Page 76 of If Ever

17

Times Square is lit up brighter than the Celebrity Dance Off ballroom as our cab crawls to the theatre in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

“Hey, check it out!” Dominic points to a three-story high billboard of Tom's show, Crossing Lines.

I gawk at his familiar silhouette filling the side of a building. “I had no idea.” My eyes trail the sign as the cab rolls by more billboards, ticker-type news reels, and souvenir shops before turning. There are brightly lit theatre marquees on every block. We pass Hamilton, Wicked and numerous other shows before arriving at the theatre for Crossing Lines.

The cab pulls up and I let Dominic pay the fare. The show is paying our expenses for two days in New York and then I’m on my own. We’re needed back for the finale rehearsal on Saturday, but Dominic and I both agreed we wanted a couple extra days to enjoy New York.

We step onto the sidewalk into a crush of theatregoers bustling up and down both sides of the street with anticipation. Taxis and town cars drop off more ticket holders. We take a selfie in front of the marquee with Dominic looking his normal amazing self, and me grinning like an idiot. I don't care. Who would have guessed that the first Broadway show I see, the leading man is actually my friend? Date? Boyfriend? I'm not really sure I can call him that yet, but he's certainly more than a friend.

After texting the photo to Tom, so he knows we made it, we find the Will-Call line. I give them my name, and sure enough, the ticket agent hands me an envelope with two tickets. I wave them at Dominic and squeal.

A woman interrupts my euphoria. “Excuse me. You’re Dominic and Chelsea from Celebrity Dance Off? Could I get a picture?”

Dominic shifts into performance mode. “Of course.” We quickly pose with her standing between us as her husband takes the picture.

“Can I get one with just Dominic?” She asks all gooey eyed. I quickly step away, a little embarrassed that I stood in the first shot when he’s the one she’s really interested in. “Thank you, so much!” she effuses to Dominic after her hubby snaps another shot. And as we’re walking away, I hear her say, “I can’t believe I just met Dominic Yardley.”

I laugh. “See, it’s you the viewers were voting for all this time.”

Inside, we follow a grand staircase, and an usher leads us to first row balcony seats. I stare at the grand stage. The massive curtain is lit with the logo of the show. I soak in the ornate decor of the opulent old theater. There are gorgeous frescos on the ceiling, gilded box seats, and glittering chandeliers. I open the program and see Tom's picture, the first one at the top of the page. I elbow Dominic and grin.

The lights dim and the audience goes quiet as the overture begins. It's a relief to watch a show, versus having to dance in one, but my nerves are still as jumpy as if I were performing. I wonder how Tom is. What is he doing at this moment? Is he right behind the curtains? Or in the wings? What's he wearing? I know so little about this show, just that one song I saw on the Tony awards.

The curtain rises, and I grab Dominic’s arm. The stage lights come up, and the opening number begins. I search the stage, but can't spot him. It's a big group number with colorful costumes, and a rousing song. Just as it ends, Tom makes his entrance and my stomach flips. He's playing a younger man and it shows in the way he walks and acts. I'm surprised when he speaks his first lines with an American accent, but it sounds perfectly normal, and the rest of the world falls away, as I'm mesmerized by this new side of him.

Two and a half hours later, the show culminates with Tom belting out raw passionate vocals laced with angst, grief, and even hope. His powerful tenor voice fills the theatre giving me goose bumps, and when the song ends, I swipe away tears I didn't realize I'd shed. The theatre erupts into applause.

The stage goes dark and I can't believe the journey I've just been on. When the lights come up, Tom is gone. The cast comes out for bows in small groups. First the ensemble, then the smaller roles, to the principal players, and finally Tom runs out for his bow. I'm immediately on my feet along with the rest of the audience. He smiles and bows, back to the charming guy who occupies all my thoughts. The rest of the cast join him, gesture to the orchestra, and take a final group bow.

He gazes up to the balcony, and even though I'm sure he can't see me beyond the bright stage lights, he smiles and waves. I wave back, as the curtain closes, not caring if I look silly.

"Oh, my God." I turn to Dominic.

He’s just as razzed by the show as I am. “That was incredible.”

“I want to see it again.”

It takes a few minutes to file outside. The stage door is surrounded by a mob of people. Dominic leads the way past stanchions set up to keep the crowd back. I feel rude barreling past people, but I guess this is how it’s done. I hear comments, “Is that Dominic Yardley and Chelsea Barnes?”

Dominic knocks at the stage door and a security guy opens it a crack. The people in the crowd are craning their necks to see who we are. More people call out to us. I smile politely as Dominic gives our names. The security guard is a middle-aged guy wearing a flannel shirt and beat up boots. He swings the door open.

We step into an entryway of concrete steps, scuffed gray walls, and exposed pipes. It’s pretty bland after all the glamour of the show.

"Tom's dressing room is on the second floor at the top of the steps." The security guy points to the narrow staircase. This place is a lot like the studio in L.A. with a barren, industrial feel, except this theatre has got to be a hundred years old.

Dominic gestures for me to go first, so I climb the stairs, my pulse racing faster with each step. Tom was amazing, and the show was epic, leaving me moved beyond words.

A couple people wearing street clothes and stage makeup pass us going down. I know they were in the show but don't recognize them out of costume.

We reach the second floor landing and a grey door marked Thomas Evan Oliver, Crossing Lines. I hesitate and turn to Dominic.

I chew at the edge of my lip. Tom is now more than the guy who sang for me on Celebrity Dance Off. He's more than the cute guy I flirt with long distance, or steal kisses with now that I'm here in the same city. He's a huge Broadway star who just carried this show. Intimidated doesn't begin to describe my feelings.

Dominic raps on the door.

Tom opens it with a grin and tousled hair. "You made it!"

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