I slide my gaze up the Midtown skyscraper where I’ll be rehearsing day in and day out for weeks, playing a part where I have actual dialogue.

We might go to New York if we do well. It’s a common practice to preview Broadway shows here at the Alliance, but not every local cast member gets chosen to travel with the bigger production. Sometimes we’re guinea pigs, test dummies. I’d love a chance at the big time. You don’t train as hard as I have and not hope for greatness.

I spot Lexi’s car pulling up, and cock my head, happy but more than a little surprised. What is Sam doing here? Why didn’t she call?

She emerges in grey leggings and a loose black shirt. Her blonde ponytail flips as she turns to tell her sister, “Thanks for the ride.”

Lexi leans to ask, “Pick you up at what time?” her bright red hair hanging long as she waves to me. “Hi Logan!”

“Lex,” I nod, and lock eyes with Samantha as she glances over. “Hey.”

She jerks her chin, and dips down for her bag, putting the cherry-red strap over her shoulder. “I don’t know yet. I’ll text you.” Shutting the door, she sends the blue Subaru off with a tap. “I’m trying to be excited about this.”

I frown with the deduction, “You got the background, but not the solo.”

Sighing, she gazes at the shiny building, “I would’ve called you if I got that part.”

The sunlight splashing in her eyes…damn.

“You were supposed to call me either way. Why didn’t you tell me they cast you as—”

“Couldn’t, Logan,” she murmurs, bringing a fingernail to her mouth.

“Biting them again?”

She shoves them behind her back with a smile. “Maybe.”

I try to grab them, but she ducks out of the way, laughing. Her expression flickers on something behind me, back straightening a little.

I turn my head to discover a good-looking guy with black hair and hazel eyes strolling toward us. I’ve never seen him before, but he’s got a rehearsal bag casually in his grip. From his muscle structure and the way he walks, he’s a dancer like us.

His sleepy gaze locks on Sam until he turns to enter the building.

I realize with a sinking feeling that she thinks he’s hot. She never looks at me like that. And I didn’t get a phone call that she got cast as background? I’m feeling pretty unimportant here.

She jogs her chin. “Who was that?”

I give a bored, “Dunno. Don’t care.”

Her eyes sparkle as she smirks, “Rehearsal just got more interesting. Come on.”

“Yeah, it’s almost time,” I mutter, like I was ready to go in anyway.

Sucking on my teeth I grab the door before she can. Her blonde ponytail ticktocks past with an obligatory, “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

He’s waiting by the elevator, which irks me that it didn’t already scoop the jackass up.

His expression is cool but watchful.

Oh, he’s going to play it like that, eh?

Sam and I stand next to him, and face the stainless steel doors, waiting for the car to come. My blood is itching because it’s hard not to notice she’s wondering how to start a conversation.

She blurts, “You in the show, too?”

He locks eyes with her. “Yeah, what part do you play?”

So he’s not background then. The guy wouldn't have asked that loaded question if he were. It implies he has a part.

I answer, “The brother.”

Samantha glances to me, knowing I saved her from saying she didn’t have one.

He nods to me as we all walk on, but he’s interested in her. “I’m playing Donovan, the lead.”

“Oh wow!” Sam whispers as she begins to understand. “You’re from New York, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Name’s Asher.”

“Samantha.”

I thrust my hand out like a dumbass. “Looks like we’re family for the next three weeks plus performances.”

We shake, and he returns his curiosity to Sam until she gives him a shrug, “Background dancer.”

“You should be up front.”

Her grin is his reward.

I want to punch the guy.

I’m not a fighter.

Or at least, I wasn’t one.

Put someone in the right situation and they’re capable of anything. I can feel my knuckles twitching as he glances to her ass. Sam’s standing just ahead of us enough with her eyes on the ascending numbers. He and I lock stares and he holds my look, gauging me.

A cacophony of first-day excitement breaks the tension as doors slide open to over thirty dancers, actors, and singers, gathered in the waiting room.

Ms. Galloway appears, motioning for us all to join her in the twelve-hundred-square-foot rehearsal space. “Okay, everyone, get a move on.”

I’ve worked with her on four productions, and she never sits down once rehearsals begin. The woman is powerful, a famous dancer who, when she was younger, traveled the world in company after company. We’re lucky she settled in the south; says she likes the weather here best.

Galloway motions for the three of us to come to her. We walk over and she dismisses Sam, “Not you Samantha. Go join the dancers.”

My chest tightens as I watch Sam give a quick smile, “Oh, okay, thank you,” bouncing off like she doesn’t mind. I know better. I’m sure Galloway does, too, but she’s got no time for hurt feelings.

“Have you met?” He and I nod. “Good. One of the reasons I cast you, Logan, is because I know you.” With a bland wave she explains, “Your ego won’t get in the way. You’re to support Asher and not pull focus. He’s the star.”

I snort, “Gee, thanks.”

She cocks an eyebrow, and I lose the sarcasm. She’s right about me if it had been any other guy. But this one checked out my Sam.

I don’t like him.

At.

All.

“Your dancing is superb, better than any one else who auditioned. But it’s your energy I really wanted. You’re the perfect nice-guy type.”

Chewing on my cheek I nod, “Awesome.” Glancing over to Sam I see her watching us, eyes on the choreographer who could have changed her life. She idolizes Galloway. We all worship the woman. Every dancer in this city has watched the videos. Nobody danced like Tasha G. back in the day.

Eyes hardened by experience in a cutthroat business, lock onto Asher. “You’re new to me, so let’s get one thing straight. I want the very best from you. Your all. No attitude like you’re better than anyone here. You might be from New York, and you might be attached to this production already, but we’re just as proud of our city as you are of yours, so don’t fight me because you think you know better. This is my show. You can be replaced.”

He smirks, “I like your style.”

Huffing through her nose, “We’ll see about that,” she turns to clap, raising her volume. “Enough chatter! Let’s get organized. I want Donovan’s family to my left. Izzy’s to my right. Marion, take center-front of your group.”

So Marion got cast as Izzy. I’d guessed, but had no confirmation until now. My eyes lock with Samantha’s as I walk to stand by my new ‘brother.’

“In the middle I want three sections. Dancers. Chorus. And dancers who also sing.” Soon everyone is in their groups, curiously looking around and memorizing who they’ll be working alongside until this thing moves north.

“Folks, I want to introduce Asher Gladstone visiting us from New York.” Marion perks up, body shifting to a more graceful posture as she examines him. They’re to play love interests, but she’s clearly enamored with where he hails from.

Good.

She’s a beauty.

Extremely talented.

Maybe she’ll capture his attention.

“He’s here because this production will be going to Broadway.”

Gasps ripple from those who didn’t know.

Samantha offers me a weak smile as our powerhouse choreographer continues, “This is a preview production. We’ll be performing in Atlanta only two weeks so that’s four for rehearsal, two performance, then some of you will be traveling with the show. Some will be replaced by Broadway talent.” A dramatic pause holds everyone’s suspense. “My advice? Become irreplaceable. Let’s begin!”

The only ones who don’t jump like someone stuck a firecracker under their butts are me and Asher.

He’s made. Locked in. Confident.

I’m wishing it had gone differently for Sam.

I’ve seen her dance a thousand times. She’s just as good as Marion. But despite being a member of the infamous Cocky Family—as everyone in Atlanta has nicknamed them—she’s the most humble talent in this room.

Ms. Galloway directs, “It’s Sunday morning, a rural town that would have twenty churches if they had more people. They don’t, so there are only two, built directly across from one another in hopes that if someone switches faiths, they’ll simply cross the street. But what’s happened is a separation between the town, an invisible line drawn center here, where you do not cross. When you leave church, you stare at who is on the other side, as if they are beneath you. Yes, just like that. Dancers and singers, you will fill in the townsfolk. For now, just stay back and watch. Families, as the play opens, you gather, eyeing each other as you converse with your preferred congregations. Marion, you will appear at the very last second. Asher, Logan, until that point, the two of you are joking around with each other. I’ve choreographed some great moves. You’re playing teenagers, as you know. The adults around you aren’t paying attention to you. So when you spot Marion—your Izzy—they will not see it. But we will.”

He nods, eyes shining like he’s finally getting excited about being here.

Galloway points, “Singers, stay where you are. You’ll be in the back, and that is where your song will begin. You are angels overlooking the scene. Your song is never heard by anyone but the audience and the dancers who come to life when you sing. Never the actors. They will not interact with you even when their own voices rise to combine.”

Everyone nods as they learn, shifting their weight, eager to impress.

“When you’re convening outside, actors and background dancers, I want low conversations, some smiles, mostly forced and watchful. I don’t want overdone theater-acting on my stage. Move now. Show me. Yes, like that. Good work. Love those glances. Pretend to be discreet but the lingering shows your judgment. Perfect. Marion, don’t be so obvious. I want you facing the audience but not that much. Be a part of the scene, don’t hog it.”

I glance to Samantha, but she’s engaged with greeting a fictional friend she hasn’t seen in a while in this imaginary world. It puts me back on track and I return to Asher, see him spotting “Izzy” just in time for Ms. Galloway to single me out.

“That’s right, Logan. Good, you see him. You’re worried. Just like that!”

I was worried you caught me staring at Sam. Don’t fuck this up, Logan.

This is your dream.