting it down next to her, I could tell she wanted to ask me something else.
I had no idea whether or not she’d paid any attention to the piece of paper, her gaze remaining on me. It was eerie that I couldn’t see her eyes, just a slight shadow allowing me to know she was studying me.
“What else do you do, Margot? Surely this isn’t your only job.”
Laughing, the bitter sound no longer surprised me. “I’m an actress.” Why not admit I finally had a small part to brag about?
“Oh?” She seemed more animated. “Where do you perform?”
“It’s just a small community theater a few blocks from here. The Easy Street Theater? Have you ever heard of it?” Of course she hadn’t.
“I’m afraid not. I’m new to town. Are you in anything coming up?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m in a final rehearsal this afternoon, our opening night in two days. I’m pretty excited about it. My first starring role.” Why was I telling a complete stranger anything? For all I knew, she could be a stalker or serial killer. Yeah, right. There went my crazy imagination again.
“That’s lovely.” She looked down, finally grabbing her purse, which was also designer, Prada to be exact. I knew my designer brands, my daydreams of being rich and famous the only way of getting peace from the horrific life I seemed to lead. She pulled out a couple of bills, folding them before placing them next to the tab.
I grabbed the coffeepot and the money. “Do you need change?”
“No, I do not, Margot. It was lovely meeting you.” She eased out of the booth, her actions like a Persian kitty uncurling herself from a silk pillow. Everything about her was elegant, her high heels costing more than I made in a week, a direct contrast to the used Nikes I’d picked up from Goodwill just a couple of weeks before.
I waited, watching her as she walked elegantly toward the door, placing one foot in front of the other as a model would do walking down a runway in Paris. Boy, my mind was working overtime. Only after she’d walked out the door did I notice what she’d given me. They were three crisp hundred-dollar bills.
Jesus.
“And never forget, Johnny boy. The sun will rise tomorrow. It’s what we do with the rest of our lives that truly matters.” As he cupped my face, I beamed as required, waiting as the music jumped in pitch, the crescendo as practiced.
“And cut. Fantastic,” the director said from the front row of the theater’s seats. Only on the last practice performance did he sit where the audience would, the meticulous man particular about everything.
Every cast member began to clap, the lights in the small auditorium slowly ebbing to darkness. I took a deep breath, backing away from my costar.
While Jake was cute in every sense of the word, he and I didn’t get along too well. He was just as stiff as I was, his fake smile fading before he turned around, storming off the stage. He’d made a big deal about me being cast in the lead since we’d have to be pretend to be in love. Well, bully for him that he had to fake it ‘til he made it.
Ha.
“Truly fantastic, everyone. I think we’re ready,” the director added, also clapping, which was usually a good sign. It was when he said and did nothing that the cast could worry. I felt giddy as I headed back to the shared dressing room to wipe off some of my makeup. Then it was off to the next job at the small clothing store. At least I didn’t have to close tonight. Maybe I could actually get a few hours of sleep.
Fortunately, my mother had experienced a good day, able to stay by herself without calling in a nurse, which was proving to be way outside my budget. Maybe I’d even stop and get a treat for both of us since I’d gotten such a lovely, large tip.
I was practically skipping as I headed into the small space, sitting down on the cheap stool in front of the mirror, finally smiling for real for the first time in what seemed like months. Today had been a good day all the way around. Maybe my luck was finally changing.
As I grabbed a couple of makeup wipes, I started humming, waiting as the other girls popped in, every one of them excited.
When Mark, our stage manager, popped his head in seconds later, I thought for certain the director was going to call me on the carpet about something. Especially since he had a sheepish look on his face.
“Um, Margot. There’s someone here to see you,” Mark said, acting as if he was letting me know I was being arrested.
“Please don’t tell me it’s a bill collector.”
He snorted, which always made me laugh. Not today. “No. Just some guy dressed in a suit. He asked to see you for just a minute. He’s right outside.”
Hmmm… I’d had my share of admirers over the years, but few of them, other than the godforsaken asshole of a reporter, had followed me here. Usually, it was the jerks at the diner who hit on me. I wiped lipstick off my lips before standing. “Okay. I’ll see him.” I followed Mark out the door and he pointed to a shadowy figure standing only a few feet away.
I took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before moving toward him. The closer I got, the more I realized the mystery man was huge, like six foot five or so. He was also dressed impeccably, the suit he was wearing designer—Armani or Gucci. What were so many rich people doing in a shitty part of Kansas City?
“Can I help you?” I asked.
