“I know.” He nodded toward the piano. “Listen to you, man, … you sound amazing. You going out for American Idol this year, or what?”
Connor laughed. “Actually … yeah. This summer.”
“No way!” Cody gave Connor an enthusiastic pat on his shoulder. “That’s awesome, bro, … you’ll blow ‘em away.”
Jenny watched from a few feet away. She loved this, how with Cody it felt like no time had passed. This was their reward for opening their home and hearts to Cody in the first place. He would always be a part of them — regardless of time passed.
“You gotta keep me posted.” Cody shook his head, his grin reaching easily to his eyes. “You’ll knock it out of the park. Seriously … you sing like that and we’ll be watching you on TV.”
They were halfway down the hall, Jenny tailing the guys and headed toward the kitchen when Ricky spotted Cody. “What?” He shouted the word and jumped up. Ricky seemed to grow taller every day, and now he lumbered up to them, all big feet and long legs. “I can’t believe you’re here!” He threw himself in Cody’s arms and the two hugged and slapped each other’s backs.
“What happened to you? You’re huge!” Cody stood back and studied Ricky. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of passing me up.”
“He’s six-foot-two.” Connor laughed. “Crazy for a thirteen-year-old.”
“Yeah,” Ricky laughed, his expression proud of the fact. “You still have me beat by an inch, but not for long.”
Cody raised his brow. “Not if you’re this tall at thirteen.”
“Come on … Shawn and Justin are playing football out back.” Ricky ran ahead. “Wait till I tell them!”
Cody grinned at Jenny and Connor. “I guess I’m playing football.”
“Me too.” Connor ran for the stairs. “I’ll change and be right down.”
“Like old times.” Jenny hoped he could see in her smile how glad she was that he’d come. “It’s good to have you home, Cody.”
“Thanks.” He started toward the back door. “It’s good to be here.” With a quick step he jogged off to the backyard.
Jenny watched him go. Ricky gathered Justin, Shawn, and BJ, and like he’d never left, Cody organized them and threw the first pass to Ricky.
“And,” Ricky shouted, “he catches it for a first down!”
The other guys clapped, and Shawn began to run, his hand outstretched. “Hit me up, Ricky, … right here!”
Connor came running down the stairs dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and flew out the back door to join the others. Jenny couldn’t pull herself away. The scene was like being back in the past, as if she’d taken a ride in Devin Blake’s time machine — the one Ashley had told her about — to one of the happiest moments of her life: when Cody lived with them and growing up seemed like a lifetime away for all her boys. So much had changed, and now Connor was ready to take on his senior year, ready to head into the world and pursue his dreams. And the other boys were only getting taller and older, closer to the front door and the plans God had for them.
But for now, the boys out back reminded her of God’s goodness, His ability to give her gifts like this when she least expected them. There was a sound behind her, and she turned to see Jim walk in through the garage door. “Hey,” he grinned at her. “Is that Cody’s truck outside?”
“It is.” She turned and watched the boys again. “Like he never left.”
Jim joined her and gave her a quick kiss as he looked at the game of catch going on outside. “He looks good.”
“He’s growing up.” Jenny leaned her head on his shoulder. “He wants to talk to you. About football.”
“Really?” He looked touched by the fact. “Sometimes enough weeks pass I wonder if he even remembers us.”
“Jim …” She raised her eyebrows at him, her voice softer than before. She tapped his chest a few times. “You know deep inside here that could never be true. Cody won’t ever forget us.”
He looked past her to the boys once more. “You’re right.” He smiled. “I’m glad he came by.”
Jenny set about making dinner — leftover chicken and rice. She’d made enough that she easily had plenty for Cody to join them, and once it was heated up she called out to them. She lingered at the doorway, enjoying once more the look of her boys laughing together with Cody, the way they slung their arms over each others’ shoulders and laughed while they headed inside with the football. She looked at Cody as the boys filed past. “Stay for dinner?”
He hesitated, but only for a few seconds. “You have enough?”
“Always enough for you.” Ricky put his arm around Cody’s neck and gave him a light punch in the arm. “Even if I caught more passes than you.”
“He was easy on you, bud, …” Justin grinned. “Don’t get a big head, now.”
The boys made their way to the back bathroom to wash up, and Cody spotted Jim in the other room reading the newspaper. Cody went to him and immediately Jim set his paper down and hugged him, much the way Jenny had. Like Cody was their long lost son — which after this much time, was close to the truth.
They ate dinner then, laughing over stories from Clear Creek High. “We miss you on the field.” Connor took a forkful of rice and waited until he had swallowed it. “No one coaches us quarterbacks like you, Cody. Coach Taylor’s too busy with the rest of the team.”
“He’s a very good coach.” Cody looked from Connor to Jim. “I keep thinking how lucky I am to have played for you … and to have coached with Ryan Taylor. It’s amazing how much I learned.” He raised his fork in the air. “And how much I still have to learn.”
Jenny watched Jim to see if he might say anything about Ryan Taylor and the possible promotion he might be getting. But when Jim said nothing, Jenny kept quiet too. The Colts were looking to bring in a new coach. Ryan was a former NFL player, with state play-off success at the high school coaching level. He was definitely being considered for the position. Something even Ryan didn’t know.
Like always, the kids made short order of dinner, and the cleanup began with all the Flanigan boys working together. As they did, Jim and Cody headed to the game table in the family room. Jenny couldn’t hear everything they said after that, but Jim pulled out paper and pencils and for an hour the two of them talked intently — taking turns drawing up what must’ve been plays and drills, ways Cody’s summer camp could be productive and effective.
Jenny took a spot at the kitchen bar where she could keep them in view. How would Bailey feel about how easily Cody had fit back into their lives? If only for a day? Once he was gone Jenny planned to call her. She would be on stage still at this point, but later they could get on Skype … talk face to face.
As Jim and Cody finished their talk, as they laughed together and put their heads together, and dreamed about football side by side, Jenny prayed for Cody. That God would continue to bring him back, and that Cody would work things out with Bailey. So that at the very least they might be friends. Because of all the things Jenny could imagine about the future, there was one thing she couldn’t think about.
The idea of never seeing Cody Coleman again.
Thirteen
BAILEY WAS DANCING SO HARD SHE COULD FEEL THE SWEAT ON her back. It was the last number of the show, the last performance of June, and as she finished the final lines of the song, she felt a sense of elation well up within her. She was doing this! Finally … after two months she was keeping up.
The number ended and the cast took their bows. Bailey tried to sense whether any of her castmates noticed the difference. Two guys who took curtain call with her smiled in her direction, a little bigger than usual. Or maybe it was her imagination. As they stepped off stage, one of them, Gerald Gear, touched her elbow.
“Ella, … great work tonight.” Gerald’s expression held the familiar arrogance despite his smile. “You looked like … like you belonged.”
Ella. Her character name in the movie Unlocked. The compliment went down like dry bread, but Bailey s
miled in return. Gerald’s buddy Stefano was watching, and she didn’t want to give either of them a reason to see her as easily offended. “Thanks.” She couldn’t let the hurt show, not now.
Gerald and Stefano walked off together without another backward glance at Bailey. A sigh rattled from her and took with it all the good she’d been feeling about her performance. What would she have to do to be accepted by the cast, to make them see she wasn’t here only because of her movie credit? She grabbed a towel from her bag and wiped her neck. She was about to change out of her costume when she heard someone come up behind her.
“Bailey.”
The voice belonged to Francesca. Bailey turned in a hurry, surprised. The director rarely sought them out after a show. “Yes?”
“Get dressed and then find me in my office.” Her smile was flat. “We need to talk.”
Bailey’s throat went dry, and her heart flipped into an unfamiliar rhythm. “Yes, ma’am.” She turned back to her bag but she couldn’t help but wonder. How many of the girls in the dressing room had heard Francesca’s request? They had to be thinking the same thing she was: That somehow — even on a night when she thought she’d nailed it — she’d done something wrong. Her performance hadn’t measured up to the others.
She dressed and put her costume on the appropriate hanger. As she did, the dressing room fell quiet. The girls didn’t talk to her or to each other, which left an awkward silence thick over the room. Bailey tried to stay brave. Dear Lord, I don’t know what I did wrong, but there must be something. Help me … give me courage to hear whatever Francesca has to tell me. Please, God.
Bailey gathered her things, left the dressing room, and headed for Francesca’s office. Along the way she thought about taking a minute to pray longer, to check her Bible app on her phone for a verse that would give her strength. But there wasn’t time. Instead she prayed once more, asking God to be with her, and like that, she was knocking at the director’s door.
Francesca waved her inside. “Have a seat.” Again her smile felt more polite than purposeful.
Bailey’s hair was still damp from the show, and now that she was here — face-to-face with her director in the air-conditioned office — she felt a chill run from her neck down her body. She resisted the urge to shiver. “You … wanted to talk?”
“Yes.” Francesca folded her hands and planted her elbows on the desk in front of her. She leveled her gaze at Bailey and held it for a few long seconds. “You were very good tonight.”
Relief washed over Bailey, but she didn’t let it show. She was a professional. She was supposed to be good. “Thank you.”
Francesca breathed out, and the sound was filled with ambiguity. “I have to be honest. Until this week, I was planning to let you go this Friday.” Disappointment colored in the lines around her eyes. “I expected so much more from you, Bailey Flanigan. But maybe you’re too young. Most of our cast is in their midtwenties or older.”
Bailey heard the sound of her heartbeat in her eardrums. Francesca expected more? And she seemed too young for the job? How was this happening? If the director hadn’t been happy with her, why hadn’t she said something sooner? She squirmed in her seat, not sure what to say. Sure Francesca had been tough during rehearsals, sometimes singling her out to work harder on a certain move or sing the words of a song more clearly. But she’d never led Bailey to believe she wasn’t making the grade, that her job in the Hairspray cast was in jeopardy.
The director didn’t wait for Bailey’s response. “You must know that we didn’t hire you only because you could dance and sing. Your name, your involvement in the movie Unlocked — all made us believe you could fill seats.” She made a noncommittal face and tilted her head slowly from side to side like she was weighing the reality. “It’s possible. Our numbers are up a few percentage points. But not like we expected.”
The news hit Bailey like successive bricks, each one bigger than the last. She had been on the verge of being let go? And only her performances this week saved her? Even at that, the seats weren’t as full as they needed to be, so what was this meeting for? The chills from earlier were gone. Instead heat flooded her cheeks. Worst of all the grumblings she’d heard from the cast were true. She’d been brought in because of Unlocked. She fought against a rush of anger. The director could’ve told her. At least then she wouldn’t have been under some delusion that she’d earned her way. “I’m sorry.” Humiliation dimmed her voice. She still felt like she was asleep, stuck in some nightmare. “I didn’t know.”
Francesca waved her hand around, like the entire situation frustrated her. “That’s my fault.” Another loud breath. “I’ve tried to bring your stage abilities to another level in practice. But, well, until this week I wasn’t seeing it.” She lowered her hands and picked up a document on her desk. “You signed a year-long contract, but frankly … we might not be in business a year from now. And as you know,” she gave Bailey a pointed look, “your contract can be cancelled if you’re not getting the job done.”
“Yes, ma’am.” So what about today? She wanted to ask. Was her position on the cast sure? At least for another few weeks if not for the remainder of her contract? A year felt like a long time in light of Francesca’s talk. Bailey tried to look calm. Be professional, she told herself. Stay professional. But she felt like running or crying or calling home and booking the next flight back to Indianapolis. She was doing her best, and that hadn’t been good enough. No wonder she’d doubted her abilities.
A handful of seconds passed, and Francesca sat back and folded her arms in front of her. “I want you to go home for the holiday weekend. Spend the Fourth with your family or friends. And while you’re there I want you to think about whether or not you belong here.” Her words came sharp and fast like automatic gunfire. “Whether you want to belong here.”
“I do.” Bailey couldn’t stop herself. She sat up straighter, her shock and defeat forgotten for the moment. “I mean, I do want to be here.” Now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop herself. “I’ll work hard. I know what to do now, and I’ll keep doing it better. I promise.”
Francesca’s expression didn’t change. “You’ll have to prove that. After you take a few days off.” She went on to explain that the cast would use on-call dancers to fill her spot. “Think about how hard you’ll have to work. Don’t come back unless you’re ready to give me everything you have, Bailey. Everything.” She paused, sizing up Bailey the way a principal might look over a delinquent student. “I believed in you. But the only reason you’re still on this cast is because of your performances this week. They were better.” The director angled her head and thought for a few seconds. As if she was possibly doubting her earlier assessment and maybe Bailey wasn’t actually better. But the moment passed and she continued. “When you return … if you return … I want much more from you.” She exhaled, looking suddenly exhausted by the entire situation. She offered a tired smile that wasn’t quite sympathetic. “Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bailey remembered the warning from Tim’s girlfriend: Francesca was tough. But Bailey had no idea how tough until today. She refused the tears stinging the corners of her eyes. “I’ll take the break, and I’ll be stronger when I come back. I will.”
“Very well.” Francesca stood and opened her office door. “I will reevaluate again after the Fourth. Oh, and another thing.” Her smile dissolved. “You aren’t fitting in well with the rest of the Hairspray family. A few of them have talked to me about it.” Her expression said she believed them. “They get the sense you’re judging them.”
“No, ma’am.” Bailey stood and tried to keep her balance. “I care about them. All of them.” She felt light-headed and dizzy, the reality of her shaky place on the cast still making its way to a place in her mind where she could fully grasp it.
“Maybe show that then.”
Bailey could hardly believe what she was hearing. She felt embarrassed and humiliated, unsure of how she’d let the director down or why p
eople thought she was judging them, and most of all why no one had told her this to her face before. As she walked out, Bailey looked around, but this part of the backstage was empty. How many of the cast had seen her walk into Francesca’s office? They probably all knew this was coming — they knew even though she didn’t. Because they were professionals and along with Francesca they must have seen the lack of experience in Bailey.
Her heart slipped another notch. No wonder some of her castmates whispered about her.
When she was on the other side of Francesca’s office door, another thought hit her. She’d have to call home and tell her parents now, tell them that she wasn’t making it on Broadway. That basically she had one chance left. The tears she fought earlier were back, and she closed her eyes to stop them. I didn’t see this coming, God … I really thought … I thought this was where You wanted me, but now … She couldn’t think about it. Not here. She pushed everything from her mind but the one detail that mattered. She needed to get out of here. No way she wanted to face anyone from the cast now.
She gathered her things and called the car service at her apartment building. Her ride would be there in five minutes. As she hung up, again the situation clouded her heart. She was practically failing at the one thing she’d felt driven to do, the one dream she felt sure God had given her. Bailey held her breath for a moment, drawing on a strength that wasn’t her own. Whether she was alone in the building or not, she couldn’t break down here. Francesca might see her, and then she’d know for sure Bailey wasn’t ready for Broadway.
She turned the corner to the brick hallway that led to the stage door, but what she saw made her stop short. Chrissy was a dozen yards away, bent over and leaning against the wall. She looked pale, like she was about to pass out.
“Chrissy?” Bailey hurried closer and set her things down. She put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She straightened and ran her hand through her hair. “Just tired … long night.”