“I’m fine.” She laughed, but it sounded pinched, unnatural. “I’ve had a cold … I get a little underweight.”
Was she kidding? Bailey wanted to scream at her, tell her that she desperately needed help. But instead all she could do was look at Chrissy for a long moment. The girl hid her problem well. Her arms weren’t as thin as her legs, and since the dress she wore on stage had a longer skirt, she had so far danced her way under the radar. Francesca had told them a few times just since Bailey had arrived that eating disorders would destroy a girl’s career as fast as drugs or drinking. “All things in moderation,” Francesca had told them. It was a mantra of sorts when she talked to them about their personal lives. So had she pulled Chrissy aside and urged her to get help? Or were her comments more of a suggestion for the cast, her way of addressing Chrissy’s troubles in a passive manner?
Because Chrissy’s problem was both obvious and dramatic, and Bailey had no idea what to do. If Chrissy wouldn’t admit she needed help, Bailey wasn’t sure she could do anything. She would make a point to talk to her later — maybe after the show. For now she only smiled nervously at her. “I’m here for you … if you want to talk.”
“Thanks.” Chrissy applied her makeup in silence after that.
Bailey finished up first and reported to the green room. There were so many hurting people on the Hairspray cast. Two of the guys were gay, and Bailey had overheard them talking in rehearsals about their partners — both of whom were dying of AIDS. Bailey had a feeling several of the other guys were gay too, but she didn’t ask.
Already one of them had pulled her aside during a rehearsal last week. “Look … everyone’s talking about you. How you’re a Bible fanatic.” His angry tone softened a little. “I’d just like to ask you not to judge us … you know, those of us who are gay. God loves us too.”
The comment left Bailey speechless. Of course God loved them. He loved all people. But that didn’t change the Bible’s viewpoint on homosexuality or taking care of the body, and so far she had no idea how she was supposed to respond. She didn’t want to come across as self-righteous or judgmental. She wasn’t perfect, after all. She struggled with anger at Cody and doubts about her abilities and place in the Hairspray cast. But at the same time she was anxious to offer them the hope of God. The conflict remained, and she still had no idea how to treat the situation. Christians had taken so much heat for being judgmental that Bailey wasn’t sure she could say anything.
For now, Bailey put all those thoughts from her mind. This was her opening night, and she could hardly wait to get on stage. Out there they didn’t have to worry about eating disorders or AIDS or any other struggle except her own — to keep up with the rest of the cast. Tonight they would be just a group of kids dancing their way through the sixties, looking for racial equality.
Francesca found her in the green room ten minutes before show time. She walked up quickly and put her hands on Bailey’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Ms. Flanigan?”
Bailey gulped. “Yes, ma’am. I hope so … I mean, yes. Yes, I am.”
Francesca studied her. “You bring a good name to this show.” She sized her up and down, as if she were still forming an opinion of Bailey. “Keep working hard and you’ll do well. I believe that.”
Bailey thanked her, but she felt defeated. A good name? Was that really why she was here? Because her name and her connection to the movie Unlocked brought buzz to a show that hadn’t been selling out lately? She felt the blood leave her face, and her fingers tingled the way they had once when she’d fainted after a blood test. She couldn’t be about to step on stage for her first night on Broadway not sure if she belonged. The doubt would paralyze her. No wonder the cast was whispering about her, calling her out about her faith and her connections. For a long moment she thought about putting in her time tonight and then resigning. If she wasn’t good enough, then she didn’t want anyone’s charity.
Breathe, she told herself. Dear God … help me lean on You. Help me be good enough … please.
The response was straight out of a devotion Bailey had read earlier that morning:
Daughter, remember in this life you will have trouble …
In this life she would have trouble. But the rest of the verse was where she focused her attention. Because God had already overcome the world, and He’d already overcome her anxiety about tonight.
She took a deep breath and remembered something her mother had told her earlier that week. “Not all things will be easy for you, Bailey. It’s the hard things that grow us. If you need to get stronger as a performer, then you’ll get stronger.”
Bailey headed out to her place in the wings. She and the others in the ensemble didn’t make their appearance until a couple scenes into the show. The whole time she let Francesca’s words stay with her. She needed to be ready. No way around it.
The house was filling up, but not like it needed to be. “We need to get those seats filled,” Chrissy whispered to her in the shadows. “Otherwise they’ll pull the show. They’ll only be patient for so long.”
More pressure to perform. Bailey willed her breathing to slow down, prayed that her heartbeat wouldn’t get too far ahead of her. She would get better, and together they would make the show so great people would flock to see it. Bailey just got here. If she could be strong enough to stay, she couldn’t bear to think about the show closing.
“We need to pray,” Bailey spoke in a whisper too — more to herself than to Chrissy. “For the show to do something good. So it’ll stay open.”
“No …” Chrissy’s face held a sadness that she probably hadn’t intended to reveal. “We don’t need prayer. We need an audience.”
Again Bailey saw the opportunity to talk, the chance to share exactly what her faith meant with a girl who seemed at least a little curious. But Bailey still had no idea how to take the conversation from talk about rehearsals and shows and the intensity of their director to a place where the faith she so desperately clung to would be evident.
And maybe even something one of her castmates might claim as their own.
Six
THE SHOW WENT BY MORE QUICKLY THAN BAILEY EXPECTED.
One minute she was taking the stage for “Nicest Kids in Town,” and the next they were through with the intermission and headed into “You Can’t Stop the Beat.” Bailey felt like she was running through syrup. The singing, the dancing … the expressions she was required to give for every part of every number when she was on stage — all of it made her feel half a step behind. Even so, she was doing this, she really was — singing and dancing on Broadway!
Far too soon, she was singing “Mama, I’m a Big Girl Now” with the rest of the cast, giving every move, every note everything she had. And like that … the show was over. Bailey and the other ensemble dancers were first to take their bows, and as they did Bailey felt tears fill her eyes.
Whatever had happened on stage, whatever terrible way Bailey felt about her performance, the audience must’ve felt differently. Because they were on their feet — from the beginning of the curtain call to the end. Bailey hurried off stage right as another set of dancers took a bow, the leads were next, and finally the sweet-natured girl who played Tracy, the show’s star. The actress wasn’t at every rehearsal, so Bailey hadn’t connected with her. But she seemed kind, and she was brilliantly talented.
Breathless and laughing from the exhilaration of the night, Bailey waited with the others until the curtain hit the stage. Then she exited down the stairs toward the green room. As she did, one of the stage hands approached her. He held a bouquet of at least a dozen long-stemmed red roses. A few of the dancers hesitated and stared at the roses, then at her. Two of them whispered something to each other and then looked at her as they walked off. Bailey had no idea what they were thinking. It was her first night, after all.
“What in the world …?” Bailey laughed once, still trying to catch her breath. Had her parents sent these? She took the flowers and thanked the gu
y, but almost immediately she realized there was no card on the flowers. “I’m sorry.” She touched the man’s elbow. “Do you know … who these are from?”
A grin appeared on the man’s face. “Some guy.” He pointed to the opposite side of the stage. “He’s waiting for you over there. By the back door.”
For half a heartbeat Bailey wondered if it might be Cody, if maybe he’d been silent these past weeks because he was planning a surprise for her opening night. But as she walked behind the backstage, in the aisle between the heavy velvet curtains, she caught a glimpse of someone on the other side, someone working his way into her heart a little more every day.
“Brandon!” She had the flowers in one hand, but she hugged him anyway, holding onto his neck and breathing in the smell of him, the thrill of him. “I can’t believe this.” She was laughing, half breathless, half stunned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And miss out on this moment?” He drew back enough to see her face. “You were absolutely amazing tonight. Every minute you were on stage you shone brighter than anyone in the cast.”
“I felt like I was dancing in quicksand,” Bailey frowned.
“Are you kidding?” He held her shoulders and stared at her. “Did you hear that applause? They loved you. They loved the whole show.”
It was true, and her frown didn’t last. It couldn’t. Not when her heart couldn’t stop smiling. “Brandon … you’re really here.”
He laughed out loud. “Like I could stay away.”
Her head was spinning, but she put her finger to her lips, laughing in more of a whisper now. “We have to be quiet. The rest of the cast …”
“Sorry.” He chuckled and dropped his voice. He slid his arms down around her waist, and she eased hers around his neck. “You’re so beautiful, Bailey … from the inside out.” He took a step back, and his expression became almost bewildered. “Seriously, I had no idea you could sing and dance like that.” He leaned his shoulder into the nearest wall, his eyes never leaving hers. “No wonder you don’t want Hollywood. For a ride like that every night, I’d switch to Broadway too.” He shook his head, his awe as genuine as his laugh. “And none of this dancing in quicksand. Be serious. It makes what I do look pretty boring.”
She took his hand with her free one. Her surprise was wearing off, and now she wanted him to know how much it meant to her that he was here, that he cared this much. “Not when I was with you … never boring, Brandon.” She breathed in his presence, the smell of his jacket and his cologne and the look in his eyes. “I loved being on the set with you. Every minute.”
He had no easy comeback. Rather his expression shifted to that of a teenager, smitten beyond words, and speechless in the presence of the girl he was falling for. He shrugged one shoulder and flashed her a crooked grin. “What can I say? It was fun.”
“Yes.” She swung his hand lightly, enjoying the playfulness they shared. “And someday,” she made a face, “if I last on Broadway … I’ll have to take a break so we can do that love story.”
He took a step closer, looking so deeply into her she could feel his heart. “Oh, we’ll do the love story, Bailey … I have no doubt.”
This was something else she loved about Brandon. He was confident. He didn’t take no for an answer, even after all this time. Every other girl Brandon Paul had ever fallen for would’ve been his by the end of the night. Not her … not hardly. If Bailey knew him as well as she thought she did, she was more of a challenge than anything he had ever gone after. But not once did he show his discouragement.
“You look happy, Bailey, do you know that?” He brushed his knuckles lightly against her cheek. “It was worth every mile to see you this happy.”
“Thanks. I thought I was going to collapse out there.” She was dizzy again, her stomach nervous and excited and thrilled all at once. Brandon had come! For her opening night! She held the flowers to her face and captured the smell of them. “They’re beautiful.”
“Not as much as you.” He looked like he might kiss her, here in the dark shadows behind the stage. But then he took a step back and slipped his hands in his pockets. He wore dark jeans and a light brown long-sleeved thermal. He also wore a dark hoodie, which would help keep him from being recognized.
“You look great.” She tilted her head. Suddenly the night stretched out in front of them with endless possibilities of where they could go … what they could see in the city together.
“Especially this.” Brandon adjusted his baseball cap and made a funny face. “Gotta love the hat. Can’t go anywhere without it. That and the sweatshirt. Thought about bringing the dark glasses, but at night they might only make things worse.”
She laughed out loud at the picture of him walking New York City streets with dark sunglasses at night. The hoodie was a better idea. Between the cap and the sweatshirt, people wouldn’t recognize him. He flipped the hat backwards and nodded toward the commotion on the other side of the stage. “Let’s put the flowers in the dressing room.”
“Okay.” She hesitated. “Do you … want me to introduce you to the cast?”
“Sure.” Brandon had an easy way about him. He clearly wasn’t worried that one of the cast would alert the paparazzi. They were entertainers too, after all. “Do you have plans with them? Tonight, I mean.”
“I did.” She smiled. The whole night felt better now that he was here. “But they can wait.” She gave him another quick hug. “I have plans with you now.” Once more she took his hand in hers, and she led him down the aisle and to the green room. On the way, she almost changed her mind. Already the cast thought she was here because of her association with Brandon and Unlocked. Seeing him here would only fuel their doubts about her talent. But she didn’t care. A few of the cast had already left, but most of the dancers were still there. They looked her direction as she entered the room. “Hey, everyone … I’d like you to meet Brandon Paul.”
There was a hesitation, the sort that was to be expected. The cast might be in the same business as Brandon, but still he was a household name, easily the most familiar face in Hollywood. The guys nodded in his direction, and a few uttered their greetings. Two of the girls began to giggle, and one of them grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from her purse. “Sorry … I hate to do this, but can I have your autograph for my sister?”
Brandon’s laugh came easily. He was comfortable in this environment — in any environment, for that matter. He understood that his celebrity came with certain requirements, responsibilities — and he bore them without arrogance or grumbling. He signed the paper and posed for a quick phone picture with the girl and her friend.
Chrissy came up then. “Hi, Brandon … I love your work.” She looked at Bailey. “I’ve wanted to tell you … I loved you in Unlocked.”
“Thanks.” Bailey had been so busy learning her part, she hadn’t realized that by now most of the cast had probably seen her movie. Was that the reason they had seemed colder toward her lately? Because they were bugged that an on-screen actress would win a part on Broadway? Or was her mediocrity on stage the cause? She wasn’t sure, but she could hardly ask about it here. She made a mental note to talk to Chrissy about her perceptions another time.
Chrissy was going on, telling Brandon how amazing he had been in the movie, and how she’d been a fan forever. While she talked, her hands shook, and again it was obvious that she was far too thin. The bones in her arms and wrists made her look almost skeletal. She pulled her phone from her purse and asked one of the other cast to take a picture of her with Bailey and Brandon. After the photo was snapped, Chrissy turned to Bailey. “You did good tonight, Bailey, … really.” She hugged Bailey. “I know you were worried, but you did just fine.”
Just fine. Bailey wondered if her new friend would’ve chosen different words if she’d been amazing tonight, or if she’d wowed them beyond what they had expected. The compliment came off feeling like a consolation somehow.
As she and Chrissy and Brandon talked, several of the other dan
cers gathered their things and left — most of them with a friendly wave or a “Nice to meet you.” But a group of dancers — several guys and a couple girls — whispered among themselves, and one of them covered a ripple of laughter. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she’d heard one of them say something about her thinking she was better than everyone else. Whatever they were talking about, Bailey doubted it was kind.
Oh, well. Not everyone was going to like her. That was okay. Maybe she’d find out later what their deal was.
Brandon must have picked up on what they were thinking and saying, because he looked at the time on his phone. “We better go.”
“Definitely.” She crossed the room to a sink, added water to the vase the flowers had come in, and set them on her makeup table. They said a quick goodbye to the others still in the room.
Chrissy slung her bag over her shoulder. She smiled, but in a wistful sort of way. “Go have a blast, Bailey. You deserve it.”
She deserved it? Bailey wasn’t sure what Chrissy meant. The two of them didn’t know each other well enough for the comment to be based on anything Chrissy might know about Bailey. She would talk to her about it later. For now Bailey hugged her friend goodbye, and again she felt how frail the girl was. She couldn’t have weighed a hundred pounds. Suddenly Bailey knew she had to bring up the subject, had to urge Chrissy to get help. She was so thin she could be in danger.
When Chrissy was gone, after Bailey had changed into her street clothes and she and Brandon were alone again, Bailey turned to him. “Okay … I’m ready.”
“Good … the horse should be there by now.”
“What?” Bailey stopped just short of the stage door and turned to him. “What horse?”
“You know me, Bailey.” He held his hands out, his eyes dancing. “Always full of surprises.” He took her bag and led her outside. As they walked, he flipped his hat around, tugged the bill low, and slipped his hood over his head, so that his eyes couldn’t be seen as long as he kept his head down. The night air was cool enough that Brandon’s disguise looked very natural. “Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s go fast.”