Francesca’s words rang in Bailey’s heart and mind. If she cared for the cast, she should show them. Bailey moved so she was directly in front of Chrissy. She put her hands on her shoulders and looked straight at her. “You need a doctor …”
“I don’t.” Again she looked weak, like she might not make it to the door. She tried to smile at Bailey but it fell short. Like she couldn’t muster up the energy. “I was up late. That’s all.”
Bailey searched desperately through her options. Chrissy wasn’t telling the truth; that much was clear. She looked too thin and beyond tired. Makeup could hide the dark circles under her eyes on stage. But now, after a full show, there was no hiding the signs. “You’re not okay.” Bailey kept her tone gentle, but she hoped her urgency showed in her expression.
“I am.” She drew in a deep breath and worked hard to shake off the struggle. “Some days are just harder than others.”
A uselessness came over Bailey. Chrissy wasn’t the only one of her castmates in trouble. A number of them were into pills and smoking pot. Whatever it took to relax after a performance, or stay thin enough to fit in the costumes. Bailey was young, Francesca had pointed that out. But she couldn’t stand by and watch Chrissy hurt herself by not eating. She reached into her bag and pulled out a protein bar. “Here,” she handed it to her friend. “Maybe if you ate something … you’d have more energy.”
“I … I already ate.” Chrissy stared at the cement floor for a long moment and then looked right at Bailey.
In that single instant Bailey could feel that they shared a tragic, terrible knowing. The fact that Chrissy wasn’t going to eat, and the sad reality that Bailey could do nothing about it. “I know, Chrissy … what you’re dealing with. You can’t hide it.” Bailey kept her voice soft, as unthreatening as possible. “Let me call someone. There are people who can —”
“Listen.” Chrissy’s tone was just short of angry, and her eyes shone with a sudden intensity. “I’m getting help, okay? I told you,” she seemed to work to bring her voice back in check, “I’m fine.”
Chrissy gathered her things, and though she walked more slowly than usual, the moment of exhaustion seemed to have passed. Bailey kept at her pace, and when they reached the door she saw her ride waiting for her. “Come on.” She motioned to the car. “We’ll drop you off.”
Her friend lived a few blocks away in a shared flat, but usually she walked with a group of actresses. Tonight everyone else had gone ahead. Chrissy hesitated, as if maybe she didn’t want even five more minutes of prodding from Bailey. But after a few seconds she shrugged and allowed a partial smile. “Okay. Thanks.”
Before the driver let Chrissy out, Bailey made one last attempt. “I’ll pray for you.” Bailey watched her friend’s eyes, but she kept them turned away. “If you’re in trouble, Chrissy … I’m here.”
Chrissy nodded slowly and lifted her face to Bailey just briefly. “Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
And with that she stepped out and hurried off. She looks stronger now, Bailey told herself. And if she was being honest, then Chrissy was already getting help. Still, Bailey wished there was something else she could do. The ride back to the apartment was quick, and the Kellers were asleep by the time she crept inside. When she reached her room and shut the door, she grabbed her journal.
Dear Lord, she wrote, I feel like I’m failing at everything. My role on Broadway … my ability to help Chrissy … my impact on the cast. Nothing’s working. And now I have to tell my mom and dad. Bailey reread her words and a sick feeling came over her. They had gone to so much trouble to get her here, and they had believed in her completely. They’d even flown the whole family out to see her show.
She pictured how it felt, having them there, knowing that they were watching her perform the way they once watched her perform for Christian Kids Theater. They had all gathered around her afterward and told her how well she’d done. But even then — in the basement of her heart — Bailey had quietly doubted her abilities. As a performer … as a friend … as a light for God. Back then she wondered if maybe she wasn’t good enough.
Tonight she had her answer.
She wasn’t.
Fourteen
SLEEP DIDN’T COME EASY AFTER FRANCESCA’S WARNING AND Chrissy’s refusal to accept her help. But Bailey avoided talking to her parents or to Brandon. She was too embarrassed to know what to say. Anyway, that could come later. Now already she was back at the theater, ready for another show.
She walked toward the dressing room and stopped before she reached the door. Two of the actors from the show were talking, their tones sharp.
“I don’t care who she is.” The voice belonged to the girl who played Tracy, the show’s lead. “She’s only here because of her Brandon Paul connection. People loved Unlocked and now their curiosity brings them to New York to see if Bailey can perform on Broadway.”
“Which she can’t.” The other girl laughed. Bailey couldn’t make out her voice.
“Well,” the first girl chuckled. “Let’s just say there are a hundred Broadway dancers who could take her spot. People who could use the money.”
“Exactly.” The girl clucked her tongue. “I hate the trend in New York, producers bringing in actors with no Broadway experience just because they have a name. Let her work for it like everyone else.”
Bailey intentionally dropped her dance bag. At the sound, the conversation on the other side of the wall stopped. She grabbed her gear and hesitated before walking in. “Hey.” She smiled at them, determined that they wouldn’t see the way their remarks hurt her.
“Hey.” They answered her in unison and quickly fell quiet, turning their attention to preparing for that night’s performance.
Bailey couldn’t imagine how hard she’d have to work, how much better she’d have to become on stage before she had their respect. But combined with Francesca’s comments from last night and the whispers she’d heard since she started, she felt like a pariah.
The thoughts plagued her then and that Saturday morning as she headed to LaGuardia by herself, and even as she shared a happy reunion with her family at the Indianapolis airport.
Bailey figured she’d wait until the picnic to talk to her mom more in depth about the way things were falling apart back in New York. So far she hadn’t told anyone about the situation, and only Chrissy had noticed there was something wrong with her the last few days. Brandon was overseas for a week as part of the shoot for his current film. He planned to call when he could, but they hadn’t talked since Wednesday.
Now it was the morning of July Fourth, and as Bailey woke up in her old bed and stretched out her legs, she felt a peace that had eluded her most of the week. With all that was happening, she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to go back. She sat up and stepped onto the thick cushion of carpet. Her room still looked just like she’d left it.
She walked to the window and looked out across their manicured front lawn, the winding drive, and the full trees that lined either side. She had a million happy memories from past July Fourths. She and her brothers chasing each other across the grass with squirt guns, or her parents hosting a barbecue for all their friends.
But the only memory that played in her mind, the one she woke up thinking about was last July Fourth. Her family had gone to Lake Monroe with the Baxters. Bailey had broken up with Tim Reed by then, but she hadn’t told Cody. When he showed up at the picnic, she wasn’t sure if they’d have a moment alone to talk, but they’d taken a walk around the lake and along the way everything changed.
They admitted feelings they’d had for years, and in a moment she could still remember in vivid detail, Cody had kissed her. When they returned from that walk, the pretending was over. Everything they felt about each other was out in the open and there would be no looking back. At least that’s the way Bailey felt about it. But only a few months later Cody was back to being distant, pulling his usual running act. The one that had finally and completely separated them.
Bailey
sighed. Dear Lord, I can’t do this to myself … not every Fourth of July. Bailey let the prayer echo in her heart for a few seconds. A sad laugh came from her. It wasn’t only the Fourth of July. She thought about him every day. Or most days, anyway. Every time she was on Facebook, and when she walked into her room at the Kellers’ — always aware of the framed photograph on the floor under her bed, right against the baseboard, getting dusty.
She sat up and stretched as her mom knocked on the door and opened it. “Good morning.” She smiled. “Another Fourth.”
“Yes.” Bailey yawned and pulled her knees up close to her chest. She patted the spot on the bed beside her. “Come talk.”
Life had been so busy lately, between shows and rehearsals and her mom’s schedule with the kids and her writing. They hadn’t talked for more than five minutes in a week. Her mom stepped inside and took the spot next to Bailey. She breathed in deep and looked out the window. “Should be a hot one.”
“Always.” Bailey smiled.
“I was hoping you were awake.” Her mom turned to her. “I haven’t had a minute to tell you, but … Cody stopped by last week. Didn’t call … just drove up.” She smiled, and the sadness in her expression was clear. “It was nice seeing him again.”
“He stopped by?” Bailey sat up straighter. “That’s sort of a big deal.”
“I know.” Her mom managed a sheepish shrug. “Seriously every time we talked I didn’t think about it until we hung up. I hate that part about you living so far away. The everyday stuff falls through the cracks.” She angled her head. “I figured we’d talk longer this weekend, but now you’re here.”
The sick feeling hit her instantly. This was the day she needed to tell her mom the reason she was home. “Yeah. I have things to tell you too.” She tried to picture Cody dropping in. “So why’d he stop by?”
“He wanted to talk to Dad. About football and camp, drills … that sort of thing.”
“Hmmm.” Bailey’s heart felt raw and maybe a little jealous. “What about the boys? Did they see him?”
“They did. They played a little football out back, and then Cody stayed for dinner and he and your dad talked after that.”
Bailey hugged her knees a little closer and wrestled with her emotions. “Was he nice?”
“Very.” A sigh eased from her mother’s lips. “He misses the boys and us. And he misses you, Bailey. You have to know that.”
“Not really.” Bailey didn’t feel bitter, but she had to be honest. “He hasn’t called or texted.” She raised one shoulder and let it fall again. “How much could he miss me?”
“He asked about you.”
Bailey hated the way her heart jumped. “What did he ask?” She kept her tone neutral. Not that she wanted to hide her feelings from her mom. She wanted to hide them from herself.
“How you were doing, how the show was going.” Her mom smiled big, her eyes kind. “I told him you were doing great. The best dancer on Broadway.”
The sick feeling grew, and her mind raced. Cody had been here, at her house? For most of an evening? And he’d asked about her? She should’ve been here instead of making a fool of herself on Broadway. Then they could’ve taken a walk and figured out what went wrong. What really went wrong. Bailey waited. She didn’t want to ask her next question, but finally she couldn’t stop herself. “Did … he talk about Cheyenne?”
“The friend in the car accident?”
“His girlfriend, Mom.” Bailey’s voice was even, without a hint of sarcasm. “Did he mention her? Or did you ask?” “I didn’t ask.”
“So he mentioned her.” It wasn’t a question.
“Not really.” Her mom’s tone was gentle. “He told me they spent time together. That’s it.” Her mom had hesitated. “He asked about you and Brandon.”
Bailey felt her breath leave her for a second or two. “Okay.” She paused. “What did you tell him?” She didn’t like the idea of her mom talking to Cody. After how he’d treated her, she felt like she needed her mom on her side. There wasn’t room in the situation for her mom to be both Cody’s ally and hers.
“Don’t worry.” Empathy shaded her expression. “I said Brandon and you talk. Nothing more.”
“Good.” Bailey felt relieved. Of course her mom understood. “He could reach me if he wanted to.”
“You’re right.” Her mom looked like she wanted to say more, but she hesitated and the change in her eyes said she was switching topics. “So what’s new in New York?”
Bailey felt her heart drop to the floor. She’d dreaded this since Francesca’s talk with her, but now there was no better time to break the news. She exhaled and searched her mom’s eyes. “It’s not good.”
Her mother showed no obvious reaction. She clearly didn’t worry that Bailey had made some tragic decision, or gotten into trouble. Instead she put her hand on Bailey’s shoulder. “Okay. I’m listening.”
“Well,” Bailey hadn’t thought she’d cry, but suddenly her emotions turned to liquid and filled her eyes. “Francesca pulled me aside … and told me I wasn’t cutting it. I need to get better or …” Her voice cracked and she hung her head.
“Bailey …” the shock in her mom’s voice was genuine. “What are you talking about? You’re wonderful on that stage.”
She shook her head. “No. Not … not like I need to be.”
“Oh, honey.” Her mom took her in her arms and hugged her. “That’s ridiculous. You won the part over hundreds of dancers.”
A quiet sniff came from Bailey, and again she shook her head. Her throat was too tight to speak.
“You did … I was there, sweetheart.” She ran her hand along Bailey’s back. “The director’s just being tough on you. She has a reputation for that.”
Bailey wiped at a few tears on her cheeks. “It wasn’t that.” She wanted to cry for an hour, let out all the feelings she’d bottled up over the last week. But she had to explain. “I didn’t tell you before, but … I had a feeling I wasn’t keeping up. Like … I don’t know, like the level was over my head.”
Her mom’s body tensed, and for a moment Bailey thought she might disagree again. But instead she waited, letting Bailey finish.
“They were going to let me go.” She drew back and searched her mother’s face. “Last week would’ve been my last if,” she sniffed again, “if I hadn’t found another level.”
The surprise and shock hit her mom then. “I can’t believe that.”
“I can.” That was the hardest part. Bailey had wondered if she wasn’t quite where she needed to be, but when no one told her so, she figured she was at least good enough to stay.
“I guess, I don’t get it.” Her mother folded her arms, clearly baffled. “You won the part over so many girls.”
“No.” Bailey shook her head. Her tears were under control again, but the heaviness in her heart remained. “They hired me because of Unlocked. Because of my connection with Brandon. That’s what Francesca said.”
A soft groan came from her mom. “Oh, Bailey, … I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She tried to find a smile. “I’m doing my best. I rehearse longer than anyone, and I feel like I’m getting better. But that’s why I’m home. She wanted me to take a break and think about how badly I wanted it.”
Resignation came over her mom. “And?”
“I still want it. But I have to get better. Francesca told me that.”
Again her mom leaned in and hugged her, longer this time. “If you want it, then you’ll get it. I know you.” When they pulled back, her mother put her hands on either side of her face. “God has good plans for you, honey … if Broadway isn’t what He has in mind, He’ll show you.”
“I know. Thanks.” They were quiet for a few seconds, Bailey still wrestling with the embarrassment of her director’s words. But that wasn’t all. “The cast is still acting weird. Not really talking to me … But at least I know why.”
“The Unlocked thing?”
“Exactly. It’s like they
all know I’m not good enough, and that I won the part because of the movie.” Bailey stood and opened the window. Immediately a breeze drifted into the room and with it the sound of finches and robins outside. Bailey turned and leaned against the windowsill. “And I’m still not making even a little impact on anyone else.”
Bailey told her mom about Chrissy and the dancers who did drugs or drank. “Chrissy’s anorexic. I’m almost positive.” Bailey felt tired imagining going back to New York on Tuesday. “She says she’s getting help, but what if she’s not?”
Her mom was slow with her answer. “If people don’t want help, we can’t force them.” She stood and joined Bailey near the window. For a long time she waited, like she was thinking through the options, any way Bailey might’ve actually been able to help Chrissy. “You could tell Francesca your concerns.”
“Yeah.” Bailey wasn’t sure. “She leads rehearsals. You’d think she could see for herself.”
Again they were quiet. “Keep praying … God will make your purpose clear in His time. He really will.” Her mom gave her another long hug. “You’ll be fine. It’s okay if you have to work hard to keep your spot.”
“That’s what I told Francesca. I’ll work harder than anyone.”
Her mom checked her watch. “Come down and help me with the picnic when you’re ready.” She smiled. “Be in the moment, Bailey. We’re all glad you’re home.”
“Me too. Thanks for understanding.” For the first time that morning the sadness eased. “You really are my best friend, Mom.”
Her mother’s smile said what no words could. “Oh … and Brandon Paul sent a fruit basket … wished us all a happy Fourth.” She raised her brow and uttered a quiet laugh. “That boy doesn’t miss a beat.”
As her mom left the room, a smile played on Bailey’s lips for the first time that morning. A smile because Brandon had a way of making her troubles seem small and insignificant. She missed him more than she realized until now. A fruit basket? How thoughtful was that? Today — instead of worrying about her role on Broadway or thinking about the texts and calls she wasn’t getting from Cody — she would focus on something she did have.