“Hey Logan,” smiles Marion as she lets me into her apartment. “My roommate is getting ready for work.” She motions to the sound of a hair dryer in the background.

“No worries. I just wanted to check on you.” Raking my hair back, I stroll into her messy living room. Not dirty, just cluttered. Since I’ve never been here before I don’t know if this is normal. But she’s such a fastidious person when it comes to dance, I would be surprised if she was a slob. Hey, maybe this is where she lets her hair down, figuratively and literally. “You doing all right?”

She thumps along the floor, hauling the heavy cast to the couch where she plops down. “Let’s just say I’ve caught up on my reading.”

“I bet,” I mutter.

“If you want something to drink, you’re going to have to get it yourself.” She jogs her thumb toward the kitchen which I can see a slice of from here.

Glancing over to a picture of a recital the three of us were in when we were 10 years old, I pick it up. There are seven other kids in the photo. We’re in denim from head to toe, including our cowboy hats. “I remember this. Why did you keep this picture?” Glancing to her I add, “You took this from your dad’s?”

“It was the only one he didn’t mind if I took.”

“Did you like this number?”

“No way. It was the cheesiest one we’ve ever done. Are you kidding? I have taste, Logan, give me some credit.”

I barely hear her because I’m looking at ten-year-old Samantha. This is when we were the same height. Then she had a growing spurt and surpassed me. I finally won that race. Setting the pink frame down I clear my throat and face Marion. “I had a good time that day.”

Her jaw drops. “You did? Why? Those moves were the most formulaic. Didn’t you think that? How could you not have thought that?”

A smile tugs because she is not wrong. “My sister came to that show, and it was the one she liked the most. Sam and I thought that was very funny.”

“That’s what you guys were laughing about?”

I cock my head as I sit on the red ottoman across from her. “You remember us laughing?”

On a self-conscious shrug, Marion admits, “I remember a lot of times when you guys were doing things without me.”

“We were best friends.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier to watch.”

“This is news to me.”

“Is it? Or is it just that I’m saying it out loud and you have to face it.”

Throwing up my hands I say, “Look, I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“I’m not fighting—”

“—And if you feel like you were left out when we were kids, I don’t really know what to tell you. It wasn’t intentional. We were kids. Some people you just click with. Sam and I clicked. It was like we were meant to…” I let it trail off. Marion and I sit in silence for a second. I’m staring at the floor and she’s staring at me.

“How is the show going?”

Muttering, “Good,” I start tapping my foot. “This is probably a touchy subject but…it’s looks like I’m headed for Broadway.”

Marion starts crying. I swear under my breath as she covers her face and lets the wails take over. Unabashed howling.

The hairdryer turns off in the bathroom and I hear heavy footsteps hurrying toward us. I expected a female roommate. But this guy ain’t that. He’s in blue jeans, no shirt, with the muscles and long hair of a Viking. I’m well built, but dancers are meant to fly. This guy is meant to fight. “Marion, who’s this? Is he bothering you?”

I blink a couple times.

She waves him away like he’s annoying her. “This is my friend Logan! Leave us alone, Troy!”

“Are you sure?” Thick eyebrows knot with concern for her. “You want me to get you a tissue?”

“Do I look like I need a tissue?”

He lumbers off and returns with one. I am speechless, bewildered even, as I watch her take it as if he’s just handed her a bag of flaming dog-shit. Troy glances from me to her and marches back to the bathroom, slamming the door.

What. Just. Happened.

“Hey, uh,” I begin, trying to get my head around that. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I figured it was better to rip off the Band-Aid and come out with it.”

She blows her nose, wiping it a couple times before balling up the tissue and placing it on the couch next to her. “Rub it in, Logan, well done.”

“You know me better than that.”

Her shoulders relax as she huffs, “Fine. Why did you come here?”

“I could just be checking on how your leg is.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No.”

“You are here because of something that has to do with Samantha. I don’t know what it is, but for sure it has to do with Sam. So why don’t you just spit it out so I can go back to watching my sad movies. I’m in a grieving process. I am crying as often as possible so that this doesn’t haunt me for the rest of my life. And I don’t care if it disturbs all of the men in my life. Including you! Including my dad!” She raises her voice to reach the bathroom. “And that includes you, too, Troy!”

He yanks open the door to shout, “I just don’t like to see you cry!”

“Get over it!”

“I’m trying to help you!”

“Well, stop!”

The door slams again.

She rubs her forehead, muttering, “Jeesh.”

The door opens, we hear thunderous footsteps marching across the hall. Another door slams a second later as he presumably sulks in his bedroom.

Marion locks eyes with me and waves her hand like she wants me to get on with it already.

I’m speechless. “Uh…uh…”

“Just spit it out!”

“It’s kind of a sensitive subject. I’m not sure if you’re in the right headspace.”

Her chin dips as she looks at me from underneath her slender eyebrows. “If you hold me back from watching my super sad drama movies, I am never going to be in the right headspace. What is it you want to tell me? That Samantha is going to Broadway? Do you think I don’t already know that? Do you think those tears were because you are going?”

My mouth was hanging open. I clamp it shut, shrug, and launch in, “What do you think about Asher, Marion?”

“I think he purposely let me fall so that Samantha would get the shot that I was made for. That’s what I think of Asher. I think he’s a scheming fuckhead who deserves someone to take him back to his knees — that’s what I think of Asher.”

I stammer, “Wait, hold on a second. You believe he did that and you’re not pursuing any kind of legal action against him?”

“There’s no way of proving it. I can’t even be sure. But I have a sneaking suspicion that snuck in right as it happened!”

“He’s going to Broadway after doing that to you!”

She throws her disgusting tissue at me. “Logan, you better get thicker skin if you’re going to be in show business.”

I dodged the goo-ball, and now I’m staring at it on the floor by my sneaker. “That’s what Galloway said.”

“She knows what she’s talking about, obviously. That’s why we listen to her. What I don’t get about you is how your head can be so far up your ass.”

I stand, getting angry. “Because I have some integrity, my head’s up my ass?”

Marion’s eyebrows fly up. “Yes!”

“Whatever. If you don’t care that he did that to you, then I don’t care either.”

“Oh I care that he did it. I just know something you aren’t capable of knowing.”

“What’s that?”

“If I were in his shoes, maybe I would’ve done the same. Asher and me, we’re the types who go places.”

I sneer in disgust, “Looks like you’re not going anywhere anytime soon,” and walk right out the door.