Page 95 of Holiday Star
I flush and glance sideways, picturing all of those sad and ugly words.Death, anxiety, fear, depression, abandoned, unworthy.
“You may not be ready to hear this from me.” Caleb’s stormy gaze pins me in place, but then it softens. More gently, he says, “I understand that you see those things in yourself, but I need to tell you whoIsee. You are the most strong, brave, smart, beautiful, lovable person I’ve ever met. You deserve the best of everything, and I couldn’t walk away until you knew.”
I let his voice reach me, sink into me like a stone. To ground me for the next time I’m uncertain or insecure. I’ll replay his words in those moments of weakness, like a record. Use that music to soothe my soul.
63
I’m worried about taking Caleb to a bar,” I whisper to Alvina in the back seat of the taxi. “Is it a stupid idea? To take a recovering alcoholic to a place where the main thing they serve is alcohol?”
She has rimmed her eyes in black, making them appear even bigger than usual. The wave in her hair gleams ebony under the shifting streetlights. “Did he say anything about it when you told him where we were going?”
“No. He’s coming straight from rehearsal, so he just said he’d meet us there.”
Caleb’s growing more anxious about performing in the Broadway musical. After some thought, I had come up with tonight’s excursion as a way to ease his fears. I clasp my hands together in my lap and look out the window, wondering if this is a bad decision.
It’s past eleven at night, and the streets are teeming with people. Twenty- and thirty-year-olds hop from one bar to another in the trendy meat-packing district. A warm late spring breeze ruffles the hair and clothing of the crowd, who wait in long lines outside the most popular clubs.
I stifle a yawn, tired from my ER shift earlier today. It always amazes me to see all these people out at night. I’m usually so exhausted that I fall into bed as soon as I get home. I forget that there’s a huge part of the population out here living normal lives where they go out with friends and stay up late. They aren’t worried about working twenty-four–hour shifts the next day. They aren’t worried that fatigue could cause them to make a mistake at work, a mistake with deadly consequences. Sometimes, I envy them.
The taxicab makes a sharp turn to the left. I wobble in my seat, trying not to fall over into Alvina. A pine-tree–shaped air freshener hanging from the driver’s rear-view mirror sways with the motion. Within minutes, we pull up to the neon-lit bar with its red-painted door. A bouncer dressed all in black checks our IDs, and we’re in.
I blink, my eyes adjusting to the shadowy interior. With my hand on Alvina’s shoulder, I shout into her ear, “Wayne said he’s holding a table for us in the back.”
Rising onto my toes, I search through the crowd until I find the thin-faced reporter tucked into the corner of the room. A cone-shaped light hangs low over the table, casting a focused yellow glow on my enemy turned friend.
“There he is!” I yell over the loud singing and point. I lead the way, winding through the throng that clusters by the bar, with Alvina trailing behind me.
Wayne half-stands when we reach him. He lets out a grunt of surprise as I throw my arms around his scrawny frame to give him a brief hug. “I haven’t seen you in forever,” I yell, grinning as the singer on the stage hits an off-key note.
Alvina comes to stand beside me. “Alvina, this is Wayne. Wayne, Alvina,” I introduce them, my gaze bouncing from one to the other.
Wayne’s stare travels appreciatively over Alvina. “Well, hello there,” he drawls with an expression that can only be described as lecherous.
Alvina narrows her eyes at him. “Not happening,” she snips, and his face falls.
I hide my snort of laughter behind my hand.
A husky voice speaks from my left, saying, “What’s a pretty lady like you doing in a place like this?”
I whip around, ready to reject whoever is hitting on me, but freeze when I see a pair of deep aqua eyes. “Caleb!” My heart does a triple beat at the sight of him. “I barely recognized you.”
Temporary dye has transformed Caleb’s hair from golden into a dark auburn hue. His nose prosthesis is back in place. “I know.” He runs a hand lightly over the top of his head. “Maren did a pretty great job, didn’t she?” he says, referring to the make-up artist at the theater who had helped him get ready tonight.
I have a flashback to when I first suggested this idea. I had told Caleb I thought he should use his disguise. I said, “What do you think? How about being ‘not Caleb’ again?”
It had broken my heart when he had sighed and dropped his head. He had answered, “Sometimes being not Caleb sounds really good to me.”
I shake off the memory to refocus on the bar and the man before me. “You’re right. Maren really came through.” I touch his hair and look at my fingers to see if the dye rubs off. It doesn’t. “Just hope you can wash that out before you go back to rehearsal tomorrow. Your director might have a heart attack if he sees you. He hired a blond Caleb Lawson, not a redhead.”
Caleb places his index finger lightly against my lips, his touch sending a tendril of desire spiraling through me. “Shh. No using my real name, remember?” He presses in close, our chests brushing together in the crowded bar. My breath catches from that simple friction. A dart of longing hits when his gaze drops to linger on my mouth.
“You said tonight was about practicing singingwithoutthe pressure of my fame.” Hunger builds between us as we stare into each other’s eyes. It’s an exquisite kind of torture, having him close enough to smell his seductive cinnamon scent but still too exposed in this packed bar to kiss him.
“Good grief. Please tell me they’re not going to make googly eyes at each other all night long. It’s disgusting,” Wayne says loudly to Alvina, slamming his beer on the table.
“Hope not. I didn’t sign up for that either.” Alvina shoots me a disapproving glare.
They share a look of commiseration.
