Page 13 of Something Cheeky

“You and I both know that this will be groundbreaking. It’s the first of its kind. I’ll be known—I mean, Prestige Rep will be on the map for supporting marginalized artists.”

“And I appreciate that.” Derek’s chest tightened; he was worried about where the conversation was headed.

“That’s why we’re premiering in May for Asian History Month.”

Derek bit his lip at how Greg bastardized Asian Pacific Islander Heritage Month.

“My favorite month,” joked Derek to hide how anxious the deadline made him. Six weeks until previews and another week and a half after that for opening night. It sounded like a lot of time on paper, but he and his cowriter still had to finish writing a couple of songs.

“I also told them they’d regret not producing yourT?m Cámbecause it has Broadway potential.” Greg pronounced T?m as inTammyand Cám incamera.

Derek had tried numerous times to teach him the Vietnamese pronunciation but had given up. In his native tongue, the names were softer, more lyrical. TheTinT?mwas similar to the Englishthsound, while the?msounded closer toumin umbrella. But he had to pick his battles and today wasn’t the time.

“I hope so,” Derek said cautiously. What theater director wouldn’twant a show on Broadway? The possibility only put more pressure on him, so he tried not to think about it too much.

“I know so. And in the end the board understood that taking a show to Broadway means we get a cut of the profits. Which we can reinvest back into the theater.”

“So it’s all about the money.” Derek’s shoulders relaxed slightly. Producers’ monetary motivations were predictable, which meant he could find ways to keep them happy.

“For the board, yes. Me? Your musical is art in the making. How lucky are we that I’m here to nurture your career?” The artistic director flashed him a smile.

“Greg, I appreciate all you’ve done for me over the years.” Derek meant it, even though he didn’t always enjoy socializing with Greg. He continued to meet the man for drinks whenever asked because Derek didn’t want to burn his bridges.

The waitress brought their drinks and the appetizers that Greg had ordered.

“Damn, that looks amazing. Have you ever had bone marrow before?”

“Not like this.” Derek shook his head. He’d slurped the beef bones that his mom simmered in her ph? broth, but this looked entirely different. A long beef bone had been cut lengthwise to reveal the rich marrow inside.

“You probably can’t afford this in New York on your budget.”

“I prefer more casual restaurants.” Derek ignored the dig. “The best food comes from hole-in-the-wall places, you know.”

“You have to taste it at least. You scrape this unctuous fat out with the spoon and spread it on the toast like this. Add some of these herbs and a squeeze of lemon to balance out the richness.” Greg demonstrated with glee, as if he savored the opportunity to show off his knowledge about upscale cuisine. He popped the toast in his mouth and groaned.

Derek shifted in his seat. He’d never seen his mentor lose his mind over food before. He resisted the urge to give Greg some privacy with his bone marrow.

“Try it,” Greg said in between bites.

“Maybe in a little. I’m still full from the boba I had on the way here.”

“Is that the funny-looking drink you have to chew?” Greg closed his eyes as he ate his toast.

“I don’t think it’s funny-looking, but yes, you chew the tapioca in it. It’s a refreshing dessert in a cup.” He’d been surprised how good the drink was considering the café’s trendy decor.

But not as unexpected as running into the very woman he’d spent two hours searching for. He’d wanted to look her up for the past six years but hadn’t been able to come up with a reason to visit Zoe. Until now. Until this musical.

“I know we talked about this before, but I want to be completely sure. I have full autonomy over who’s on my creative team and in my cast?” Derek asked.

“Of course! As long as they’re good at what they do, I don’t care who they are.”

“Thanks.” Derek hid his relief behind his glass. Several people on his creative team were not as credentialed as Prestige Rep’s past designers, but not for lack of trying. In this world, you had to know people to get the bigger gigs.

“Look, I have to tell you something. Just between you and me,” Greg announced in a low, quieter voice. He wiped his mouth with his white linen napkin. His expression had gone from light to serious.

“Sure.” Derek swallowed some tea to calm his nerves. The cold liquid sliding down his throat only spread his anxiety. Maybe Greg would tell him this was all a joke and the board had changed their minds about the musical.

“The board wants us to produce more shows by people of color. I agree with them.”

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