A text comes through as I climb into my Jeep. I don’t know why at first I think it might be Samantha. Haven’t heard from her in days. Except when I briefly talk to her at the theater. Not that I’ve been welcoming any kind of contact. It’s been fucking difficult to be as cold to her as I’ve been, but I have to protect myself. Every time I see him touching her crushes me a little bit more. I never thought I was the jaded type, but now I realize how people become that.

“Hey Ms. Galloway, got your text and thought I’d call you back.”

“Are you nearby, Logan?”

“I’m in the parking lot still.”

“Can you come back up? I have something I want to say to you.”

Frowning, I hop out and pocket my key fob. “On my way.”

I hope I don’t run into Samantha, but there’s no way they’ll be on the same elevator or even the same floor. That would be too fucked up.

I’m safe.

Subterranean parking garages, such as this one, have a distinct smell. Even with the clean-energy air of our times, there’s a staleness to it from lack of wind and the depth of how far it goes down. I clear my throat as I head for the two elevators that lead to the biggest theater in Atlanta. It needs a paint job down here. The scuffs aren’t too bad, but it doesn’t have the shine that the lobby, theater, and courtyard have.

Why am I even thinking about this stuff right now? Oh right. Anything to distract me from that fucking guy.

The elevator doors open revealing Samantha and Asher, pressed together, talking about something that evaporates as they see me. She smiles with zero awareness that when she holds his hand she holds a knife in my heart, too. “Logan, you’re still here!”

I mutter, “Galloway called me back up to the theater.” The lovebirds exchange a look that makes me ask, “What?”

Sam is bursting with news. She’s not sure if she should tell me, but she just can’t help herself. “I’m going to Broadway, Logan! She’s probably going to tell you that you’re coming too!”

I ask, “You coming?” and Asher’s smile flickers.

“Of course, I’m going. That’s why I’m down here. What makes you think I wouldn’t go?”

Samantha interjects, “Logan wasn’t meaning anything by that. It was just a question.”

Asher is clocking me. “Sure it was.” He pushes the button for the elevator, which was waiting without anyone having called it away yet. The doors swish open and he guides the girl who was supposed to be my future bride, away.

I grit my teeth.

She calls after me, “Tell me what she says!” When I don’t respond, Samantha insists, “Logan, text me!”

“I will.”

Hope I don’t get this promotion. I used to want this so badly, and part of me still does, but it’s tainted now. Is this the price I have to pay? Have I been just deluding myself this entire time by loving somebody who could never love me back? I was fine just being her friend because I was around her all the time, a constant part of her life. I was happy.

I never had to endure some other guy kissing her.

I can’t think of anything past that without having bile rise to the back of my throat. No way I can stomach the idea that they’ve had sex. She seems the same, not that it would show. Would it? I’m making myself nuts. Stop.

The theater is echo-quiet save for two technicians. One shouts to the other, “The blue gel didn’t come on after the second act,” his voice ricocheting off an empty auditorium.

“Must have burnt out.”

Burnt out. The curse of any performer after years of striving and not getting exactly where you want to be. I heard of this phenomena, but I’ve never been it. I’m at the beginning. Whatever Galloway says in there could put me on the path either up or down. Up might even be down it means I have to… Stop thinking like this. You don’t even know what she’s going to say.

Show up and shut up.

Maybe she will set you free.

That’s what you want, isn’t it?

I rap on the office door and open it as she calls, “Come in.”

She slides her glasses off and holds them in her hand as she rests a graceful wrist on the desk to her left. Dancer-legs that haven’t lost their shape cross in a simple black dress meant for you to look at her face, instead, and take her seriously. “I’ve been watching you.”

Taking a seat, I lean forward on my elbows, concentrating on her. “Is that a good thing?”

“I have a question I hope you don’t mind my asking.” She pauses, pushing the glasses away with one finger before she meets my eyes again. “It’s a little personal. You can tell me no.”

A smirk tugs. “I’d like to know the question first.”

“Don’t get too excited. I’m not coming on to you.”

Leaning back, I chuckle, “Got it. Well if it makes you feel good, my answer might not have been no.”

“Even if the entire time you and I were having wild passionate sex, you would’ve been thinking of Samantha?”

Glancing away from her piercing stare, I mutter, “Oh, so that’s the question you were going to ask.”

“It’s none of my business, except for it is. I want you to go to Broadway with us. In fact, I want you to understudy for the role of Donovan, but I don’t want what happened with Marion to happen again.”

My eyebrows scrunch. “What do you mean?”

“If you are to play a performance opposite Samantha once or twice a month as understudy, I wouldn’t want you to accidentally drop her.”

My chest explodes with violence as I stand up and bark, “I would never hurt her! How could you even say something like that to me? How could you say that to anyone?” The gravity sinks in. “Asher dropped Marion on purpose?”

Ms. Galloway picks up her glasses and taps them on the table. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting into, Logan. When they say this business is cutthroat, they are just shy of meaning it literally. And I wouldn’t be surprised if in the good old days when theater actors were the poorest people around, traveling from city to city, that there weren’t a few actual throats cut in order to rise in ranks. I can’t prove that Asher did anything wrong. I looked away just before Marion fell. And I’ll never forget that, nor forgive myself for it. But I know that he didn’t like her very much. And I’ve seen worse.” Holding my stare she says, “I had a bunion removed on my foot where they found tiny bits of glass.”

“Glass? I don’t understand.”

“I’ve been locked in the bathroom so I missed my cue and lost the part. They put glass in my pointe shoes because I was the lead. I had callous upon callous upon callous and couldn’t feel it, but the glass dug under my skin until it became bunions and I needed surgery. They found it in the X-ray.” She sighs and repeats, “I have seen worse.”

“You’re suspecting that, but you’re still sending him with the production?” I demand.

“Stuart wants him in the role. He has a huge following. He put butts in the chairs.”

Disgusted, I go to leave.

Galloway calls after me, voice sober. “Logan Clark!” I pause. “What are you going to do? Stay here your whole life auditioning for roles that have been few? I’ve noticed you’ve stepped it up since we opened. That’s because you’re feeling intensely competitive with him and it’s working. But I have to tell you something. You’re a better dancer than he is. If you stick with this, you can be a bigger star than you ever dreamed possible.” I let go of the handle and turn around. She stands up and approaches me. “Think of every country you’ve ever wanted to go. The trips are paid for. You’re performing in front of people who adore you. You can have any girl you want. Or any guy. People will give you gifts. You have a family in the theater. One like you never experienced in real life. There will be adventures that I can’t describe to you, the kind of excitement that seeps into your bones. There were adventures in my past that just by my thinking about them my adrenaline sparks and I’m there again. I will always have that.”

Heavy from the choice, I glare at her. “Why did you leave it behind if it was so wonderful?”

“It left me behind. The roles went to younger dancers. Time isn’t kind to people like us. We have to take our shot when it’s given.”

“Ms. Galloway,” I begin.

She cuts me off, “Whatever your feelings are for Samantha, don’t let one person distract you from a future so amazing, millions dream of living it. Here it is just waiting for you to say, yes.”

“I’ll think about it.”

My hand is firm as I turn the knob and leave her staring after me.

This is my decision to make.

I have somebody I need to talk to.