Engaging Men (18 page)

“Okay, got the ticket,” he said, coming back on the line. “It’s Metro-Air flight to Logan Airport in Boston.” He rattled off the flight numbers and times. “If you can’t get a seat next to mine, it’s not a big deal. It’s only an hour flight.”

What was he, crazy? I hated to fly at all, much less fly alone. Who was going to assure me that an air pocket was just an air pocket, and not some indication of an impending crash? “Maybe

you should book it,“ I said, realizing this was the best solution all around. Kirk makes the call, Kirk pays the bill. No questions asked.

“Ange, I got enough to worry about right now. As it is, I’ll be working all night on this program, and probably most of tomorrow. You, on the other hand, have the whole middle of the day off!”

Leave it to Kirk to remind me how empty my days were.

“Okay, okay. I’ll do it!” I said finally.

“Gosh, Ange, if it’s too much trouble, you don’t have to come…”

Don’t have to come? Don’t have to come? What kind of thing was that to say? “I thought you wanted me to come…”

He sighed. “Angela, why do you have to make everything such a big deal?”

Big deal? I was meeting his parents! I was going into major debt! Not that that was Kirk’s problem. No, it wasn’t, was it? I couldn’t expect him to solve it. And somehow that thought made me unbearably…lonely.

“Never mind, I’ll call you later,” I said, hanging up and turning to face the Committee, who no longer tried to disguise their interest in my life.

“Problems?” Doreen asked.

“No, everything’s fine.”

“You’re still going, right?” Michelle said, as if she suspected I had foiled the whole plot with my little phone tantrum.

“Of course I’m going!” I replied. “I just have to book my plane ticket.” I said, picking up the notepad where I had jotted down the flight information. “And I have to make sure I can get that Saturday shift off-—on Labor Day weekend.” Everyone wanted that Saturday off, and full-timers got first choice over us part-timers.

“Talk to Jerry,” Michelle said. Then, fishing around in her pocketbook, she pulled out a bright red lipstick and handed it to me. “And don’t forget to smile real pretty.”

As it turned out, getting the Saturday shift off was easier than I’d expected. Maybe it was the extra lipstick I had dabbed on before going in to see Jerry, or the fact that he had just gotten

a new, blond admin and was noticeably distracted by the way she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs at her desk outside his door, but he gave me the day off, no problem.

My real problem came when I called Metro-Air to discover that my ticket was going to cost me $179. I was tempted to hang up and call Amtrak, until I thought about the five or so hours I would have to spend alone, worrying about derailment. But I suppose derailment was not as big an issue as crashing into the ocean from thirty thousand feet. I was irrationally, painfully, angry at Kirk when I hung up the phone. Why couldn’t he take the train to Massachusetts, like normal people? Him and his love of air travel, the speed, efficiency of it all. All I could think about was the cost.

And all I could hope for was a return on my investment.

I discovered that there were other costs. And I wouldn’t find them on my monthly statement from Visa.

After a restless night of sleep, during which I dreamed my credit card had sprung arms and legs and was chasing me around with a hatchet, I woke up the next morning feeling even more bleary-eyed than usual. But I got up, of course, and hauled my ass to the studio, of course.

Did my little dance for the camera, of course.

Once the “recording” light blinked off and the parents rushed forward to claim their sweaty and now-rambunctious progeny, I grabbed a towel from the shelf of supplies we kept safely off camera and headed to the small dressing area I was forced to share with Colin, mostly due to the fact that Rena had to have her own office, for reasons never specified. It usually wasn’t much of a problem, however, since I was always the first one in the dressing room, eager to be on my way. And while on most days I was quickly slipping into my street clothes and contemplating the carbohydrate-laden breakfast I felt I was owed after taping, Colin always remained out there, chatting with the parents and heaping praise on each and every one of those kids. It was kind of sweet, the way he adored children. I suspected he even got a little emotional at the end of the six-week segment, when the kids were given their “fitness diplomas” complete with an official Rise and Shine workout tee, and sent on their merry way, only to be replaced by ten equally eager kids whose parents, more often than not, hoped to make them the child stars of tomorrow, no matter what amount of dysfunction the parents inflicted along the way.

But today I wasn’t so lucky. “Angela, Colin,” Rena called out as she disentangled herself from a particularly strident mother who felt it necessary to regale our producer with the details of how extraordinarily adept her child was, “Meet me in my office in five.”

Damn, I thought as I made my way to the dressing room, slipped out of my leotard and tights and climbed into jeans and a tee. A shower would have to wait until I got home. My stomach rumbled unhappily as I realized that there was a strong chance I wouldn’t make it out of the studio for at least another forty-five minutes, maybe even an hour. For on those rare occasions Rena called us into her office after a taping, it was usually because she had some “brilliant” idea for a new workout routine and felt a burning need to not only share it, but possibly even begin choreographing the new steps with Colin and me. Pulling on my sneakers and taking a long chug out of my water bottle in an attempt to quell my hunger, I accepted my fate and made my way to her office.

Colin was already there, still in the baby-blue workout shorts and bright yellow tee designed to complement my own workout duds, one long leg folded casually over the other as he sat comfortably in the chair beside Rena’s desk. Rena herself sat in her usual spot, legs folded Indian-style on her office chair, shiny black hair bound in the usual low bun at the base of her neck, harking back to her days as a dancer years ago. My eyes quickly roamed to the desk, seeking out the pad of scribbled notes Rena would more than likely go over with us, but I saw nothing other than the usual mishmash of papers and head shots of impossibly adorable children, along with a can of V8, which seemed to be Rena’s only nourishment in life, judging by her bony frame.

At the sight of me in the doorway, she sat up and gestured me hurriedly into the office. “Come in, come in, and sit down,” she said, waving toward the only other empty chair in the tiny office, which happened to be a bright orange beanbag Rena kept there to interview prospective candidates for the show.

As I struggled to find a comfortable slump to mold myself into for the duration, she said, “I was just telling Colin our good news.”

“Oh?” I said, preparing myself for whatever wondrous new idea she planned to torture us with. As my mind quickly skimmed over the cartwheeling clowns she once added to our show and the Pilates-inspired stretches that I had almost dislocated a shoulder on, I braced myself for the worst. But instead I heard something I might have described as wonderful, if I could wrap my mind around it.

“One of the networks is thinking about picking up the show,” Rena said, her thin, pointy features alight with happiness.

They were the words every actor with ambition longed to hear. After all, despite the critical acclaim Rise and Shine had garnered from parenting magazines and industry rags, a cable-access show could only garner a marginal audience at most. Suddenly my mind was filled with visions of me and Colin, our blue-and-yellow-clad images gracing everything from print ads for the show to cereal boxes (because, as with any successful network children’s show, there were bound to be some advertising tie-ins), all in the name of good health. Overwhelmed by a swell of surprise and—dismay?—I quickly glanced at Colin. I was momentarily steadied by the happy smile exploding across his perfect mouth as he raised his eyebrows at me as if to say, This is everything we’d ever dreamed of.

And it was, I realized once my insides stopped jumping. I mean, a network affiliation on the resume was sure to boost my career as well as my paycheck, which right now just about covered the cost of laundering my lovely yellow leotard.

“What network?” I heard Colin ask, and was relieved I was not in this alone. Colin was asking the right questions, while I was…well, freaking out, to be honest.

Leaning back in her chair, Rena clasped her veiny hands around one knee and said,“Well, I’m not at liberty to say. Nothing is official yet—the network is reviewing its current programming and they’ve asked to see some tapes…”

Then, as she explained that it would be another month or so before they made their decision and that the decision was dependent on many factors that were out of even Rena’s grasping control, I felt a calm settle over me that my future fate wouldn’t be decided today at least. Because I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about following the career footsteps of… Big Bird.

One subway and a bus ride later, I had gotten enough of a grip on myself to call Kirk from my cell phone. At the sound of his cheerful voice on the other end, I felt reassured.

“Hey,” I said, feeling something between excitement and dread strum through me as I prepared to tell him my news. For despite all the benefits Colin had cheerfully chattered about as we left the studio together, I still felt an anxious twinge of doubt at this turn of events.

“Hey,” he answered, “what’s up?”

“One of the networks is considering picking up Rise and Shine,” I blurted out.

During the silence that ensued as Kirk absorbed this information, I imagined all sorts of responses—a gasp, shocked laughter, a few cutting barbs about the fact that I was destined to spend my life in a yellow leotard—and was surprised at the one I got.

“That is awesome. Oh, Noodles, I’m so happy for you. Wow, this calls for a celebration. Should I make a reservation at the Blue Water Grill?”

Maybe it was the mention of the Blue Water Grill, which was the restaurant Kirk normally reserved for megacelebrations, like the time he landed his first client, that made me realize the magnitude of what was happening to me. Because suddenly I was just as thrilled as he was that my acting career, such as it was, finally had the potential to put me on the map.