"Put him in a suit with shoulder pads and he'll be fine."
"Fine? We don't want fine. Don't be a bloody galah. Gomez Addams oozes sultriness and sex appeal. This guy looked like Morticia could snap him in half with her fingertips."
Maybe they weren't joking about the cage match to the death. You can cut the tension with a knife.
"How about that Todd guy—terrible name though, he should use a stage name—for Stacie Jaxx inRock of Ages. I can see him much more as that part than Tom Cruise." I chime in, hoping to diffuse the situation. Henderson cocks his head in thought.
Grayson looks at his notes before nodding in agreement. "Thanks. That's one problem solved. But who are we going to get for Gomez if you don't like Tony Garcia?"
Before things get much more heated, the door opens, interrupting the onset of World War III. In glides a slim man with round tortoiseshell glasses and a crazy striped scarf. He looks like stock casting for Mark fromRent.
"How's my favorite Upstate, off-Broadway team doing?" His eyes lock on me, and he stops dead in his tracks, clutching his heart. "Tabby Cat."
I stand up, extending my hand. "Tabitha Stetson. And you are …?"
"Carson Reuben,Backstage Magazine. It's you. What are you doing here? Are you with The Edison this season?Please Say Yes." Then he laughs, obviously impressed with his reference to our last hit song.
I glance quickly at Henderson. "Carson Reuben? You're the reason I'm here. Thank you so much." I lean forward and give him a quick peck on the cheek.
Henderson stands abruptly. "Good to see you again, Carson. Um, Gray, Tabitha and I are gonna take off now. Sketch out some ideas, and I'll work on mine. We can compare notes tomorrow before you catch the train back north. You're not leaving until afternoon, right?"
Grayson laughs, looking from Henderson to me and back again. "Right. Your notes. Un-huh. I'll believe that when I see it. 'Night, you two. I'd tell you to have a good time, but I'm guessing that's exactly what you have planned." Grayson winks at me, and I can't help but laugh.
"Are we that obvious?"
"I think a billboard in Times Square might be more subtle. Now get outta here."
Henderson clears his throat. He's obviously uncomfortable talking about our evening plans with anyone. I can see why though. He's definitely not a limelight kind of guy.
This is a new one for me.
"Okay, we're going to go then. Carson, it's good to see you again. Gray, I'll catch ya tomorrow."
I scurry into my coat and grab my bag. Henderson shrugs into his coat and heads for the door. I have to rush to catch up with him. I'm out of breath by the time I’m finally close enough to grab his hand.
"Stop for a minute. Where are we going? What are we doing?"
He turns and looks at me, a tight-lipped smile dancing across his face before he leans in and whispers, "I'm going to make all your dreams come true."
Before I can ask what dreams, I know what he's referring to.
The one thing he promised was to teach me how to use the subway.
I couldn't care less about the damn subway right now.
All I can think about is his lips on mine and his hands on my body. I want more of that. Right now.
"This is an easy one. We take the 7 train toward Flushing."
He might as well be speaking another language. "Is this it?" I point to a sign with a purple circle and the number 7 in it.
"No, that's toward Hudson Yards. That's heading west. We need to cross the river to the east. I'm in Long Island City. It's Queens."
I blink slowly, trying to follow him. How can he be thinking of transportation at a time like this? Maybe figuring out the subway isn't really that important. "Maybe we could just take a car? It'd be faster."
"Not really. Maybe save us a couple minutes. That's it. And it's more expensive." He swipes his card once and pushes me through the turnstile. Down here, it feels like there's no air. Has anyone ever passed out from lack of oxygen? As soon as I'm through, Henderson swipes again and then enters. "Though I guess that's not an issue for you."
He doesn't say it accusingly; simply a fact.
