I did it.
I made plans to go to Chicago and try out for the role of Nikki the following week.
In the meantime, I had nightly conversations with Gray on the phone. A few of the nights, we lost track of time and talked into the wee hours of morning. We had kept everything on a friendly level, but I, no doubt, had feelings for him. I couldn’t wait to see him.
The whole thing was very exciting, but I had just arrived in Chicago, and I missed my little girl already. I went away for one night to a teacher's conference in Nashville when she was still in diapers, but this time, I was staying two nights. I would arrive on Sunday evening and read for the part of Nikki on Monday afternoon before flying back to Memphis at noon on Tuesday.
Gray picked me up from the airport. I didn't have any checked luggage, so I went directly to the curbside pick up area where he told me to meet him. It was significantly colder in Chicago than it was in Memphis, and I was thankful I brought a coat. I breathed in the cool air, feeling about ten different emotions at once.
I had only been standing there for a few seconds when I spotted Gray driving my way. It took a minute or two for him to make his way up to where I was standing, and I smiled from ear to ear the whole time. The passenger's door of his truck popped open right after he came to a stop, and I peeked inside to find that Gray was leaning over and smiling at me.
"You're here," he said.
"I'm here," I agreed, climbing into the seat.
His truck had a smaller seat in the middle, and I wanted to scoot over next to him and sit in it, but I didn't. I sat in the regular passenger's seat, which might as well have been about a million miles away from Gray.
He was dressed sharply in dark jeans and a button-down shirt with a light jacket, and I looked him over as he merged back into the airport traffic. I had talked to him for so many hours on the phone that I felt like I knew him as a different person than the one I met in Memphis. I was lovestruck and slightly intimidated. I found myself short of breath like if I tried to speak, my voice would come out too deep. It's for this reason that I kept quiet.
"How was your flight?" he asked.
So much for keeping quiet.
"Good," I said. Thankfully, my voice didn't seem to betray me.
Gray concentrated on driving for a minute, passing a few cars and changing lanes to get on the right road as we exited the airport. He gave me a quick glance once we were out of the heaviest parts of traffic.
"I'm so happy you're here," he said.
"Me too," I returned, staring at the side of his face as he drove. "I missed you."
"You're not allowed to say that," he said.
"Why not? I did miss you."
"Yeah, but…"
"But what?"
"Nothing. I got you a hotel close to my parents' house, but I don't see why you can't just stay with me. You can sleep in Kevin's old room."
"Because I thought I was going to try out for this show and pretend I didn't know you."
"You still can. Just because you sleep at my house doesn't mean Kevin or the directors will know who you are."
"Maybe I should spend the first night at a hotel, and then I could spend the second one at your house once the audition's over. If you're sure your parents won't mind."
"I want them to meet you," he said. "So they understand why I'd do something crazy like rent an apartment in Memphis when I don't even live there."
"Do they think you're crazy for that?" I asked.
He shook his head. "I've told them about you."
"Oh yeah? What'd you say?"
Gray and I had lengthy conversations about our families, and I knew his parents we're privy to the whole story about how he got in touch with me, but I didn't know how much else he had told them.
"They know I have a big crush on you."
"They do not," I said even though I hoped it was true. His words caused even more anticipation to rise up inside me. "Do they know I'm coming?"
Gray shook his head. "I knew mom would end up accidentally mentioning it to Kevin if I told her too far ahead of time. You could still spend the night tonight and he wouldn't find out by tomorrow, though. She can keep a secret for one day."
I stared at the side of his face. I wanted to tell him that I had a crush on him as well, but I felt like that moment had passed and it would be weird for me to bring it up again.
"I'm gonna go ahead and spend tonight at a hotel. And then tomorrow, after I get all this nerve-racking stuff over with, I'll come by and meet your parents if that's okay."
"You don't need to be nervous," he said.
I smirked at him. "Says the guy who already got the job."
He turned to glance at me with a smile before reaching out to touch me. I gave him my hand, and he held it in his, lacing his fingers between mine for a second before shifting again to a more comfortable position where his hand was gently wrapped around mine. He was officially holding my hand, and it caused sensory overload. His touch affected my adrenals—my nervous system.
"Gray?" I said.
"Yeah?"
I started to say something about how very much I liked him, and then I thought better of it.
"Hi," I said.
"Hi, Jane," he said with a smile.
I adjusted my hand in his just to feel his skin shift next to mine. "You're holding my hand," I said.
"Yes, I am," he said. "I was missing you."
His sincerity caused an aching sensation in my chest.
"I know, me too," I said. "I missed you too, but I still think we have to take it slow. You know, we can't go too fast."
I was talking to myself since I felt completely swept away by him and would have agreed to follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked me to.
"All I'm doing is holding your hand," he said, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. "Is that going too fast? I thought I could maybe get by with holding your hand since Shelby's not around."
"You did?" I asked, feeling all ooey-gooey.
"Yes," he said, readjusting to grasp me a little tighter.
His words and movements caused sheer destruction of my will. How in the world was I supposed to keep my cool with this guy?
"I told myself I was just going to be friends with you when I came here, and now I'm already making contact in the first five minutes."
"Well, I'm making the contact, too. Don't blame the whole thing on yourself." He was grinning as he kept his eyes on the road, and I stared at his flawless profile.
***
I stayed at the hotel that night.
I asked Gray not to tell his family I was there yet because I was just that nervous about the audition and my ability not to make a fool out of myself while doing it.
Gray had a meeting the next morning, and he had to be at the station before I did, but he still picked me up so that I could ride downtown with him. He reminded me on the way that we were just doing this for fun, and there was no pressure for me to actually get the part.
There was a gigantic record store with attached café right across the street from the studio, so I spent most of the morning in there before making my way to the audition.
There were at least four other "Nikkis" in the waiting room with me. I knew because we all fit the same basic description. We all knew we were each other's competition, and the atmosphere in the room was somewhat tense because of it.
Three of them had guitars, and one of them two different boxes—one which looked like it contained a violin, and the other a flute or some other kind of small horn. I was definitely the only one without an instrument, and I hated myself for not assuming I would need it. Really, I couldn’t blame myself or Gray for the oversight because neither of us knew what we were doing when it came to this stuff.
I didn't talk much to the other Nikkis. I was tempted to make conversation with them, but none of them talked to each other. They simply sat there and looked through magazines, so I just followed what I assumed was protocol.
All four of them got called in before me. I was wishing I could be the first one to go, and now all I had done was sit there and become more nervous.
One of the girls was wearing a satisfied smile when she walked out, which made me feel like she already had the part. By the time my name was called, I had already decided it was totally okay for me not to get the spot and I should just go in there, be honest, have fun, and be myself.
"Hand your headshot to the man in blue," the lady said as she let me in the door.
There was a table on the far side of the room with two men sitting behind it—one who was indeed wearing blue. I smiled at him, handing him the photo I had brought for my headshot.
"Merry Christmas to you, too, Misses…" he hesitated, glancing at the paperwork in front of him as if looking for my name.
"Jane," I said. "Jane Bishop. And Merry Christmas."
"It's a little early, don't you think," he asked, smiling good-naturedly at me from over his glasses.
"That's last year's card, so if anything, it's late. Sorry about that. I'm new to this, and it was the closest thing I could find to a headshot."
"Who's the little girl?"
"My daughter."
"Shelby," he said, opening the card, and reading our names.
"Shelby," I agreed.
"Well, Jane, Shelby's mom… I'm John, the casting director. Do you plan on having any more kids during the next few years?"
"Sir?"
"Children," he said. "Are you planning on having any more of them soon?"
"No sir, I mean, I, I would have to get married and everything first."
"So, you're single, Ms. Bishop?"
"Yes sir," I said, having no idea how that pertained.
It must have been the right answer because he smiled. "This is Bill and Sandra."
I smiled and waved at them, trying to calm my nerves even though the whole thing was surreal. Sandra was the lady who had let me in, and had already taken her seat behind the table next to the other two.
John motioned for me to have a seat. The chair he recommended for me was in the middle of the room with nothing to hide or block me, and I sat in it wondering how I had gotten myself into this predicament.
In addition to the three people staring at me from the other side of the table, there was also a huge movie camera. It was so sizeable that it had to be positioned on the top of a big stand with rollers. I didn't even know it was a camera at first, and for a second, I got stuck staring into the lens—hypnotized by it.
"It doesn't look like you have much experience," John said, staring at my paperwork.
"No sir," I said. "I'm counting on looking just like the girl you're searching for."
He laughed at that. "Well, you're definitely what we had in mind physically, Ms. Bishop."
He pointed at the little plastic bag I had stashed near the foot of my chair. "Did you bring an instrument?" he asked.
For a second I glanced down, but then I realized he was talking about the plastic bag containing my purchases from the record store. "No sir, that's just a couple of CDs I bought at the record store while I was waiting to come over here."
"Tom Petty," I said. "And another one by a band called Ladysmith Black Mambazo."
"African music?" Sandra asked.
I smiled at her and nodded. "I'm just trying to expose my little girl to different types of music."
"It says here that you play piano and sing," John said, getting back to business.
"I do. I guess I should have known to bring a keyboard."
"What type of music?" John asked.
"Soul and blues mostly."
"Who's your favorite artist?"
"That's incredibly difficult. Probably my mom or Stevie Wonder."
They all laughed.
"You must have some kind of mom to be tied with Stevie Wonder," Sandra said.
"She's amazing," I said.
"Wait, your mom's not Ivy Bishop, is she?"
It was Bill, the guy sitting on the end, who asked the question. He had been pretty quiet up until then, but I looked at him to find that he was staring at me with newfound interest.
I gave him a little nod. "Do you know her?" I asked.
"Know her? Honey, I own everything she ever released. I've seen her in concert four times. Please tell me Ivy Bishop is your mother or aunt or something. You're not that little girl she brought up on stage with her, are you?"
I nodded. "She's my mom," I said.
I hadn't even finished the statement when he slapped his hands onto the table causing me to jump.
"Who woulda thought! Ivy Bishop's daughter, right here, trying out for a part in one of my shows!" He stared at me with wide eyes. "Can you sing like her?"
"I can try," I said, making an overly hopeful and anxious face that caused him to laugh.
I spent the next fifteen minutes, talking to the three of them.
Bill, the director, was such a huge fan of my mom's that it was obvious he liked me and wanted to see me get the part. I was honestly relieved that I had at least not blown it. Bill was actually a fan of my family in other ways, too, telling me all about a '78 Bishop sportster he used to have and how it helped him get a date with the woman who was now his wife.
John, the casting director, wasn't as familiar or impressed with my family, but he and Sandra were both easy to get along with, and I felt at ease and comfortable with all of them.