Broadway Lights Read online

  JORDAN:

  Becks is right, Andie. Leo is a loser. He doesn't deserve you. You're better off without him. There. I've said every romantic cliché I can think of, but the end result is just like the movie version of the bestselling book: Andie, he's just not that into you.

  ANDIE:

  How can he not be into me if he doesn't know me?

  (Andie stands up.)

  BECCA:

  (panicked) What are you doing?

  ANDIE:

  Something I should have done a long time ago: talking to Leo.

  JORDAN:

  Andie, this is suicide! Come back. I don't want to wear black on graduation day.

  (Andie walks over to Leo's table. His friends are talking, but Leo looks up.)

  ANDIE:

  Leo? Hey. I'm Andie Amber. You don't know me even though we've had the same history class together for four years. We talked once. I lent you my purple highlighter in science class when you needed something to write with because you forgot your backpack at home.

  LEO:

  I remember you. Hi, Andie.

  ANDIE:

  You do? I mean, hi.

  JENNY:

  (whispering to Leo) Snoresville! Tell her to go away. She's giving me a headache.

  ANDIE:

  You never gave me the highlighter back.

  LEO:

  Sorry. I'll buy you another one if you want.

  ANDIE:

  That's okay. It doesn't matter.

  JENNY:

  Do you have a point to make?

  ANDIE:

  Yes. I have something I've waited four years to say to Leo and I can't wait another day because we don't have another day. So I'm going to say it now, okay? Out loud, before I lose my chance.

  FOUR: The Welcome Wagon

  "You couldn't let this thing just die, could you? You had to go and make it worse! They're never going to back down now!"

  I'm on the phone with Sky--yes, Sky--and I haven't come up for air in at least ten minutes. I think we've had maybe six phone conversations between us during the last decade and I've already spoken to her three times this morning as I get dressed and ready to go to my first rehearsal with the Minds crew. My room is finally free of boxes and looks more like a real bedroom. All of my pictures, posters, and pillows have been carefully placed around the room. I'm wearing my iPhone Bluetooth while I talk so I can pick out what I'm going to wear today. Shockingly, Sky is letting me speak.

  "My mom is freaking out that I'm going to wind up back in the hospital!" I vent. "Laney is worried that I'm going to damage my already fragile reputation, and Access Hollywood has been calling Nadine all morning begging for an exclusive."

  "Don't forget Celebrity Insider," Matty reminds me. He's sitting on my bed drinking a banana smoothie. We're going to take a car uptown together. I have my first rehearsal for the show, and Matty has a photo shoot for Teen Vogue. He's wearing Diesel jeans and a plain white Hanes tee. Even though they're going to dress him at the shoot, he's worried that they'll do some behind the scenes feature where they say what the star arrived in and he doesn't want to wear anything "uncool." Teen Vogue is featuring him as a fresh face in a fall issue for Scooby, and he's so excited I think he might spontaneously combust. Either that or his head is going to explode, but that was going to happen someday anyway. His ego is sort of swollen.

  "Celebrity Insider called too!" I repeat. I hold up two different sweaters for Matty's approval--A DKNY turquoise knit one that I could pair with a white linen ruffle shirt and Nanette Lepore indigo wide-leg pants or a black Tahari wrap sweater with short sleeves that screams New York. Matty points to the black top. I give him a thumbs up, then wave him out so I can change. I quickly throw my Bobbi Brown lipgloss and my notebook in my snakeskin Orion Wrap bag. Orion is this new brand that is huge right out of the gate and this is their must-have first bag. They sent it to me and it's become my bag of choice for city living. It's big enough that I can fit my makeup, a book, and my iPhone but small enough that I don't feel like I'm carrying a sack of potatoes.

  "K, would you stop whining?" Sky interrupts me. "I did you a favor, and you haven't even said thank you." I hear her sniffle.

  "Thank you? Thank you?" I say in outrage. "You're getting me in trouble. Again! You are absolutely pulling a Britney on me, aren't you? I bet you didn't even talk to your publicist first. And I can't believe you used that line about Skittles! That was a private text."

  "If I hadn't put your name on those things then Ava and Lauren would think you're a total doormat, which you are, but since your name is linked with mine I had to do something! Your 'Let's take the high road' Gandhi texts just weren't cutting it," Sky says in a high-pitched voice that I assume is supposed to be mine. "You're too peace, love, and understanding. You have to get fired up and strike back at people sometimes! I needed to say those things on Twitter! And Facebook! And my blog! I was doing damage control for us. You should hear what they said to me at--BEEP--Hershberger's on Saturday! I almost jumped off the massage chair and--BEEP--her neck!"

  "Sky? It's Laney," I say, staring at the caller ID. "I should take this."

  "I've got a--BEEP--I'll see you in a few days," Sky tells me. "I'll be in town for the upfronts and..."

  The upfronts! Sigh. Oh, how I miss those! HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER FOUR: Some people get to see next fall's shows before the rest of the world. Every spring, the five major networks roll out the red carpet in New York City and fly in their biggest talent to show off their new schedules to advertisers, media elites, and network affiliates. They put on this big production to do it, throwing parties and airing clips from their newest shows. It's basically a schmooze-fest, but it's also a lot of fun. This is one of the few times a year you get to hang out with fellow network stars under one roof. It's where I met Patrick Dempsey (so love him), tripped over Jennifer Garner's (adore her) cute black stilettos at a party and, according to my mother, embarrassed her in front of George Clooney eons ago when he was on ER. I was little so I don't remember this, but Mom claims I asked him why his hair was gray. Anyway, back to the upfronts: You do interviews with the press and appear at the main event, but mostly it's one big party filled with gift suites, cast photo ops, and fan pictures. I used to beg Tom Pullman, our FA creator, to send me every year. Now Matty gets to go for Scooby, and Sky for her pilot.

  "... so I was thinking Bubby's for brunch," Sky is saying. "K? K! HELLOOOO?"

  "What? Yeah. Sure," I agree to I'm not sure what. "What was the question?"

  Sky lets out a deep, long sigh. "Brunch. With me to discuss Project Destroy LAVA. You in?"

  Brunch? With Sky? Even though I find the idea odd, I find the next thought that pops into my head much odder: I actually want to go. "Okay," I tell her. "As long as you stop calling them LAVA. Call me when you get to town."

  "Or sooner," Sky says quickly. "Who knows what--BEEP--next, you know? Gotta hop, K. More later." Click.

  I switch over to Laney. "I'm so sorry. I--"

  "I've got the most fabulous news!" Laney nearly bursts through the phone, she's so loud. This is the most upbeat I've heard her since Fergie asked her to be a bridesmaid at her wedding. "You'll never guess! Seth and I were FLIPPING! He's going to call you, so play dumb because I'm not supposed to open my mouth, but I had to tell you first. Ready?"

  A new TV show?

  That's the first thought that pops into my head, which surprises me even more than wanting to have brunch with Sky. Is that what I want? A new TV show? I finally have a schedule that allows me to do things like Broadway. Do I really want to spend all those hours on a set again? Maybe I'm just thinking about TV shows again because Family Affair had its finale Sunday night and because the upfronts are next week. That's got to be it. "Tell me."

  "Lorne Michaels just called Seth!" Laney trips over the words, they're coming out so fast. "He wants you and Sky to host the season finale of SNL!"

  "Saturday Night Live?" I repeat her words just to be sure. That's the only SNL I k
now of, but I'm so shocked I have to double-check. "He wants me to host the show?" I start doing laps around my room to calm down. Me? SNL? I've always wanted to host. I wonder who the musical act is? Ooh, imagine if it's Lady Gaga? I so want to meet Lady Gaga!

  "You and Sky," Laney reiterates. "I guess the trash-talking that maniac did on all her websites was a good thing because Lorne says your little brouhaha with Ava and Lauren is the 'it' topic du jour! People are salivating over you two like a good piece of Kobe beef! They're dying to see you and Sky pummel the girls, and Lorne figures they can write some great skits. He wants the writers to cook up one where the two of you pretend to be Lauren and Ava, and you're dressed as Skittles. Wouldn't--BEEP--hilarious? God, I'd love to see their faces when it airs."

  I check my call-waiting. It's Seth. "Laney, Seth is beeping in."

  "Fine, let him tell you the rest," Laney sounds miffed.

  As I switch over I can't help thinking that Sky was right about getting your inner anger out sometimes. Her rants got us the gig on SNL. Now I feel guilty for yelling at her. She is so going to make me apologize after this.

  Still, doing skits bashing Lauren and Ava makes me nervous. It will just set them off more, and this whole circus will continue. But this is SNL. You don't turn it down. And besides, their skits won't be out and out mean. They'll be funny mean, which I guess is better.

  "Hi Seth!" I try to sound breezy. "Just running out the door for rehearsals. What's going on?"

  "She already called you, didn't she?" Seth laughs. "She always does this to me. Don't deny it, Kaitlin. Just tell me how you feel. Excited, right?"

  I exhale. "Yes. SO excited! I can't believe they want me!" I stop pacing. "Seth, how can I do this?" I bite my lower lip. "Won't I be doing the play by then?"

  "Since the season finale is late this year, you'll still be in rehearsals," Seth explains. "I'm going to call the production office to confirm, but we think we figured it out. We're sure Meeting will cooperate and you should be fine. It's going to be a lot of hours, but you can't pass this up. This is huge, my shining star!"

  "Okay!" I say giddily. "I'm in!" I wiggle into my sweater while I'm still talking, pulling it over my Bluetooth, then grab my Orion bag and head into the hall. "Send Nadine all the details. When do I meet with them? Do I get to go over the skits? Will I get to do one with Andy Samberg? I love him! Ooh, maybe Justin Timberlake will come on and do a skit with us! Can I ask for Andy and Justin?"

  I'm still talking as I practically float out the door and down the elevators with Matty, who is staring at me curiously. I scribble him a note to explain what's happening as I continue to chat with Seth about the logistics of hosting, what I need to do before then, and how I should call Sky to discuss details. If only Seth knew I was just on the phone with her. Matty shows Nadine the note and then she turns and shows it to Rodney and then he shows it to our doorman, Andrew, and before I know it we're all doing the happy dance.

  "Seth's right, this is a big deal," Nadine agrees a short time later as we crawl up Broadway in traffic on our way to the theater. The car moves and stops, moves and stops, then the traffic opens up for a minute and our driver hits the gas, then the brake, and we move and stop again. The whole dance makes me feel like a bobblehead sometimes! We've just dropped Matty off at the Sheraton Midtown, where the rest of his cast is staying for the upfronts, and we're slowly on our way to my stop. At least in New York, there are other ways to get around if we have to ditch the car. I can ask the driver to let me out so I can walk, which is great because when I'm walking I see shops I didn't even know existed. The other day I was heading back from a fitting for my costumes and I got out of a taxi right in front of the original Kiehls. I got so much stuff that I had to get in another taxi to go home, which meant more traffic, but I was so busy trying out my new loot, I didn't care. Last night when our cab was idling between 36th and 34th Street on Broadway for over fifteen minutes, Nadine and I jumped out and took the subway. (Shh! I've already gone on it twice with Nadine and it was fine. Sure, a little hot down there, but it was easy and so fast! And crazily enough, no one even looked twice at me.)

  "Think of the exposure you'll be giving the production and yourself, " Nadine continues. "I bet a bunch of casting directors will come knocking after this."

  "Do you think they'll still knock when they find out Sky and I were only asked to host because of this catfight with Lauren and Ava?" I worry. "SNL only picked us because of Sky's angry rants on Twitter. I'm nowhere as nasty as she is. I'm just along for the ride and I kind of feel guilty about it."

  "Who cares?" Nadine makes her point loudly. Loud enough to be heard over the sound of horns honking at the intersection. Two cars are blocking our path in the opposite direction and our driver has his hand firmly pressed on the horn. I'm already so used to the melody of horns--and police sirens, bright lights, and ambulances, not to mention drivers yelling in English and their native languages. "The point is you're hosting SNL," Nadine tells me. "No one watching knows why they asked you. They just know you've been picked and that's a good thing. And as for Sky going postal on Lauren and Ava, I personally think it's about time."

  I stare at her wide-eyed.

  "I'm serious," Nadine says defiantly and smoothes her red hair with her nail-bitten fingers. "I think Sky might be right. Sometimes being a jerk actually works."

  "Um, maybe," I say, looking at Nadine like she's crazy. She just agreed with Sky. Is hell freezing over? "I should tell Liz and Austin." I look at my watch. It's eleven-thirty AM, which means it's eight thirty AM in Los Angeles. They're both probably in first period. I try Liz first--she's late for school and in the car with her dad. She screams so loud that her dad yells at her and she has to go. Next I call Austin and he picks up on the first ring.

  "Hey, Burke. Where are you off to?" Austin's deep voice almost causes me to stop breathing. Just when I think I'm getting used to not seeing him, I hear his voice and it sends me into a tailspin all over again.

  "Sorry to catch you in class," I apologize.

  "I'm not," Austin says quickly and I pick up on the sounds in the background; lots of guys' voices, balls bouncing, and squeaking sneakers. "We're on an assembly schedule today so I have gym, which as you know, I don't consider a class."

  I picture him grinning as he stands in the middle of the gym in nylon shorts and a tank top that shows off his biceps. I want to ooze onto the floor. His arms. I want to see Austin's smooth, muscular arms, which are usually wrapped around my waist...

  "But I do have to get back to a basketball game Murray is beating me at, so...," Austin hesitates.

  Oh! That's right. I'm on the phone. No daydreaming about my boyfriend when I'm actually talking to my boyfriend. I have to remember that. "I just got a call from Laney. Well, Laney and Seth," I correct myself. "Guess who is the host of the season finale of SNL? Me! And Sky, but me! I'm going to be on SNL!" I'm practically bouncing up and down on the black leather seats. I'd be doing that anyway with these potholes now that the traffic has cleared. Nadine and I are slipping and sliding into each other. Rodney's in the front seat and he keeps staring down the driver, trying to yell at him telepathically. (I told him the first week to let them do their job without all his "constructive criticism" and staring them down through his shades. Their job is probably harder than it looks, and it looks hard.)

  "Nice, Burke!" Austin exclaims. "You'll finally get to meet Andy Samberg."

  "I know!" Austin remembers how much I like him. He really does pay attention when I talk. Or ramble. Which I do a lot. "I wish you could be in the audience," I say wistfully. "I'm going to be so nervous."

  "No you're not," Austin insists. "You'll be perfect. Think of SNL as a dry run for the play. That's live too, in case you forgot. The difference is with SNL, millions of people are watching you." He chuckles. "Okay, I'd be nervous too. But I'll be tuning in to cheer you on."

  I feel my body being pulled forward and I put out my hand to avoid smushing my face into the padded black leather
back of the front seat. We're slowing down. I look outside and see we've reached the theater. "Thanks." I feel anxious now that we're here. "I'll call you later, okay? Go beat Murray to a pulp."

  "I will," Austin promises, and then he's gone.

  I take a deep breath--partially to calm down from thinking about kissing Austin, which I think about a lot now that I can't, and partially to keep me from hyperventilating about what I'm about to do: go into my first rehearsal for Meeting of the Minds. The play I'm going to be starring in. In just a few short weeks. Yowza.

  Nadine gets out of the car first, followed by Rodney, who is still grumbling. "What kind of driving was that? We're crawling and he's weaving in and out of lanes and making tight turns, squeaking by pedestrians..."

  "Rod, they drive like that here," Nadine reminds him for the umpteenth time. "They've got to keep up with the taxi drivers and move, move, move."

  "Still, if I was driving us around, I wouldn't do that." He stares longingly at the back of the Lincoln Town Car that just dropped us off.

  "I keep telling you, you've got more important things to do than chauffeur." I rub his huge arm. He hands me a green Sharpie and nods to two tween girls who've just spotted me. They dart over, speaking in such a high register that I can barely understand what they're saying. I glance at him. "You've got to keep me safe. Usually from myself. " I sign the girls' T-shirts, take a picture with them on their camera phone, and then I head into the theater.

  The Limestone Theater isn't much to look at from the outside, but the lobby takes your breath away. It was built in the 1930s and from what I read online, it's been restored twice since then. The first time they did away with all the vintage touches; the second time, when old school became new school, they put them all back. There are gilded gold moldings throughout, carved stone pillars, plush red carpeting, high vaulted ceilings, plaster walls, and heavy wood doors leading into the actual theater. What I love best is the painted murals on the walls. They seem art deco, which doesn't quite jibe with the rest of the Renissance decor and Greek statues, but it still works. The lobby is quiet--there is no performance on Mondays--but I can picture what the place must look like before a sold-out show. You can almost hear the voices of people finding their seats. I pull the closest heavy door open and step into the cool, partially dark theater. Rows and rows of velvet-lined seats greet me in the cavernous room. (I think Nadine said the house holds 1,100 seats between the main level and the balcony.) The decor is even more elaborate inside, with lots more gold leaf on the walls and carved stone on the balcony boxes. The stage looks huge from here and there are long, thick red velvet curtains pulled to the sides. I can see the fifty-person orchestra pit which is partially exposed to the audience, in front of the stage. Only some of the lights are on, but the stage is still completely lit up and I can see the exposed black bricks of the backstage area. The show's background is missing at the moment.