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“Let’s hope not,” Olivia said. “I’ve enjoyed not going on auditions for a while. You know, this could be like a 42nd Street understudy-becomes-a-star story, only instead of the leading lady breaking her ankle, she went off to Hollywood to be in a teen vampire TV series.”
“I’d rather break my ankle,” Will said dryly, tossing his blond hair out of his eyes.
A silver-haired man sitting across from Emily and her friends looked up from his apple pie and studied Emily intently. His gaze sent shivers down her spine—not bad shivers, but a very funny feeling. It was a vaguely familiar sensation, but she couldn’t quite place it.
Becky shoved a paper menu and a pen in front of Emily, drawing her attention away from the man. “I want your first autograph as a star,” Becky said.
Emily signed the menu with a flourish. The silver-haired man got up from his table and approached Emily’s table tentatively, holding a Playbill from her show. Up close, he didn’t look as old as she’d thought. The hair that had looked silver was really more of a white blond, while his face was smooth and youthful. And yet he dressed like an old professor, in a threadbare tweed jacket with a faded and sagging sweater under it. “You are Emily Drake?” he asked, his voice soft and shy. “You were Emma?”
“Yes,” she said, trying not to giggle at the thrill of being recognized.
He put his Playbill on the table in front of her. “I saw your performance. I would like you to sign this.”
“Oh, wow, my first real autograph.” Her stomach fluttered in pleasure. “Who do you want me to sign it to?”
He didn’t seem to understand the question. Frowning in confusion, he said, as though it should be perfectly obvious, “Me.”
“Do you spell that M-E?” she asked with a laugh, then she added, “Or do you just want the signature so you can sell that Playbill on eBay when I’m famous?”
Now sounding unsure of himself, he said, “Yes, that.”
She signed the Playbill carefully, using the autograph she’d been practicing since high school, then handed it back to him. “There you go. I hope you enjoyed the show.”
He smiled and gave her a slight bow. “I did, very much. It was the bee’s knees.” He frowned, then said, “No, that’s wrong. Radical? No.” He shook his head. “It was very good.” He abruptly turned and walked away, muttering under his breath.
“You’ve got a fan!” Olivia whispered with a glance at the man. “And he’s cute, too.”
“Cute, but kind of weird.” Emily checked the time on her phone and said, “Oh, no, I was supposed to call Sophie, but she’d kill me if I called her at this hour. But would that be worse than her killing me for not calling?”
“I think you’re safe from your sister up here,” Olivia said with a grin. “But we should probably call it a night. We’ve got a matinee tomorrow, and you have hype to live up to.”
They got their checks and settled up before heading out. Olivia tried to flag down a taxi, but it passed them by. “You’ll be sorry when she’s famous!” Will shouted after it.
Laughing, Emily struck a haughty pose and added, “Yeah, don’t you know who I am?”
The next two cabs that came by were occupied. “We may as well hoof it uptown,” Olivia said. “Then we’ll be heading in the right direction if another cab comes along.”
The strange silver-haired man had left the diner around the same time they had, and he’d made no move to hail a cab for himself or to walk away. He approached them. “If you are planning to walk uptown, would you mind if I joined you?” he asked. “I do not believe it is prudent to walk alone at this time of night. I read the newspapers. I know what can happen.”
Emily and her friends glanced at each other. This wasn’t a city where it was wise to trust strangers at any time of day, no matter how polite they were. As if sensing their doubts, he smiled and spread his hands helplessly. “The three of you outnumber me,” he said. “I believe I am more at risk in trusting you than you are in trusting me.”
“Well, come on, then,” Olivia said with a shrug and a wry glance at Emily as she started walking. “Home isn’t getting any closer with us just standing here.”
As they walked, Emily studied the man out of the corner of her eye. Olivia was right; he was cute. He was definitely a fixer-upper, but with raw material like that, it would only take one good shopping trip to make him more than presentable. Granted, he was a little strange, but not in a creepy way. It was more like he was unearthly, from some other time or place. Based on his wardrobe, Emily guessed that he might be an academic who seldom left his ivory tower. Not her usual type, but variety was the spice of life.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Will said to him.
The man hesitated, then finally said, “I am called Eamon.”
“Thank you for coming to our show, Eamon,” Olivia said.
“Do you think our Emily’s going to be a huge star and forget all her friends?” Will asked.
Any normal person would have said something like, “Of course she’ll be a huge star, but I doubt she’ll forget her friends.” Eamon said, “They do often forget,” his voice solemn and mournful.
“Okay!” Will said in a “changing the subject now” tone. He, Olivia, and Emily continued chatting about the show as they walked. Eamon listened attentively, smiling as though he enjoyed hearing the conversation, but he made no effort to join it.
They reached Columbus Circle without running across an available cab. “So, park side?
