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Forty-Six
Nick waits for me off the side of the stage, grinning with his arms open. “That was awesome! You should be proud.”
I crash into him, inhaling his familiar Irish-Spring-and-leathery-cologne scent. “Thank you,” I say, my body still surging with energy. Things may not have worked out as planned but this isn’t half-bad. The emcee calls Nick out to the stage and I realize that this is the last time I’ll ever see him live.
“Wish me laughs,” he says, and I nod, smiling as he heads up for the mic. The crowd grows louder, wilder. More than laughs, I wish he wouldn’t give this up. Not yet.
“Hey, Liv,” someone calls behind me. I know that voice. It’s one of my favorite sounds in the world. But it can’t be. Can it?
I turn around, finding Imani with a toothy grin, her arms stretched out, inviting me to her. It is her. Without a word, we crash into each other, embracing each other in a much-needed reunion hug. Tears prickle at my eyes, and if I weren’t still riding the wave of my show’s success, I’d weep on her shoulder like a baby. It’s good to see her. Really good.
“Damn, I missed you,” I say, pulling away to make sure this is all real.
“I missed you too. Are you crying?”
“Yeah, apparently I do that now.” I fling a tear off my cheek like it’s a mosquito. “What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t miss my girl’s last tour stop. Plus, I’m leaving for Europe tomorrow and I didn’t want to wait another three weeks to see you.”
“You know Germany is in the other direction, right?”
“So I see you’ve become a geography major since driving across the continental U.S.”
I laugh, still in disbelief over it all. “I can’t believe you came all the way out here for me.”
She looks into my eyes, almost like she can’t believe this moment is real either. “I thought about our conversation the other night, and I wanted you to know that I’m not just the reality police. I believe in you, Olivia. I want you to know that I have your back. You’re my penguin.”
Resting my hand over my heart, I feel her sincerity. “Thank you.” Okay, now I’m really blubbering. “You’re my penguin too.”
Imani pulls me in for another hug. “All right, you crybaby.” I laugh, wiping my tears away. The one thing I didn’t pack (besides floss) is tissues. “So that’s the famous Nick Leto, huh?”
I look back at the stage behind me. “Yeah, he’s my Jerry.”
“Your what?”
“Never mind.” Because soon it’s gonna be buh-bye.
“Well, whatever he is, he’s kind of a fox. Any sparks fly between the two of you?” she asks, and I avert my eyes, blushing. “Girl, you been holdin’ out on me?”
“It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not going back to New York.”
“That’s a damn shame.”
Imani and I watch the rest of Nick’s set from the back of the room. It’s the most vibrant I’ve ever seen him. Maybe even more than his comedy special. Why would he want to give this up? He’s practically raising the roof with trunkloads of laughs—enough to last a lifetime. Imani bursts into a big belly one, slapping her thigh at his punchline.
See!
I think of my dad giving up comedy to take care of his family. I don’t know what Nick’s hoping to gain by giving this up. Whatever it is, I hope it’s worthwhile and full of love.
—
After the show, the three of us head back to the greenroom to celebrate our last night on our cross-country comedy road tour. Nick cracks open a mini bottle of champagne and pours it into a few lowball glasses on the table. I peer through the glass, looking for spots and dirt. So far it’s cleaner than a comedy condo.
“To us and our last night on the tour. And to Olivia, the last comic standing,” he says with his bubbly raised.
“Hear! Hear!” I say, toasting with my friends. As we sip our celebratory drinks, the door creaks open and chatter from the club spills in, along with someone else. I gasp, practically dropping my drink when I see him.
Oh my Lord.
