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“Probably, yes. But there were security cameras. So, it’s all there.” I’m almost out of breath, thinking only about getting back to Sophie.
“I see…” George replies. “I always thought he was a little off-color, but I never expected he’d go this far. Is she looking to press charges?”
“I doubt it. She doesn’t want to make a big deal, and she insists she’s fine. But my personal opinion? I don’t think it’s safe to keep him on the project in any capacity.”
“I agree,” he says quickly. “You and Sophie should come in this morning as planned. I’ll have someone ready to deal with Nick. We’ll get your statements and have this sorted out.”
“Thank you.”
“Sure thing. You’ll ride in with Sophie? Stay close to her?”
“Of course, I will.”
“Good. See you soon.”
Click.
***
When Sophie and I arrive at the theater, we’re immediately swept into a room with a table full of producers who ask for our stories. They respond with disappointment and sympathy as we explain the ordeal. Then they ask me to step out while she gives a more personal account of what happened, but I stand outside the door, waiting to make sure she’ll be ok once she’s released. She seems more fragile now, and after she relied on me so heavily last night, I want to make sure I’m still around for her if she needs me.
It's surprising how protective I’ve become of her in just the last few hours. I always felt it in some capacity, but now it’s impossible to ignore. It’s less of an obligation, and more of a priority now.
After about twenty minutes, they call me back into the room and explain to both of us that they’ve already reviewed the security footage, and they will be terminating Nick’s employment immediately. He’ll be escorted from the property momentarily, and tonight’s show will be canceled. George wants to give Sophie time to collect herself before we present it to the public for the first time.
Sophie thinks the delay is unnecessary, of course, but the decision has been finalized, and they send everyone home. We’ll rehearse again tomorrow morning, and then our first preview will be tomorrow night.
I watch Sophie, tense in her seat as we ride the subway home. The last twelve hours have turned her into a shell of herself. All the light has left her eyes. So, I turn to her and offer a warm smile. “So, what should we do with our day off?”
She peers at me curiously.
I catch myself and backtrack. I shouldn’t assume. “Or did you maybe want to be alone?”
She looks confused “But you said we…?”
I shrug. “I figure it would be good to do something fun to take our minds off what happened.” Your mind, Sophie. Take your mind off what happened. She’s the one who desperately needs a distraction.
Her expression holds a pleasant surprise as she considers my proposition. Truth be told, I’m not really sure why I’m offering to spend the day with her. We’ve spent so much time threatening to stay away from each other that this seems an odd request, but I hate the idea that she’d go back to her empty apartment and wallow in her anxiety all day. The last thing I want is for her to feel alone.
When she doesn’t respond, I decide to offer up a more specific suggestion. “You know, I’ve always wanted to see Coney Island for myself.” I bite my tongue as soon as I say it, because I may have just made a mistake. We talked about Coney Island the first night we met. It was a flirtatious advance then, but this time I just want to suggest something that will make her happy. I hope I haven’t gone too far.
But she smiles. A real smile. “It’s the middle of winter. Not much will be open.”
“I don’t mind. I just wanna see it. Will you give me the grand tour?”
She bites her cheek as she holds my gaze for a moment. “Yeah, ok, let’s do it.”
The subway comes to a stop, and I’m excited. I love seeing her happy. “Great, what’s the best way to get there?”
She lets out an exhale that sounds like relief and stands up. “The N line, come on, let’s go.”
During the ride, we don’t talk about work or Nick. Sophie tells me about her childhood trips to Coney Island and the traditions they made there. It’s a refreshing change of conversation.
We make it there in just under an hour, but it feels quicker. We walk down the strip of closed cafes and gift shops and then step up onto the empty boardwalk.
“I told you, there’s not much to do here in winter.” Sophie strolls next to me, looking regretful.
To our right is the vast expanse of snow-covered beach, and beyond that the even wider expanse of icy ocean. Sophie wears a heavy coat, pulled tightly around her shoulders. Her red hair is pulled up into a loose bun and a small pink clip holds a few stray strands away from her face. She’s so unassumingly beautiful. I have trouble tearing my eyes away from her long enough to actually enjoy the place I’ve asked to see.
