Page 84 of Make Me Laugh

My jaw drops again. I feel like a kid who’s just been told he gets to meet his favorite superhero. “Absolutely.” I don’t mean to answer for her. I’m just embarrassingly excited.

Unlike most people in the comedy community, I didn’t start in theater or performing of any kind. All of this is new to me, something I stumbled upon by accident, which makes a lot of my peers think I don’t belong or that I haven’t earned my success.

Joey smiles, her hand falling to my thigh. She discreetly squeezes above my right knee. I fucking hate I’m wearing pants and can’t feel her fingers on my skin. “Sounds like we’re in.” She removes her hand after only a single breath.

God. Fucking. Damnit.

I’m never going to be able to stick to the terms of our contract. Especially when leaning into a more physical relationship isn’t just what I want, but apparently what our fans are itching for too. They’re begging for more banter. More pictures. More videos of just us—which we’ve yet to do.

And especially not if Joey keeps adding exclamation points to her daily reminder.

“Great! Go to the ticket counter at the end of the show and tell them to take you to Jules. I’ll stop by and let them know before I head back.” She waves goodbye, and we turn to stare at each other.

“Frankie’s gonna be pissed we met the Founding Fathers without her,” Joey deadpans, delivering with the cleanest dry tone.

I burst into laughter, and so does Joey. She reaches out and rests her hand on my arm, sending the happiest wave of warmth through my body.

Laughter and Joey. They’re the only drugs I need.

When we come down from a laugh that has a few people glancing our way, Joey wipes a tear off her cheek. “Fuck, okay we gotta stop. I’m messing up my makeup.”

I stand up, nodding towards the bar through the doors. “Let’s go get a drink.” I hold my hand out to help her up.

She hesitates for a second but ends up taking it. I knew I wouldn’t get lucky enough that she’d hold it again like she’d done in New Haven, but I’ll take what I can get.

That hasn’t changed.

After we get drinks, and I tap my phone to pay for them both, obviously getting a lecture from Joey about it, we end up back in our seats right before they dim the lights.

I wiggle happily like a girl who sees the server bringing their food out.

Before the music starts, Joey leans over to whisper, “the second act is better than the first.”

And holy shit, is she right.

An affair?

He wrote it all down?

His poor wife!

Not his son!

SPOILER ALERT!

Burr killed Hamilton?

By the end of the show, every muscle in my body is sore from the absolute shock I’m in over what I just witnessed.

“That was brilliant.” There are so many details and intricacies I know I missed, but I’m already planning a lazy day rewatch. “No notes.” I twist in my seat to face Joey, frowning playfully at the mascara tears smearing her cheeks. “Joey baby, who hurt you?”

She sniffles and lets out a muted laugh. “Hamilton.”

Bringing my thumb to her cheek, I gently rub the black stains from both sides, getting lost in her eyes. Personally, I’d sit here forever if she let me, staring into the green pools of her soul, but I have to be careful coming on too strong. Joey’s easily scared. “Do you want me to go beat him up?”

“He’s already dead.” She sighs sadly.

I feign shock. “See, he had it coming.”