Comedy Girl

  “But you can get anyone—you’re Jelly Bean!”

  “I want a woman, and someone whose act is completely different from mine. No jokes about overeating, marriage, or growing up in the South. And I want someone who’s totally clean. You’re a girl, you’re in high school, and you handle yourself well onstage—except when I’m standing next to you. We’ll have to rehearse that part,” he joked.

  My mouth dangled in disbelief.

  “Who’s your manager?” he continued.

  “Manager?” I asked.

  “Who runs your career?” he asked, tearing into another wing.

  “My mother runs my life! Does that count?”

  “My agent will call you to confirm the dates and make your travel arrangements.”

  “But what if I bomb?” I asked nervously.

  “The worse you are, the better I look!” he said with a wink.

  But Jelly Bean, of course, was kidding. I’d have to be excellent—he’d want the entire show to kill.

  I used my cell phone and called Sid from the bathroom stall in Chaplin’s.

  “What’s up, Shrimp?” he shouted, the Rolling Stones blaring in the background.

  “I just met Jelly Bean!”

  “Who?”

  “Jelly Bean!” I yelled.

  “Kill the tunes, dude. My sister’s calling,” he hollered. Mick Jagger was suddenly silenced.

  “Jelly Bean?” he asked. “No way!”

  “Yes way! And he wants me to open for him in Vegas!”

  “You rock, sista!”

  “But I have a dilemma,” I confessed.

  “You need to get out of another Talent Night?” he asked.

  “No, the prom.”

  “You mean Gavin asked you?”

  “He did,” I said, with a warm glow I knew he felt through the phone.

  “Congrats! Why don’t you want to go?”

  “Vegas is the same time as the prom,” I whined.

  “Didn’t this happen to you before at the Veins concert?”

  “Yes, but I was just around the corner from the club.”

  “Then blow off the prom.”

  “And Gavin?”

  “Invite him,” he advised. “Like anyone would rather go to Vegas than the prom.”

  “This is Sin City. I’m not playing in the Hamptons. Gavin comes from a prominent family. I don’t think anyone on his family tree ever missed a prom.”

  “I think Sarge is the bigger issue. She’s not going to let you go alone to Vegas with Gavin.”

  “Would you take me? I mean us?”

  “That would rule, girl. But I blew this month’s rent on a Phish concert last weekend. And why are you calling me from Chaplin’s?”

  “I needed to talk to you before I talked to Sarge. What do I do?”

  “Ask Gavin to go with you. He’ll be the coolest senior in Vegas.”

  “And Sarge?”

  “She’ll be the uncoolest senior,” he said, and hung up.

  I screamed in the car the whole two blocks to my house. Excited and petrified, I burst open our front door and found my parents on the sofa, Sarge sleeping and Dad watching TV.

  “You’ll never believe it! Jelly Bean was at the club! He saw my act and he wants me to emcee two of his shows in Vegas.”

  My parents were stunned and didn’t say a word.

  “Slow down,” my father finally said.

  “I’m not kidding. Jelly Bean—wants me to emcee for him in Vegas!”

  “Congratulations!” my dad exclaimed, getting up and hugging me.

  “Let me in!” Sarge said, running to me. “I want to hug the star!”

  “He liked your show?” Dad asked excitedly.

  “Apparently he loved her show!” Sarge exclaimed proudly. “Does this mean you’ll invite him over for dinner?”

  “He’s not coming to dinner! We’re going to Vegas!” I yelled, dancing around. “Me! Little Trixie Shapiro will be opening for the massively huge—and I’m not talking about his physique—Jelly Bean!”

  “My girl is going to be a Las Vegas emcee showgirl,” Sarge said, hugging me again.

  “I’m just afraid this is all a dream,” I said.

  “If it was a dream you’ll find your room neat as a pin,” Sarge teased.

  “No, that’s your dream!” I said, laughing.

  “So when’s the show?” Dad finally asked.

  “In two weeks! I’ll have to miss at least one day of school.”

  “School?” Sarge asked, changing her tone.

  “School, schmool!”

  “Your grades are slipping down the alphabet. I’m very happy for you, Trixie, but since your SAT scores were low, your time in school is very important.”

  “I’ll study in Vegas!”

  “I don’t know…,” Sarge said, hesitantly.

  “She’ll study in Vegas,” Dad said in my defense.

  “And I’ll miss the prom too,” I said. “It’s on the same weekend.”

  “Do we have to write you an excuse for that too?” Dad joked.

  “Prom? But Gavin will be so disappointed. And you already bought your dress!” Sarge reminded me.

  “I know, but millions of girls don’t go to their prom and they end up with jobs and families and lives.”

  “Just a dance?” Sarge repeated.

  “I know…what if I invited him?” I asked.

  “To Vegas? It’s not exactly an acceptable field trip, Trixie. And let’s get back to the school discussion—how do we explain this to your teacher?” Sarge worried.

  “I’ll get Jelly Bean to write me an excuse.”

  Dad changed the subject.

  “You’re not going to change your name, are you? You’ll keep ‘Shapiro,’ won’t you?” my dad asked.

  “Of course!”

  “I don’t mind if you change ‘Trixie.’”

  “But she was named for my aunt Tiffany!” my mother said.

  “Trixie Shapiro has a nice sound to it,” my father said dreamily.

  “I’m not changing my name, people!”

  “My little girl, I’m so proud of you,” Dad said, hugging me.

  “Congratulations!” my mom screamed, throwing her arms around us.

  I smiled a huge smile as I was sandwiched between them.

  “I have an in-service that Friday!” Sarge complained. “I’ll have to take a late flight!”

  “I can go to Vegas and meet you guys there,” I offered. “I’m too old to have a stage mother.”

  “But you’re not to old to have a stage father,” Dad declared.

  “You thought we’d let you go to Vegas with Gavin unchaperoned?” Sarge asked.

  “No. Then I’d really know this was all a dream.”

  I news-flashed Jazzy first thing the next morning and then raced over to Gavin’s house.

  “I have awesome news!” Gavin exclaimed, opening his bedroom door.

  “Me too!” I exclaimed.

  “You’ve also been accepted?” he asked. “Congratulations! This is totally amazing! Maybe sophomore year I can get an apartment and we can meet in my swinging pad between classes!”

  “Accepted? Uh…Congrats! I just—”

  He pulled me onto his bed and kissed me longingly. “I love you,” he said.

  Wait! Stop everything! Jelly Bean has just booked me for Las Vegas, and now Gavin Baldwin—the Gavin Baldwin—has said he loves me! Was I in the Twilight Zone?

  “What did you just say?” I asked, pulling him up, straddling his lap.

  “Well—,” he said, pulling at a thread on his bedspread.

  “Yes?” I asked, turning his face toward mine.

  “I already said it!”

  “But tell me again!” I exclaimed, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I want to make sure I heard you correctly.”

  “You heard me!”

  “I didn’t hear you!” I said.

  “I love you,” he whispered in my ear.

  “I didn’t hear you in
this ear,” I said, smiling, turning my head.

  “Come on already!”

  “I totally love you too. But I’ve always loved you.”

  I’d never said that to Gavin. In my thoughts, in my dreams. But it fell out of my mouth as naturally as if I’d said it to his face a thousand times.

  “I want us to celebrate, before my parents come home,” he said, running his fingers underneath the back of my shirt.

  “Do you have champagne?” I asked.

  “No, but I have something else,” he said, leaning back and pulling me with him.

  “Gavin!” I said, giggling like crazy as he tickled my belly.

  And for the afternoon, I forgot all about the senior prom, Vegas, and a star named Jelly Bean.

  “Before you know it, you’ll have your own sitcom,” Jazzy screamed at the Sunrise Coffee Shop at dinnertime. “Can I be the nosy neighbor? Please, please!”

  “Chill! I’m just emceeing. People aren’t coming to Vegas to see me.”

  “But they will! This month you’ll be hanging with the Jelly Man. Next month you’ll be on the Douglas Douglas Show. A mansion in L.A. for you and your true-blue best friend is so happening right now. I just can’t believe it’s the same night as the prom! What did Gavin say?”

  “He said he loved me.”

  “After you told him about Vegas?”

  “No, like right after he told me about Northwestern. He doesn’t know about Vegas.”

  “He doesn’t know about Vegas?”

  “I wanted to tell him. But he was so excited—I mean, happy!”

  “Man. Vegas is way farther than the Mosh Pit. How can you be two places at once this time? You’ll need the Concorde!”

  I laughed.

  “Don’t worry, I can think of something. But, really, who needs the prom when you can be hanging out with Adam Sandler and Ben Stiller. Don’t get me wrong, I think Gavin is hot, but when it comes down to it, how many films has he starred in?” said Jazzy.

  “Jazz! I’ve been in love with him for over two years and today he said he loved me. I’d do anything for him. Besides, I already have a plan. I’m going to ask Gavin to go with me.”

  “But I thought I was the one with the plans. Don’t outgrow me.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m pretty stellar!” she said, laughing. “This is so cool! Vegas is Sin City! They have Jacuzzis in the rooms! And people that perform marriages twenty-four hours a day. You could come back married.”

  “Thanks for the support. Even though I’m ecstatic about Vegas, I still wish this wasn’t happening on prom weekend. I’ll miss you, the dance of a lifetime, and our double dream dates.”

  “You get to go to Vegas! What more do you want?”

  “For Jelly Bean to host our prom.”

  THE INVITATION

  This time I wasn’t going to let Gavin distract me. I packed a picnic lunch complete with tiny cheeses, crackers, and sparkling grape juice. I hoped he wouldn’t be too disappointed about the prom, because this was a killer opportunity for us both. The two of us sharing Vegas, meeting Jelly Bean.

  I was flying my two-dollar kite high over Lake Michigan while Gavin lay on the rocks. The weather was perfect, the water splashing up against the rocks, the lake filled with billowing sailboats.

  “I should have gotten a plastic handle,” I wailed, trying to control the kite.

  “Calm down,” he said, tying the string to the picnic basket. “Picnics are supposed to be relaxing.”

  “I’m just excited! I have something to ask you and I’m bursting!” I exclaimed, sitting next to him on the rocks. “I wanted to ask you yesterday, but you distracted me—”

  “I believe there was mutual distracting going on,” he said.

  “Gavin!” I said, pulling away. “I’ll never get to ask you if you keep doing that.”

  “Okay,” he said, reluctantly sitting up. “So what’s up?”

  “Friday at Chaplin’s…who shows up at the beginning of my set but, none other than—Jelly Bean!”

  “You’re kidding! Jelly Bean? I’d kill to see him! How long was he there? Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Well, that’s what I want to ask you about,” I answered.

  “He wouldn’t get nervous if I watched,” he teased.

  “Shhh!” I said, placing my finger over his lips. “After the show, Jelly Bean asked me to fill in for his emcee for two shows in Vegas…. Unfortunately it’s the same weekend as the prom. So I’m asking you to come with me to Vegas!”

  Gavin wasn’t screaming like Jazzy did. He wasn’t jumping like Sarge and Dad. It was almost as if he didn’t understand.

  “Well?” I asked excitedly. “A lot to swallow, right?”

  “Wow—,” he said, with shocked eyes. “That’s…way cool,” he said, with a smile that almost seemed forced.

  “Unbelievable, really,” I said, grabbing his hand. “I still think I’m dreaming! Can you believe that something like this would happen to me—to us!”

  “Wow, Trix. This is great,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Congratulations.”

  I expected a kiss or a hug—not a hand squeeze.

  “So you’ll be emceeing like you do at Chaplin’s?” he asked. “Where you’ll introduce him and I’ll have to stand in the hallway?”

  “No! I want you there. In the back—but I want you there.”

  Gavin fingered the kite’s string as it soared higher in the sky.

  “But this is Vegas, Trix, not Chaplin’s. So now you’ll be traveling the country with Jelly Bean?” he asked, trying to process the info.

  “No, silly! It’s two nights only.”

  “Two nights now—six weeks when you arrive. Trixie, this is major! You have no idea where this could lead. He could introduce you to stars. He could take you to L.A.”

  “Jelly Bean? He can take me wherever he wants, baby!” I said, with a laugh. “But seriously, I’m lucky if he doesn’t fire me because I’ll be shaking so badly!”

  “I don’t know about this…,” Gavin said, playing with the kite string. “Vegas isn’t Chaplin’s, Trix. The guys that go there—they have money, smoke fat cigars, they can spot seventeen-year-old girls like a hunter spots a fox.”

  “You sound like my mother! Besides, you can be my bodyguard.”

  Gavin scratched his neck distractedly. “I guess I just expected we’d go to the prom.”

  “I know. I’ve waited for the prom for all my life. But Vegas—Jazzy says they have Jacuzzis in the rooms and waterfalls in the pools!”

  “We’ll be sharing a room?” he asked, surprised.

  “Well, actually you’ll be sharing a room with my dad.”

  I turned to my kite, which began circling out of control in the wind.

  “So you’ll go?” I asked.

  Gavin stared up at the kite. “I’ll have to think about it,” he said.

  “What’s there to think about?”

  “I already paid for tickets to the prom, my tux, and the deposit on the limo. I know Vegas is once in a lifetime…but…,” he began.

  “But what?”

  “I want to go to the prom,” he said, standing up.

  “I want to go too!” I said, following him.

  “No. I mean I’m going to the prom,” he said strongly. “And I want you to go too.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “I’m confused.”

  “I invited you first. You already said yes to me.”

  “What’s happening, Gavin?”

  Love seemed to rush out of him while terror filled me.

  “It’s not about the prom. Don’t you see? It’s about us,” he contested.

  “If I give this opportunity up,” I argued, “it could cost me my career.”

  “You could pursue it later. What about Northwestern?”

  “You sound like Sarge. I’d never ask you to give up being an architect. Guys never give up their careers for girls. Is this what you really want me to do,
Gavin?”

  “You have to make a decision,” he said firmly. “Jazzy isn’t here to sign you up for Talent Night. Janson isn’t here to force you to do Open Mike. Ben’s not pushing you into an amateur contest, or Jelly Bean and Las Vegas. And Sergeant isn’t here to tell you to give up all your current success for college. It’s your life. And you have to grow up and decide how the hell you want to live it.”

  I was stunned. I’d never seen Gavin so forceful. I couldn’t believe what he was asking me.

  “You’re asking me to choose?” I cried.

  My dreams were turning upside down.

  “I guess I am,” he said quietly.

  “You are!” I shouted. “You’re asking me to give up comedy! How can I make a choice?”

  He stared at me, waiting for my reply.

  “We’re talking about my soul, Gavin. This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

  “Are you talking about me…or comedy?” he asked, confused.

  “Both—I’m talking about my life. I don’t have time to daydream anymore. For the first time in my life, I feel alive! Life is happening to me. Don’t you see that?”

  “What do you want, Trixie?” he asked, frustrated.

  “I want you!” I said, hugging him, tears streaming down my face. I could feel his soft cotton shirt bunch up in my hands, my fingertips touching his warm back. I couldn’t let go. “For two years I’ve watched you walk down the halls, envied the lockers you leaned against. I knew that you ate turkey sandwiches for lunch, that you smelled of Obsession as you sauntered by. And now I know how you kiss, touch, feel…. How could I choose anything but you?”

  And I remembered my first laugh in my living room, and how much I’d accomplished since that moment.

  He caressed my hair and kissed the top of my head. I looked up at him, his dreamy lips, his sparkling blue eyes, and I said, “But I’m going to Vegas.”

  The words hit him like a bolt of lightning. The girl he held in his arms had made a choice. The choice wasn’t him.

  Gavin backed away. Rage burned in his eyes.

  He picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

  “Gavin…please—”

  “Send me a postcard,” he called in a huff as he walked away.

  “I already know what it’ll say,” I called, tears flooding my eyes. “Wish you were here….”