"Midtown Manhattan."
"Right." I look back at my phone screen. "It says the auditions run from nine a.m. until seven p.m. all week. That's a super long time."
"Oh, poor guy. It's got to be hellacious for him."
The plan hatches in my head like a burst of light going off. As clear as day, I can see what I'm going to do in my mind. "Can you call Gayle? I want to talk to her for a minute."
I had a falling out with my own agent just after Paisley was born. Since I wasn't pursuing a career of any sorts, I never felt the need to replace her. Gayle has worked with us as the Sassy Cats, so I'm pretty sure she'll take my call. Hell, she'd probably even take me on as a client, if I ask.
This finally gets Angie's attention.
"Tab, what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to go see Henderson." I stand up and walk down to my room. I doubt I have the right clothing for this. Nope. Back to Angie's closet.
"What are you doing?" She's standing over my shoulder, like a protective parent.
Or as I imagine a protective parent would be.
"You know the reason he was out to dinner, right? He was there to convince Tawny Shane to audition for one of his shows. Well, he got me instead. I'm going to auditions."
I pull a pair of leggings and a leotard out from Angie's drawer. There are tights there too, so I grab them, just so I look legit. I find a warm-up wrap sweater, but then toss it back. I select an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt. "I'm borrowing these."
"What am I supposed to ask Gayle, exactly?"
"What do I need to have prepared for an audition? I guess I'm going to have to sing and stuff. The dancing will be hopeless, but maybe I won't need to do that. Do I have to prepare a monologue? I don't know if I know any."
I head into the bathroom to change. I haven't donned dance clothes in years, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do for shoes. I'll have to wear my little canvas sneakers. I'm sure everyone else will be wearing heels, but it's not like I'm serious about getting a part.
Just a date.
"Tabitha, you can't be serious," Angie says the minute I walk out of the bathroom. I'm scooping my hair up into a high bun. I hate to pull it back, now that it's finally restored to its proper glory, but this is what professionals do.
"I'm totally serious. How else am I going to get to see him? Hang around on a street corner and wait for him to come out? Um, stalker much?"
"How is this any different?" Angie throws up her hands in exasperation.
"Because he wanted me to audition. I'm giving him what he wants. And maybe he'll go out with me again. You know, he could have been pining away for me this whole time. I'm doing him a service, really. It's for the greater good. After all, I'm a giver."
“Un-huh," Angie says dryly. "This is nuts, you know. Why don't you just call the theater and leave a message? Surely they could pass it on to Henderson."
While Angie's argument is rational, it's boring.
"I don't want to play it safe. I want him to remember me doing this for him."
"Oh, I don't think there's any way he'll ever forget this."
"Ang, one last thing?"
She sighs. "What, Tabby?"
I crease my brow. "How the hell do I get to Midtown Manhattan?"
Chapter 14: Henderson
Audition days are either the best or the worst. One guess as to which this one is.
Grayson sits next to me and stifles a yawn. He's had about four energy drinks, so the fact that he's still tired speaks to the caliber of talent we've seen so far over the past two days.
