Move the Stars (Something in the Way 3)

I shifted on the couch and felt Corbin’s eyes on me. The idea made more sense as a means to an end. It wasn’t the most honest way to make my career, but I couldn’t imagine any of my peers turning down an opportunity like this. I already knew Roger, who’d been chasing fame since he’d narrowly missed being cast for the Mickey Mouse Club, would scream for me to accept. I thought of the animal shelter where I’d worked up until last year when they’d had to shut down due to lack of funding. “Could I draw attention to issues I’m passionate about?” I asked.

Mike checked his watch. “That’s a question for the producers, but I think they’d welcome it within reason. Nothing too depressing. Listen, I have a dinner to get to.” He shook my hand. “I’ll be in touch, and your agent has more details. Plan on flying out soon after the show closes.”

He exited stage right, leaving Corbin and me as startled as he’d found us. I turned to Corbin, glad he’d been here for that tornado of information, but also fairly sure he’d say it was a bad idea. “You don’t think I should do it, right?” I asked.

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s a little insane. Acting for reality? And I’d have to leave you and Roger and New York and the career I’ve made here.”

“Lake, you’ll be twenty-six this year. Your life here is in limbo,” he said. “You’re single, and in a few days, you’ll be out of work. Val’s gone.”

“I’ve been trying to build a name for myself in theater, though.”

“Well, maybe this is just one way to go about it,” he pointed out. “Not all paths will be the same.”

I studied him a few moments, the way he fidgeted with his hands laced between his knees. “I’m surprised,” I said. “I would’ve thought you’d tell me to stay.”

“If I were being selfish, yeah, I would. But the truth is, Lake, sometimes I don’t know what keeps you here.”

I pulled back a little. I’d wondered the same, but I thought I’d done a pretty good job of being happy considering I was living with a permanent hole in my heart. “What do you mean? I know I haven’t found a lot of success like my friends, but that’s because I haven’t been working at this as long.”

“I see them killing themselves every day to get auditions and take dance classes and singing lessons. Roger’s on Broadway because he can’t not be. I know you do those things, too, but your friends have a fire inside them I sometimes think you’re . . . missing.”

I sat back, trying not to look as hurt as I felt. “Seriously?” I asked. “How can you say that to me, that I don’t have fire? You’ve brought me a pillow because I had to spend half a night on a concrete floor waiting for news about a show. I rehearsed for this play seven days a week, and now that we’re in season, I practically live in this theater.”

He rubbed his jaw. “Maybe I’m wrong then. It seemed like some of your passion flamed out after graduation.”

That hollowed out my chest a bit—which was a normal reaction to thinking about that time in my life. My five days with Manning, and how he’d left New York and taken a very crucial part of my heart with him. Not to mention my ability to trust and love. It was no surprise to me or Val I hadn’t had a healthy relationship since.

Since December that year, I’d been in motion. I ran every day, usually between auditions. I worked for a temp agency, picking up administrative work all over the city when I wasn’t performing. I put my heart and soul into my nights at the theater. In the beginning, I hadn’t been able to stop and think or my mind would spiral back to what my life would’ve been if I hadn’t left after the wedding. What would’ve happened if I’d graduated USC and gone to grad school.

I’d been on the go so long, chasing an exciting and exhilarating career—those things had been further from my mind than normal lately. I wished the same was true about Manning. I thought of him constantly—what I’d lost that day he’d left New York.

What he’d lost several months later.

All the pain between us seemed too great to overcome. “I don’t want to leave New York,” I said quietly. “I think I’ll say no to the audition.”

“Lake.” Corbin sat forward and paused, as if he were considering how to phrase what he had to say. “Don’t say no out of fear.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“I don’t believe that. You’re an adult now, and that puts you just as much in the wrong as them. You have to face your family. It’s time.”