“Exactly.” Bailey narrowed her eyes, trying to see the tiny grid of streets that wound their way through the maze of cement and brick and rebar. “If I make it … I wonder where I’ll live.” She sat back in her seat, her eyes on her hands. She’d thought about this every day. Every hour, really. But she hadn’t wanted to talk about it before now. It was enough to focus on the audition, without imagining what might happen if she really won a part.”
Her mom didn’t say anything right away. Proof that this was something she’d thought about, too. That’s how it was with the two of them. They could talk about anything at length. But when a conversation was more difficult, when the answers weren’t easily at hand, they didn’t say a word. Just a supportive silence that didn’t need a rush of words and ideas. A minute or so passed before her mom reached over and squeezed her hand. “I know this much,” her voice was low, her head angled toward Bailey’s. “If God opens the doors for you to win a part on Broadway, then He’ll show you where to live.” She peered out the window at the city once more. “No matter how intimidating New York City might be from up here.”
“From down there, too.” Bailey giggled, and she could hear the nervousness in her voice. “I mean, I love New York, but it’s a crazy place.”
They let the conversation stall, and Bailey guessed her mom was as lost in thought as she was. Would she live in a tiny apartment blocks from the theater, or would she share a place with someone in the cast? Would the show let out sometime around ten o’clock each night only to send her walking through the dark streets alone? Or off to the subway and a place in Jersey or Queens? Bailey felt the beginning of knots in her stomach, and she smiled.
I know what You’re telling me, God … I can hear You.
She closed her eyes and let the Lord’s words resonate in her heart: Daughter, do not worry about tomorrow … tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
She had been memorizing Bible verses lately and this was one she’d taken on a week ago, in light of her pending audition. Don’t worry about tomorrow. How great God was to bring it to mind now — when she could hardly draw a breath for imagining how she’d go from living with her family to venturing into a city like New York by herself. Okay, Father. I hear You. I won’t worry.
Besides, she was getting way ahead of herself. She hadn’t had the audition yet, and there were bound to be a thousand girls going for the handful of roles. Confidence was one thing, but worrying about housing this far out was a little ridiculous. She blinked her eyes open as the plane shuddered, tossed about in a patch of turbulent air. The aircraft made a few solid thuds, and then the flight path seemed to smooth out. Once the plane was on the ground the thrill of all that lay ahead helped her stay in the moment. That and the Bible verse from earlier.
They caught a cab into the city, and Bailey held onto the back of the seat in front of them. Their driver was a happy guy from Zimbabwe with the crazy ability to accelerate to breathtaking speeds and then stop on a dime for a light or a pedestrian. “Gotta love the city pace,” he called out as he drove, his eyes alternating between the road and the rearview mirror. “Fast, fast, fast.”
Bailey and her mom shared a look. Fast, indeed. They reached the Marriott Marquis in no time, checked in, and hung up their clothes. On the way back down to the lobby, Bailey stood as close as she could to the curved glass wall of the high-speed elevator. Once, a long time ago, she and Cody had taken a walk behind her parents’ house and they’d talked about skydiving. “I want to do it someday,” he squinted at the sky. “Jump from a plane and soar down to earth.”
The idea sounded terrifying at the time, but with Cody it at least seemed possible. The elevator sped smoothly twenty-three floors back down to the shiny glitz of the hotel lobby. Bailey felt the rush as the floor seemed to rise up to meet them. Just like skydiving. Without Cody it was as close as she was going to get — for now anyway. She tucked the thought away and smiled at her mom. “I have an idea.”
“What?”
“Let’s find a Yankees hat for Ricky. That’s his new favorite team.”
“Of course.” Bailey laughed. “That’s all he’s talked about for weeks.”
It was only two in the afternoon, so they had plenty of time. The air outside was crisp and cold in the shade, but the cool weather had done nothing to deter the people. Times Square was so crowded they had to work to stay together. They headed south on Broadway, staying with the flow of people. Along the way they passed a guy with a golden python draped around his shoulders and a sweet-souled old man playing “Amazing Grace” on a clarinet, a bucket of change at his feet. Bailey and her mom stopped and listened for a minute, pulling themselves out of the crowd long enough to pay attention.
Her life would be like this if she lived here: looking for moments amidst the insanity to hear God’s voice and the message He might have for her. Amazing grace … how sweet the sound … Yes, the message was sweet — especially here in the middle of Times Square with humanism and vanity and quest for monetary success dominating the general order of the day. They all needed God’s grace, but only every so often did one of the people in the passing crowd even look in the direction of the clarinet player. Bailey breathed in deeply and savored the sound of the man’s song. I once was lost, but now am found … was blind but now I see. God’s grace alone had given her this second chance, this opportunity to shine for Him at a Broadway audition.
Bailey left a five dollar tip in the man’s bucket, and he nodded at her as they walked off. “There’s not a lot of that in New York City,” her mom slipped an arm around her shoulder. “If you live here, you’ll have to look for God.”
“I know. I’ve been thinking about that.” The worry from earlier tried to clutch at Bailey’s heart, but she refused it. “I keep telling myself that He wouldn’t lead me here without also providing. I believe that.”
Her mom smiled. “I believe it too.”
The afternoon flew by, and they found the hat for Ricky and a handful of T-shirts for the other boys. An early dinner at the Olive Garden gave them time to talk about tomorrow. They had barely been seated when Bailey felt her phone vibrate. She pulled it from her back jeans pocket and for half a second she wondered if it might be Cody. Maybe he’d heard about her audition and wanted to tell her he was praying for her, believing in her …
But as the phone’s screen came into view, she reminded herself that Cody hadn’t been in touch with her for months. She smiled as she opened the text message. It was from her old friend Tim Reed.
Big audition tomorrow, right? Can we have breakfast in the morning? At your hotel maybe?
“Who is it?” Her mom took a sip of her ice water and settled back in the chair, looking as tired as Bailey felt. They hadn’t walked more than a few miles, but the city had a way of wearing out a person. Just the pace of it.
“Tim.” Bailey read the text out loud. “What do you think? Do we have time for breakfast?”
“Maybe.” Jenny pulled an itinerary from her purse. “We need to be at the studio at nine … so, yes, if Tim wants to meet us at the hotel restaurant at eight, that should work.”
Bailey texted back the time and location.
Perfect.
Tim’s response came almost immediately, and Bailey read the message out loud. “He says he’ll bring his girlfriend. He’s dying for us to meet her. I guess she knows Francesca Tilly, so she can give me pointers for tomorrow.”
Her mom raised her brow slightly. “So he does have a girlfriend?”
“He’s mentioned her a few times.” Bailey didn’t want to sound affected by the fact, but she was. “I guess they’re official.”
She glanced at her phone and once more she let her eyes run over the word girlfriend. The girl was in Wicked, same as Tim. She was pretty and talented — an ensemble dancer with long legs and short blond hair. Bailey had seen her in the show when Brandon Paul had flown them to New York City toward the end of their Unlocked shoot.
&nbs
p; “Does it bother you … Tim having a girlfriend?” They were seated at a quiet table near the window, the chaos of the city blocked out for now.
“A little.” She angled her head. “I mean, sort of, I guess. But maybe more because he’s happy and in love and I’m …” She shrugged, and a smile lifted the corners of her lips. “I’m alone.”
There were a dozen things her mother could’ve said at that point, bits of wisdom they’d discussed a number of times before. She could’ve said this was a season for Bailey and God — that He was all she needed. Or she could’ve said that Bailey’s future husband was out there somewhere, so maybe this was a good time to pray for him. She could’ve reminded Bailey that this was a time to pursue her dreams and not worry about a guy in her life, and she could’ve pointed out that God had great plans for her, like in Jeremiah 29:11. That sort of wisdom. All of that would’ve been good and true.
But in this moment her mom did something even better. She reached out and gave Bailey’s hand a squeeze and said absolutely nothing for a long moment. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” She sighed and her half smile touched Bailey to the core. “I know it’s hard.”
Bailey nodded. “It is.” Her throat was suddenly too tight to say anything more. What was there to say? Cody had disappeared, Tim had moved on … and there were no guys whatsoever pursuing her. She thought of her father’s comments about Matt Keagan from last week. Matt didn’t count. He was a Christian hero — not a guy she might think about dating.
The waitress came with their dinner, and Bailey’s emotions settled back into place. They thanked God for the food, and then
Bailey looked at her mom. “I’m happy for Tim. Really.” She ate a bite of broccoli. “He wasn’t the right guy for me.”
“No.” Bailey’s mom moved her fork through her chicken Caesar salad. “He didn’t cherish you, honey. He could walk out of the room while you were singing.” A dreamy look came over her face. “I sometimes picture the guy you’ll marry. I mean, his face isn’t clear, but I can picture him. And one thing I know …” She looked straight at Bailey, her eyes shining. “When you sing, he won’t be able to leave the room. He’ll barely remember to breathe. Because your song will resonate in the depths of his soul.”
Bailey could’ve cried. Wasn’t that exactly what she was believing for … praying for? That a guy would love her so completely someday that her song would resonate in the depths of his soul? She released a slow sigh, and willed herself to be patient. God knew all these things. He would help her through this time of singleness, of going after her dream to perform.
She held onto that truth as they finished dinner and headed back to their room for an early night. Bailey ran through her audition material several times before falling asleep. But as she did, she wondered what seeing Tim with his girlfriend would be like, whether she would have feelings for him or regrets over their breakup. The next morning at breakfast, the answer was as clear as the morning sky.
Tim and Adrienne arrived just as Bailey and her mom were being seated. The group exchanged hugs, and Bailey was careful to note how she felt — being in Tim’s arms again, even for only a few seconds. The feeling brought great relief and allowed Bailey to focus on Adrienne and her wisdom as a Broadway professional.
Because her feelings for Tim Reed were absolutely nothing but friendship.
They settled in around the table, and Tim helped Adrienne with her chair and then introduced her to Bailey and her mom. He seemed attentive and charming around her, and no question that his eyes sparkled when he looked at her. The reality hurt, but Bailey kept her voice and expression upbeat and happy. Tim had never looked at her the way he now looked at Adrienne. One of the reasons they hadn’t worked out was that he never seemed truly captivated by her. Like her mom had pointed out, he could leave the room when she was singing. Bailey had a feeling he stayed glued to his chair when Adrienne sang.
Oh well, she told herself. Further proof that Tim wasn’t the one. And better to know that much now — while she was still young — rather than follow after a guy that was wrong for her and waste these years. They helped themselves to plates from the breakfast buffet, and then gathered back at the table. The waitress served coffee, and Bailey had a cup. But no cream. She wanted her voice clear, her tone right on this morning.
“Tell Bailey about Francesca.” Tim turned his body so he faced his girlfriend. “The stuff you were telling me the other night. Before our date.”
Adrienne grinned, and a slight blush colored her cheeks. She ran her hand over her hair and seemed to work to find her focus. Whatever the date had been, it must’ve meant a lot to both of them. Bailey tried to ignore the fact.
“Francesca is intense.” Adrienne looked at Bailey and her smile fell off. “You have to come to the audition with thick skin, not worried about what she says. If she gives you direction it’s because she likes you.”
“You’ve worked with her?” Bailey focused her attention on the blond dancer. This information was priceless.
“I was in Hairspray before Wicked.” She shot a quick grin at Tim, as if the best part of being in the cast of Wicked was her relationship with Tim Reed. Then she seemed to remember that she was in the middle of telling a story. “Francesca has no barriers, no reservations about what she’ll say. She’ll walk up in the middle of an audition or rehearsal and adjust your posture or tell you exactly what she thinks of your singing. Don’t let it bother you. She demands excellence, and she gets it.”
Gratitude spread through Bailey. This was crucial. The fact that Francesca was hard on everyone — especially dancers she felt were talented — could help Bailey push through the audition later this morning if she felt she was failing. The hour was over almost as soon as it began, and Bailey felt like she’d found a friend in Adrienne. Never mind about Tim. If Bailey ended up in New York City, she could see herself hanging out with his girlfriend, if not him. Tim had already explained that Adrienne shared his faith, so they’d have that much in common.
Bailey was dressed in a V-neck white T-shirt and black dance pants, and in her bag she had her character shoes and a folder with her headshot and resume — all that was required according to Francesca’s message a few weeks ago. The audition was only eight blocks away, so they made the trip on foot. The warm-up would be good for her. They walked on the sunny side of the street and Bailey began to feel herself loosening up. She could hardly wait.
As she expected, there was a line of girls stretched out the door and halfway down the block in front of the studio hosting the audition. Bailey wasn’t bothered by the numbers. After all, Francesca Tilly had called her personally. Certainly she’d be looking for Bailey today. And now that she’d worked so hard, she was bound to catch the director’s eye sometime today.
Her mom caught a car back to the hotel. She was working on an article for a women’s magazine, so the hours alone would be good for her. “Call me with any updates.” The routine felt familiar, much like last time they were in New York City for an audition. But this was different. Bailey was on her own, without Tim, and she wasn’t nervous — not at all. The information from Adrienne played in her head as she signed in and found a spot on the expansive studio dance floor to stretch.
Again the room was filled with dancers — all of them about the same age and build. She would have to shine very brightly to win a part today. Father, You know this is my dream … I feel You’ve created me for this, to shine for You. So please help me do my best. Help me sing and dance and act in a way that brings You glory. Thank You, God …
Francesca was bringing order to the room. Bailey guessed there were two hundred girls there — and maybe another two hundred still down at the street level waiting for the next round. Francesca was a petite woman, angular with wiry gray hair. She dressed much like the dancers — black tights, a black leotard, and a spandex skirt with bright orange and blue swirls. Her hair was wound tightly at the top of her head, and her quick pace and hurried movements made it clear she was on a mission
to get the auditions over with.
“Line up,” she snapped. “Everyone.” She waved her hand like she was casting a spell, and immediately three assistants jumped into motion, organizing the girls in even rows. Bailey tried for the front, but she wasn’t fast enough. She wound up in the third row instead — two from the end. Francesca planted herself front and center, her hands on her hips. When the girls were in place, she barked a single word at them. “Hairspray!”
For a long half a minute no one dared speak. Most of the dancers — including Bailey—resisted the urge to look around the room for some shared bit of empathy. Maybe they’d all heard what Bailey had heard. That Francesca Tilly was a little eccentric.
Finally Francesca drew a full breath and stared them down, as close to one at a time as she could. “You know this show — at least I’d like to hope you know it.” She clapped her hands, fast and sharp. “It’s energy, energy, energy.” She stood on her tiptoes, shielded her eyes, and stared over the center of the formation. “That’s who I’ll cut first. Anyone without energy.” She began to pace across the front of the room. “Show me your energy, girls, or you’re done.”
Bailey was ready for this. She’d been jumping rope and doing Zumba classes in her family’s gym every morning and practicing dance each evening. She was in the best shape of her life and bursting with energy. She shook out her fingers, keeping herself loose.
“My choreographer Suzanne will teach you the Corny Collins dance, and you will learn it faster than you’ve ever learned any dance before. That’s how I run things.”
Suzanne took the floor and began teaching. The dance was fast and demanding, Francesca was right. But Bailey grasped it. When they did their first run through she was ready. By then Francesca was walking along the outer edge of the square staring down the dancers, doing just what Adrienne had said.