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Forty-Four
It’s 2:33 when Chuck’s rental screeches to a halt in front of NBS Studios. “Go, go!” Amy says, hollering at me like I’m yards away from the finish line.
“Thanks for the ride!”
“Thank us after you nail your audition.”
I shut the car door, unload my luggage from the back, and race inside as fast as my baggage will allow. I’m only a few minutes late, that’s not so bad. I really hope it’s not so bad. Pulse racing, palms sweaty, and knees seconds from buckling, I say a silent prayer to the stand-up gods as the elevator climbs.
Ding!
The doors open and I start for the office, but I can’t move fast enough. This shit has got to go. Without a second thought, I abandon my baggage in the hall and dash toward the glass door, sweat beading on my brow. I fling it open and shoot a laser-like stare at the receptionist. “Hi, I’m Olivia Vincent,” I say, panting. “I have an audition.”
“Uh-huh.” I catch her lip snarling at me before she clicks around on her mouse. “You had a 2:30 p.m., correct?”
“Yeah, I’m a little late. I just came from Las Vegas. My ride’s Jeep was stolen overnight, I had to get to the car rental place, but it was crazy packed, and this couple I witnessed get married last night were there, so they gave me a ride but then we hit some traffic on the way—a broken-down bus of course—I tried to call but I couldn’t get through to the office because I didn’t have much information and—”
She cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “Let me save you the rest of your breath. Your audition was the last of the day. The bookers just left for a company event. I’m sorry but you missed your chance.”
“They’re—they’re gone? I’m only seven minutes late.”
“Just late enough. You’ll have to reschedule. And might I suggest leaving earlier next time?”
It’s like my heart actually splinters and shatters inside my chest. “I missed it?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
This is it. After everything I’ve been through to get here—the bad shows, the Elvis impersonators, Jeremiah’s funeral and scorned wife, Midland and my dad, the wild ride with Nick—I completely missed the Late Night Show audition? Seven minutes. That’s all it came down to, seven stupid minutes.
Just like I learned in comedy class. Timing really is everything.
I drag my feet to the hallway. My lump of luggage waiting for me like it wants to go home now. I do too. Though, I’m not even sure what that’s going to look like anymore. I make my way out of the studio building, standing on the shady sidewalk with nothing. My entire comedy career flashes before my eyes—all that was and all that could be.
Then I hear footsteps close in on me and look up. We left the desert miles ago but I swear it’s a mirage. “Nick?”
“Hey.” He stands there steadily, dressed in his black leather moto jacket in this July heat, gaze exposed without sunglasses, looking at me like he has so much on his mind. I don’t know what to say or how to react. He lied to me. But he’s here now, and I’d be lying if I said it’s not good to see him.
“How did you get here?” I ask, feet glued to the sidewalk.
He drops his head for a moment, then looks into my eyes. “Turns out my Jeep wasn’t stolen. It just got towed.” That damn chapel parking lot. “It took a while but I got it back. Everything’s in it. Including your garbage bag pillow.”
So Nick didn’t lose anything that mattered to him. But I did.
“Oh.”
“Olivia, I’m sorry about this morning,” he says. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about L.A. I wanted to but—”
“But what?”
He releases a heavy sigh. “The thing is, when I was with you, it felt good to pretend like everything was okay. Like I wasn’t just divorced. Like I wasn’t about to quit stand-up. And like maybe things could turn out the way I wanted them to. I think a part of me didn’t want you to look at me the way you did this morning. Like I’m just a big disappointment.
“I also don’t want you to think that this was just another tour and that you’re just another girl because you’re not. I really care about you, and I really do wish things were different.”
I wish things were different too. I wish I could pretend everything was fine the way I used to. But I can’t run from reality anymore.
He hands me my set sheet, the one I had to reconstruct in the car. “Anyway, I came to give you this. It was on the floor in my room this morning. I was speeding my ass off to get to you on time but I guess I just missed it.”
“You’re not the only one.”
