If Ever(76)
*
Wednesday morning while Ryan and I are playing Minecraft, Tom rushes about trying to get out the door for another meeting.
"Bugger, I'm going to be late!" he says, rifling through papers and files stuffing them in his backpack. Finally set, he kisses me quick and dashes out in a whoosh of energy.
“I don’t understand why he always gets so worked up for a meeting.”
“He doesn’t have a meeting,” Ryan says.
“He doesn’t?”
“He’s got an audition.”
I stare at the closed apartment door. “How do you know?”
“Well.” Ryan sets down his controller and drinks his water. “First off, he’s got his backpack and was freaking out to make sure he had everything he might need, like sides, score, head shots, that sort of thing. He’s also wearing his navy polo, dark jeans, and brown Topsiders. He always wears that to auditions.”
“Why?”
“Why does he do half the things he does? He’s superstitious and more than a little OCD.”
“He is?”
He laughs. “You haven’t noticed?”
I guess I haven’t paid attention. “He eats Fruit Loops every morning.”
“And chases them with a spinach smoothie. He always goes to the gym on odd days and takes a run on even days. Have you seen his pre-show routine?”
I shake my head.
“You should go along sometime and watch. He does everything in a specific order. He checks in with the sound guys and talks about how his voice is feeling, drops by the orchestra to see who’s in the pit, and he always takes a couple minutes to sit in a different seat in the theatre to remind himself of the audience perspective.”
I’ve never been to the theatre before the show. Only after. Now that Ryan mentions it, I see that Tom does keep a really structured schedule.
“I’d say it’s all a waste of time, but it sure as hell works for him. He’s at the top of his game. I, on the other hand, haven’t been able to book more than Off Off Broadway cabaret.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s a brutal industry. I remember taking an acting workshop the summer after high school. A tony winner was leading it. He said if there’s anything else we might possibly want to do, other than show biz, to do it. Broadway is an impossible dream. Only the most talented performers who are extremely disciplined have a shot. And then they have to be very lucky.”
Deep down I guess I knew that, but spending so much time with Tom and going to his shows makes his life seem almost commonplace. It also makes me wonder again why such a successful guy is attracted to me. I turn back to Ryan. “But why is he auditioning if he has a job?”
Ryan considers me, then picks his controller back up. “That you’ll have to ask him.”
*
The audition is a final call back for a new show. I’ve been though all the paces, but this time the executive producers, director, writer, choreographer and stage manager are all here. This is my final chance to woo them and hope I’m the guy they trust with their new musical. I shake off my nerves and get my head in the game. I’m fully warmed up, and I’ve memorized the sides so that I know them like the alphabet.
I wait in the hall with two young women up for the lead, both look familiar, and Kyle Baccus, a guy I’ve competed with for several parts over the years. He’s a formidable talent, yet I won out the last part for Crossing Lines. I nod hello to the others and take a chair off to the side to calm my mind. Kyle is called next. I pop in my ear buds and crank the music so I don’t have to hear his audition and can focus on slow steady breathing.
After an eternity, my name is called and my heart starts pumping and my nerves jump off the charts despite my best efforts. I enter the sterile audition room. There’s a row of two tables with some of the biggest names in Broadway sitting behind them. A couple people I know, a couple I only know by reputation. I offer a friendly nod and quick hello, sure to catch their eyes, then hand my music to the accompanist and discuss tempo.
I take my place on the tape mark and the music begins. Once I start singing, I lose myself in the character and sing the hell out of the two songs they provided and actually enjoy myself. The material is smart and would be a blast to sing eight times a week. Afterward I perform a scene with their reader, in an American accent, and put everything I have into the quirky character. The director leans back in his chair and watches intently, the choreographer laughs at the perfect spot, but the producer looks bored. When I’m finished I get a thanks for coming in. We’ll let you know, and I’m done.
Stepping into the empty hallway, I blow out my breath and try to come down from the high. I’ve given them my best, now I wait, the fate of my future in their hands. Damn, I want this show, but I try to push those thoughts away. I stuff my papers into my backpack and slip on my coat.
If I land this job, I could be opening another show as the lead and relax in the security a steady job brings. If I don’t, well, I’ll keep taking every audition my agent deems suitable.
I push out the front door and text Chelsea that I’m able to meet early for the English tea I promised her. She’s the perfect distraction to keep me from obsessing over the final callback.