Broadway Babe

  Broadway Babe

  By J. C. Long

  Tate O’Connor has worked hard to realize his dream of dancing on Broadway, and it’s about to pay off with a premier in his first show. He doesn’t expect the distraction of sharing the stage with his celebrity crush: Broadway superstar Mike Chang. Drama ensues both onstage and off as Tate and Mike work closely and realize there could be something between them. However, there are those who don’t think an up-and-coming dancer is good enough for someone with Mike’s talent and fame, and rumors and misunderstandings might lead to broken hearts if Tate and Mike can’t work through their confusion and insecurity.

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  SCENE I

  SCENE II

  SCENE III

  SCENE IV

  SCENE V

  SCENE VI

  SCENE VII

  SCENE VIII

  SCENE IX

  SCENE X

  SCENE XI

  SCENE XII

  About the Author

  By J. C. Long

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  This book is for my precious grandmother, who didn’t get to live to see it come out. I love you so much, Memaw!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  FIRST AND foremost I want to extend my deepest gratitude to the people who taught me the love of dance and drama, Ms. Kathy and Ms. Watson. My world would be much less magical if it weren’t for you two. Also, the biggest of thanks to my Korea family, Darian, Maria, and Tammy. Your friendship is one of my greatest joys. And last, but certainly not least, to Hiro, who realized that I’m a bit mad (aren’t all authors?) and loves me anyway.

  SCENE I

  IF SOMEONE had told me that I, Tate O’Connor, would be standing in front of the doors of a rehearsal studio in the middle of the afternoon, ready to step inside and into my very first rehearsal for my very first Broadway show, I would not have believed it.

  And yet here I was.

  Like so many people had before me, not caring that it was so utterly cliché, I left my hometown of Memphis, Tennessee, for the Big Apple, chasing my hopes and dreams. Like what seemed like millions of other people, I came to New York to get on Broadway. I didn’t have what it took, I thought, but I damn well had to try. I’d taken dance and voice lessons since I was seven years old, all leading up to this day.

  I’d been in New York for nearly a year, attending auditions day after day while working night after night for my best friend Lucy’s aunt in her diner, living in a loft she was subletting to me while Lucy was studying abroad. Trial and error, trial and error, it had all been one up-and-down ride, but eventually I’d gotten my big break.

  I was going to be appearing on stage in a new show by one of the hot up-and-coming composer-and-lyricist duos out there, a risqué piece about love, sex, and identity. I was okay with that—it was a great step forward just getting onto a stage, and I knew many people who had been there longer than I who hadn’t yet landed a callback, much less an ensemble role.

  I took a deep breath and walked into the studio. Just inside the doors was a sign on a board directing cast members to the main dance room. Heart racing, I followed the sound of voices until I stepped inside. Like most dance studios, mirrors lined one wall, but it was much larger than the studios I had been in before. There were about twenty other guys and girls there, all dressed similarly to me in sweats and T-shirts or tank tops. I had elected a T-shirt. Though I had a dancer’s well-toned body, I wasn’t comfortable with it enough to just flash it around.

  Eyes turned to me as I came in. I could feel them sizing me up. I didn’t see anyone I knew in there. Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, I moved to an empty space and started my warm-ups.

  “This your first Broadway show?” a short, pixie-esque girl asked me, looking up at me with big doe eyes from where she was stretching on the floor.

  I was just under six foot, and I would have guessed her to be roughly five even. She looked tiny down there on the floor, like a doll.

  I nodded, stretching my arms first.

  “I could tell. You had the ‘What the hell have I walked into?’ look on your face. I’m Cally.”

  “I’m Tate.”

  “Nice to meet you. Choreographer should be here any minute now. I hear she’s a real hardass, got a reputation for running strict dance rehearsals. Stay on your toes—so to speak.” Cally giggled at her own pun.

  I grinned. I like this girl, I decided.

  I sat down next to Cally and bent at the waist to touch my toes, working hard to maintain the flexibility that was so important to my profession. “I take it this isn’t your first?”

  She gave me a look of exaggerated dismay. “That’s not the kind of question you ask a girl you just met, you know.”

  Again she giggled; she was a girl who amused herself. At least someone finds her funny.

  “No, this is my third. I was a dancer in the however-millionth revival of Anything Goes. My second show might not even count… it was the musical adaptation of Fight Club.” She winced, like she was in pain just thinking about it.

  I could understand why. “Didn’t that show close before previews were even over?”

  She nodded, still wincing.

  “At least you made it to the stage,” I comforted. I meant it too. She’d accomplished what plenty of others had not: survived the audition process and made it into performances. “Not every show is going to be a success, but you got another notch on your résumé.”

  “I know that academically,” she replied. “It’s just hard to remember when I come across reviews for it online and such. ‘Worst Broadway show since Starlight Express,’ ‘A dark day for Broadway,’ ‘Nonsensical, trite, filled with unlikeable characters and terrible songs.’ And those were the good ones.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Got them memorized, have you?”

  “They’re burned into my brain,” she said solemnly. “I’m pretty sure not a single person clapped at the end of the first act of our first show, and half the audience didn’t even come back for act two.”

  From what I’d read online about the show, that didn’t surprise me.

  “I should have known it was going to be a bust,” Cally said as she finished her stretches. “I mean, the finale is titled ‘We’re All Tyler.’”

  I finished stretching and leaned back on my elbows where I sat, looking at the others that were there with us. We were all young, but then again the show’s casting called for a lot of young actors. Every single person in the room was a dancer. This wasn’t community theatre, where they filled the ranks with people who could handle easy steps in order to come up with a respectably sized dance group. I was in the presence of people who were all dedicated to the same craft. My chest swelled with pride at the knowledge that I was part of this group, part of this magical profession. I was amongst the best of my peers, and I was exhilarated.

  Just by looking around I could spot the few guys and girls who were first-timers like me. They were each busy stretching, attempting to hide their nerves behind placid faces, but they weren’t succeeding. Is that how I look right now? More than likely, since Cally knew me for a first-timer as soon as she set her eyes on me.

  “Don’t worry,” Cally said, reaching over to slap my calf good-naturedly. “You’ll get used to it. I know it seems overwhelming at first, but if they cast you, you can handle it. Just take it as it comes and don’t get too in your head.”

  I smiled at her gratefully. I was glad she reached out to me when she saw me there, uncertain and overwhelmed. It meant a lot to make a connection there at the beginning and with such ease. I was sometimes an awkward person, finding myself stuck up in my head when it came
to talking to new people. By reaching out to me first, Cally prevented me from getting awkward and laid the foundation for the potential friendship between us.

  “Tell me about this choreographer,” I said.

  She shook her head firmly.

  “What? Why not?”

  “I’m not sure what to tell you. I only know her by reputation. Like I said before, she’s known as a no-nonsense hardass, but she’s supposed to be a brilliant choreographer. I’m actually looking forward to meeting her.”

  I let out a frustrated sigh. Normally this wouldn’t even be a concern, since we should have met the choreographer at auditions, or at least callbacks. There were special circumstances involved, though, this time. Apparently the choreographer was out of the country, where she’d been working with an international touring show, and couldn’t make it back in time for auditions. For that reason all our auditions were with the director and assistant choreographer only, with the assistant choreographer selecting callbacks, which were recorded on a digital camera and submitted to the choreographer, who made final selections.

  It was nerve-racking, to say the least, not knowing what we were going to be dealing with. Thankfully we didn’t have long to wait to find out. A few minutes later the doors opened and we were joined by a woman who looked to be in her forties but was in her fifties. She was thin, but her muscles were obviously strong. Her face was narrow and regal, her hair ear-length and sporting the sort of frizz that could only be natural.

  “All right, everyone, hello. I’m Glinnis Hall, and I will be your choreographer. I look forward to working with you, especially if you can keep up. We’ve got a lot to do, so everyone up and let’s get to it.”

  SCENE II

  GLINNIS LIVED up to her reputation. The music was complex and syncopated, the dance moves complex, thrown at us rapid-fire. Glinnis met any mistake with harsh words and a command to repeat the sequence. It was some of the hardest dancing I had ever done. Despite the rigors of the rehearsal, I loved it. I relished the challenge, enjoyed pushing my body to its limits.

  Not to mention that the choreography was some of the best I’d ever seen. Glinnis Hall was a genius.

  When break came at last, I was tired and dripping sweat.

  “Do you think all the numbers will be like this?” I asked Cally. I twisted the cap off my water bottle and drank deeply.

  “Depends,” Cally said. “The big group numbers will all be around the same. But if you’re a featured dancer for the three smaller numbers, those will probably be harder.”

  I let out a groan, and she laughed.

  “That’s what you get for being a talented dancer.”

  “That’ll teach me to be good at something.” I recapped the water. “Which way is the bathroom?”

  Cally pointed. “Down that hall and to the right.”

  I followed her instructions, stepping into the bathroom and splashing cold water on my face before making my way to a urinal. Business done and hands washed, I went back out, ready to return to the dance room. The muffled sound of a piano and a singing voice stopped me. The sound drew me forward like a siren’s song. Instead of turning back left, I went straight until I came to a closed door with a small rectangular window set in it that reminded me of doors in a high school.

  Inside the room, a man I recognized as the music director, a portly, balding man, sat at a piano, fingers dancing through the difficult score of a song. I didn’t pay him a second glance as soon as the singer caught my eye.

  I recognized him immediately: Mike Chang, one of the hottest new stars of Broadway. He’d had several roles already, his golden voice and perfect body earning him the title Broadway’s Babe and a legion of adoring fans. He stood on the other side of the piano, a music stand before him. His right foot was tapping to the music, his handsome Asian features full of expression as he belted out the melody of the song. He was lost in the music, feeling the song in the way that only truly passionate singers could. Oh, anyone could sing, but to put your entire soul into a song was a rare talent. I felt a little guilty, as if I were peeping in on an intimate and personal moment, but I found I could not look away.

  “There you are!” Cally cried, drawing me out of my reverie. She came up beside me and grabbed my arm, tugging. “Rehearsal is about to start again—let’s go. Trust me. You do not want to be late.”

  I reluctantly tore myself away from the door. “I didn’t know Mike Chang was in this show.”

  Cally and I made our way back to the rehearsal room.

  “I heard he was only cast three days ago. It was a big competition between him and some other guy.”

  “I can’t imagine some other guy being any real competition for him,” I commented without thinking.

  “Uh-oh,” Cally cooed, making me instantly regret my words. “Someone has a crush!”

  “No I don’t!” My reddening ears betrayed my lie, though. “Let’s just get to rehearsal.”

  ONCE REHEARSAL was finished, I hurried to the apartment I shared with Aunt Georgina, who was still out at the diner. I normally would have been there with her, but since rehearsals started I’d had to cut down on my hours helping her out. I felt bad about it, but she waved away my guilty apologies. She would always follow this dismissal up by saying, “You didn’t come to New York to work in my diner, Tate O’Connor.”

  It was an early night, so I was hoping I would be able to get ahold of Lucy in Greece, where she was studying. She was an art history major, which she always said was an excuse to go abroad and party in Greece in the future. She’d been there for five months now, and I missed her terribly.

  It was only around two in the morning in Greece, so I was fairly certain I could catch her up, if I was quick. I hopped on to the computer and signed into my Skype account. It showed her online—but it always did, so that was no real indication. I sent her a tentative message, staring at the screen just hoping to see Lucy is typing a message appear over my text box.

  It must have been a miracle, because less than a minute later Lucy replied, saying she was free to Skype. I quickly hit the camera call button. I could not hide the massive grin on my face when the call connected and Lucy’s face appeared on my screen, smiling and waving.

  “You look tan,” I commented immediately. “Or is that just the glow of the screen?”

  “Pretty sure it’s just the screen,” Lucy agreed, reaching up and patting her cheeks. “Despite my endless days at the beach, I remain boringly pale.”

  I grinned. “I’m pretty sure boring is a word that has never been used to describe you.”

  “I’m boring compared to some of my Greek friends. They’re out drinking literally every night. I don’t know how I can keep up.”

  “I’m sure you’re managing,” I said. I knew full well just how capable Lucy was when it came to partying. I had no doubt in my mind that she made the Greeks proud.

  Lucy laughed before a look came across her face. “Wait, it’s Saturday morning here, so… it’s Friday there! Your first rehearsal, right?”

  I nodded, and she let out a little squeal of excitement, settling down farther into the comfy chair she was sitting in. I couldn’t see much of the place behind her, but from the pictures I had seen on Facebook, the flat she was staying in in Greece was a beautiful place, every bit what one would imagine when picturing living life in Greece.

  “So, tell me all about it!”

  I told her all about Cally, Glinnis, and the dance rehearsal, how hard the choreography was, and how excited I was about everything after hearing the music for the show.

  “That’s really great! I’m happy you’re enjoying so far.”

  I shrugged a bit. “It’s only really been one day. We’ll see what happens come my first music rehearsal.”

  “So, are there any hot male dancers?”

  “There are some,” I admitted, thinking of some of my fellow dancers. They all had the bodies that came with years of dancing, and they were definitely flexible. My thoughts only lingered on
them for a moment, though, before I moved on to the real news I wanted to share with Lucy. “The dancers don’t matter, though. I’ve got something even better.”

  Lucy’s eyes widened in anticipation. “Oh? Do tell!”

  I enjoyed her anticipation and let her stew in her curiosity for a moment, quietly typing into Google search for a picture of my handsome costar. “You’ll never guess who is actually starring in the show,” I said, pasting the link into the chat box and sending it to her. “Have a look.”

  I heard Lucy’s mouse click, and then she gasped.

  “You’re not fucking serious! Mike Chang is going to be in that show? You’re going to be on stage with Mike Goddamn Chang?” She groaned in jealousy. “How did you get so lucky, Tate?”

  “Karma is rewarding me for being a good person, I guess.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “What? You’re like, a terrible human being. There’s got to be something else.” She made a pouty face. “Everything good always happens to you.”

  I snorted. “Says the girl who is currently living and partying it up in Greece.”

  “I don’t see your point,” she replied cheekily. “I’m merely getting what I deserve, being absolutely perfect in every way.”

  I didn’t respond to that comment. I was far too used to her antics to rise to such easy bait. Knowing this, Lucy carried on.

  “So tell me all about it. What is he like? Is he as beautiful in person as he is in his pictures?”

  I nodded vigorously. “Maybe more. Though I did only see him through a door today. He was in a music rehearsal while I was dancing. I saw him during a break.”

  “At least you’ll have something nice to look at during those long tech rehearsals.” Lucy stretched, yawning.

  “Do you want to go to sleep?” I asked her, hoping I wasn’t keeping her up when she was tired.

  “It’s Saturday,” she said dismissively. “I’m not doing anything until like midnight. Don’t worry. So, are you going to try to cozy up to the delectable Mr. Chang?”