Learning (15 page)

B
AILEY WAS DANCING SO HARD SHE COULD FEEL THE SWEAT ON
her back. It was the last number of the show, the last performance of June, and as she finished the final lines of the song, she felt a sense of elation well up within her. She was doing this! Finally … after two months she was keeping up.

The number ended and the cast took their bows. Bailey tried to sense whether any of her castmates noticed the difference. Two guys who took curtain call with her smiled in her direction, a little bigger than usual. Or maybe it was her imagination. As they stepped off stage, one of them, Gerald Gear, touched her elbow.

“Ella, … great work tonight.” Gerald’s expression held the familiar arrogance despite his smile. “You looked like … like you belonged.”

Ella.
Her character name in the movie
Unlocked.
The compliment went down like dry bread, but Bailey smiled in return. Gerald’s buddy Stefano was watching, and she didn’t want to give either of them a reason to see her as easily offended. “Thanks.” She couldn’t let the hurt show, not now.

Gerald and Stefano walked off together without another backward glance at Bailey. A sigh rattled from her and took with it all the good she’d been feeling about her performance. What would she have to do to be accepted by the cast, to make them see she wasn’t here only because of her movie credit? She grabbed a towel from her bag and wiped her neck. She was about to change out of her costume when she heard someone come up behind her.

“Bailey.”

The voice belonged to Francesca. Bailey turned in a hurry, surprised. The director rarely sought them out after a show. “Yes?”

“Get dressed and then find me in my office.” Her smile was flat. “We need to talk.”

Bailey’s throat went dry, and her heart flipped into an unfamiliar rhythm. “Yes, ma’am.” She turned back to her bag but she couldn’t help but wonder. How many of the girls in the dressing room had heard Francesca’s request? They had to be thinking the same thing she was: That somehow — even on a night when she thought she’d nailed it — she’d done something wrong. Her performance hadn’t measured up to the others.

She dressed and put her costume on the appropriate hanger. As she did, the dressing room fell quiet. The girls didn’t talk to her or to each other, which left an awkward silence thick over the room. Bailey tried to stay brave.
Dear Lord, I don’t know what I did wrong, but there must be something. Help me … give me courage to hear whatever Francesca has to tell me. Please, God.

Bailey gathered her things, left the dressing room, and headed for Francesca’s office. Along the way she thought about taking a minute to pray longer, to check her Bible app on her phone for a verse that would give her strength. But there wasn’t time. Instead she prayed once more, asking God to be with her, and like that, she was knocking at the director’s door.

Francesca waved her inside. “Have a seat.” Again her smile felt more polite than purposeful.

Bailey’s hair was still damp from the show, and now that she was here — face-to-face with her director in the air-conditioned office — she felt a chill run from her neck down her body. She resisted the urge to shiver. “You … wanted to talk?”

“Yes.” Francesca folded her hands and planted her elbows on the desk in front of her. She leveled her gaze at Bailey and held it for a few long seconds. “You were very good tonight.”

Relief washed over Bailey, but she didn’t let it show. She was a professional. She was supposed to be good. “Thank you.”

Francesca breathed out, and the sound was filled with ambiguity. “I have to be honest. Until this week, I was planning to let you go this Friday.” Disappointment colored in the lines around her eyes. “I expected so much more from you, Bailey Flanigan. But maybe you’re too young. Most of our cast is in their midtwenties or older.”

Bailey heard the sound of her heartbeat in her eardrums. Francesca expected more? And she seemed too young for the job? How was this happening? If the director hadn’t been happy with her, why hadn’t she said something sooner? She squirmed in her seat, not sure what to say. Sure Francesca had been tough during rehearsals, sometimes singling her out to work harder on a certain move or sing the words of a song more clearly. But she’d never led Bailey to believe she wasn’t making the grade, that her job in the
Hairspray
cast was in jeopardy.

The director didn’t wait for Bailey’s response. “You must know that we didn’t hire you only because you could dance and sing. Your name, your involvement in the movie
Unlocked
— all made us believe you could fill seats.” She made a noncommittal face and tilted her head slowly from side to side like she was weighing the reality. “It’s possible. Our numbers are up a few percentage points. But not like we expected.”

The news hit Bailey like successive bricks, each one bigger than the last. She had been on the verge of being let go? And only her performances this week saved her? Even at that, the seats weren’t as full as they needed to be, so what was this meeting for? The chills from earlier were gone. Instead heat flooded her cheeks. Worst of all the grumblings she’d heard from the cast were true. She’d been brought in because of
Unlocked.
She fought against a rush of anger. The director could’ve told her. At least then she wouldn’t have been under some delusion that she’d earned her
way. “I’m sorry.” Humiliation dimmed her voice. She still felt like she was asleep, stuck in some nightmare. “I didn’t know.”

Francesca waved her hand around, like the entire situation frustrated her. “That’s my fault.” Another loud breath. “I’ve tried to bring your stage abilities to another level in practice. But, well, until this week I wasn’t seeing it.” She lowered her hands and picked up a document on her desk. “You signed a year-long contract, but frankly … we might not be in business a year from now. And as you know,” she gave Bailey a pointed look, “your contract can be cancelled if you’re not getting the job done.”

“Yes, ma’am.”
So what about today?
She wanted to ask. Was her position on the cast sure? At least for another few weeks if not for the remainder of her contract? A year felt like a long time in light of Francesca’s talk. Bailey tried to look calm.
Be professional,
she told herself.
Stay professional.
But she felt like running or crying or calling home and booking the next flight back to Indianapolis. She was doing her best, and that hadn’t been good enough. No wonder she’d doubted her abilities.

A handful of seconds passed, and Francesca sat back and folded her arms in front of her. “I want you to go home for the holiday weekend. Spend the Fourth with your family or friends. And while you’re there I want you to think about whether or not you belong here.” Her words came sharp and fast like automatic gunfire. “Whether you want to belong here.”

“I do.” Bailey couldn’t stop herself. She sat up straighter, her shock and defeat forgotten for the moment. “I mean, I do want to be here.” Now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop herself. “I’ll work hard. I know what to do now, and I’ll keep doing it better. I promise.”

Francesca’s expression didn’t change. “You’ll have to prove that. After you take a few days off.” She went on to explain that the cast would use on-call dancers to fill her spot. “Think about how hard you’ll have to work. Don’t come back unless you’re
ready to give me everything you have, Bailey. Everything.” She paused, sizing up Bailey the way a principal might look over a delinquent student. “I believed in you. But the only reason you’re still on this cast is because of your performances this week. They were better.” The director angled her head and thought for a few seconds. As if she was possibly doubting her earlier assessment and maybe Bailey wasn’t actually better. But the moment passed and she continued. “When you return … if you return … I want much more from you.” She exhaled, looking suddenly exhausted by the entire situation. She offered a tired smile that wasn’t quite sympathetic. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bailey remembered the warning from Tim’s girlfriend: Francesca was tough. But Bailey had no idea how tough until today. She refused the tears stinging the corners of her eyes. “I’ll take the break, and I’ll be stronger when I come back. I will.”

“Very well.” Francesca stood and opened her office door. “I will reevaluate again after the Fourth. Oh, and another thing.” Her smile dissolved. “You aren’t fitting in well with the rest of the
Hairspray
family. A few of them have talked to me about it.” Her expression said she believed them. “They get the sense you’re judging them.”

“No, ma’am.” Bailey stood and tried to keep her balance. “I care about them. All of them.” She felt light-headed and dizzy, the reality of her shaky place on the cast still making its way to a place in her mind where she could fully grasp it.

“Maybe show that then.”

Bailey could hardly believe what she was hearing. She felt embarrassed and humiliated, unsure of how she’d let the director down or why people thought she was judging them, and most of all why no one had told her this to her face before. As she walked out, Bailey looked around, but this part of the backstage was empty. How many of the cast had seen her walk into Francesca’s
office? They probably all knew this was coming — they knew even though she didn’t. Because they were professionals and along with Francesca they must have seen the lack of experience in Bailey.

Her heart slipped another notch. No wonder some of her castmates whispered about her.

When she was on the other side of Francesca’s office door, another thought hit her. She’d have to call home and tell her parents now, tell them that she wasn’t making it on Broadway. That basically she had one chance left. The tears she fought earlier were back, and she closed her eyes to stop them.
I didn’t see this coming, God … I really thought … I thought this was where You wanted me, but now …
She couldn’t think about it. Not here. She pushed everything from her mind but the one detail that mattered. She needed to get out of here. No way she wanted to face anyone from the cast now.

She gathered her things and called the car service at her apartment building. Her ride would be there in five minutes. As she hung up, again the situation clouded her heart. She was practically failing at the one thing she’d felt driven to do, the one dream she felt sure God had given her. Bailey held her breath for a moment, drawing on a strength that wasn’t her own. Whether she was alone in the building or not, she couldn’t break down here. Francesca might see her, and then she’d know for sure Bailey wasn’t ready for Broadway.

She turned the corner to the brick hallway that led to the stage door, but what she saw made her stop short. Chrissy was a dozen yards away, bent over and leaning against the wall. She looked pale, like she was about to pass out.

“Chrissy?” Bailey hurried closer and set her things down. She put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She straightened and ran her hand through her hair. “Just tired … long night.”

Francesca’s words rang in Bailey’s heart and mind. If she
cared for the cast, she should show them. Bailey moved so she was directly in front of Chrissy. She put her hands on her shoulders and looked straight at her. “You need a doctor …”

“I don’t.” Again she looked weak, like she might not make it to the door. She tried to smile at Bailey but it fell short. Like she couldn’t muster up the energy. “I was up late. That’s all.”

Bailey searched desperately through her options. Chrissy wasn’t telling the truth; that much was clear. She looked too thin and beyond tired. Makeup could hide the dark circles under her eyes on stage. But now, after a full show, there was no hiding the signs. “You’re not okay.” Bailey kept her tone gentle, but she hoped her urgency showed in her expression.

“I am.” She drew in a deep breath and worked hard to shake off the struggle. “Some days are just harder than others.”

A uselessness came over Bailey. Chrissy wasn’t the only one of her castmates in trouble. A number of them were into pills and smoking pot. Whatever it took to relax after a performance, or stay thin enough to fit in the costumes. Bailey was young, Francesca had pointed that out. But she couldn’t stand by and watch Chrissy hurt herself by not eating. She reached into her bag and pulled out a protein bar. “Here,” she handed it to her friend. “Maybe if you ate something … you’d have more energy.”

“I … I already ate.” Chrissy stared at the cement floor for a long moment and then looked right at Bailey.

In that single instant Bailey could feel that they shared a tragic, terrible knowing. The fact that Chrissy wasn’t going to eat, and the sad reality that Bailey could do nothing about it. “I know, Chrissy … what you’re dealing with. You can’t hide it.” Bailey kept her voice soft, as unthreatening as possible. “Let me call someone. There are people who can —”

“Listen.” Chrissy’s tone was just short of angry, and her eyes shone with a sudden intensity. “I’m getting help, okay? I told you,” she seemed to work to bring her voice back in check, “I’m fine.”

Chrissy gathered her things, and though she walked more slowly than usual, the moment of exhaustion seemed to have passed. Bailey kept at her pace, and when they reached the door she saw her ride waiting for her. “Come on.” She motioned to the car. “We’ll drop you off.”

Her friend lived a few blocks away in a shared flat, but usually she walked with a group of actresses. Tonight everyone else had gone ahead. Chrissy hesitated, as if maybe she didn’t want even five more minutes of prodding from Bailey. But after a few seconds she shrugged and allowed a partial smile. “Okay. Thanks.”

Before the driver let Chrissy out, Bailey made one last attempt. “I’ll pray for you.” Bailey watched her friend’s eyes, but she kept them turned away. “If you’re in trouble, Chrissy … I’m here.”

Chrissy nodded slowly and lifted her face to Bailey just briefly. “Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

And with that she stepped out and hurried off. She looks stronger now, Bailey told herself. And if she was being honest, then Chrissy was already getting help. Still, Bailey wished there was something else she could do. The ride back to the apartment was quick, and the Kellers were asleep by the time she crept inside. When she reached her room and shut the door, she grabbed her journal.