I almost ask why, but the reasons are pretty obvious. We’re not exactly high on the theater hierarchy. “What should we say instead?”
“It’s our moment to be anyone we want,” Alex says, adjusting her dress in the elevator mirror. “Tonight, I’m a makeup artist forGood Morning America.”
“That’s not even filmed in Chicago,” Simon sneers.
Alex clicks her tongue. “Whatever.”
The elevator opens to a beautiful hallway, adorned with silver sconces. I follow Simon and Alex toward a set of double doors. My stomach clenches, maybe from the nervesthat are building. Simon doesn’t bother to knock. He pushes the doors right open, letting the music pour into the halls as we head inside. There’s a sea of silk shirts and glittering dresses. It’s like something out ofThe Great Gatsby. Art deco walls, floral arrangements, hands holding martini glasses. The apartment connects two great rooms, taking up half the floor of the building. A server passes in front of us, holding a tray of what looks like smoked salmon on toast.
“The rent for this place must beungodly,” Simon says.
Alex leans into him. “See anyone we know?”
He looks around. “Jesus, there’s Brian.”
I squint through the crowd. “Who’s Brian?”
“Theotherchorus boy Simon’s hooking up with,” Alex whispers to me.
“I told you, he’s anunderstudy!”
Alex rolls her eyes. She pulls a compact from her bag, checking her makeup again. More people flow in through the door behind us. I swallow my breath at the mingling crowd, the sound of music filling the air.
Simon takes another look around. Then he turns to us and says, “Alright, ladies, let’s split up.”
I give him a look. “Wait… what?”
“We didn’t come to hang out with each other all night,” he says, rolling his eyes. “We came tomeetpeople. You know, rub shoulders with the social elite. Maybe make out with a producer in the bathroom.”
“A class act,” Alex says.
Simon turns to her. “And what’s your plan?”
“I’m here to find my rich husband,” she says, putting her compact away. “My strategy this time is playing damsel in distress, so I should probably be on my own.”
Simon laughs. “Damsel in distress? That should be easy for you. You’re helpless by nature.”
I glance between them. “I’m confused. Are you guysfriends?”
Alex lifts her chin. “Eleven o’clock.”
“What?” Simon spins around. “Damn it,Brian’s coming over,” he says through gritted teeth. “I have to go, I have to go.” He covers his face with one hand, storming off in another direction.
The moment he disappears, I turn to Alex. Her eyes are scanning the crowd, searching for someone. Then she looks at me and says, “Don’t be so nervous, Eric.”
“You can tell?”
Alex places a hand on my shoulder. “Just try to have some fun. Maybe your future rich husband is out there, too.”
“Maybe,” I say.
“I think it’s good to have goals,” she whispers in my ear. “I’m all about manifesting. Putting things out into the universe, you know? You just have to be sure what youwant.”
I think about this.What do I want tonight?
“I’ll see you in a bit,” Alex says with a wink. She turns again, adjusting the strap of her dress. “Off to find someone to pay my loans.” She takes a meditative breath and closes her eyes, as if getting into character. Then she wanders off, onehand clasping her shoulder, looking around like she’s lost in some enchanted forest. It only takes a minute before some Prince Charming–like fellow appears at her side, offering his hand.
And then there was one.
