Page 58 of To the Moon and Back

Lauren watched Carly leave through the mirror. Since the reviewshit nearly ten days ago, Carly had carried herself a tad heavier, almost as iftrying to escape a dark cloud following her around. She had fun moments, andsexy moments, and, as always, killed it onstage. Yet she’d get this farawaylook in her eye that Lauren had come to understand originated from fear. Thattugged at Lauren, who wanted to gather Carly up and keep her safe from theworld, which had proven itself to be less than hospitable. Carly projected suchconfidence and bravado that it took a while to understand that beneath it allexisted a well of vulnerability.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re at half hour.”

She smiled at the sound of Trip’s ultra-professional voice. She’donly hear it for another two weeks of performances. She tapped the smallnotebook in which she’d taken down the phone numbers from the voicemailsearlier. She wasn’t on the schedule at The McAllister for the next show, asshe’d been promised a true vacation by Wilks. That time was hers, and shewouldn’t lose her job. Possibilities swirled. Uncertainty loomed. Above all,her heart squeezed uncomfortably. “What in the world am I supposed to do withmyself now?”

The quiet of the room absorbed her question. She had a show to dofirst.

* * *

Carly, in her act 1 business suit for Ashley, regarded herself inthe mirror. She had ten minutes until places and had her hair, costume, andmakeup ready in record time, which left a few minutes to spare. While inLauren’s dressing room earlier, she’d seen the names and numbers of several keyindustry players on her dressing table. That meant Lauren’s phone was clearlygetting a workout, while her own remained woefully silent. Not one to justaccept her fate, Carly pulled her phone out of her bag and knew the only thingto do now. Call her agent. Again.

“Alika Moore’s office. This is William.”

“William. It’s Carly Daniel. Is she available?”

“I’ll put you right through.” Only a small pause before Alikaanswered.

“Alika, do you know that it’s the middle of autumn and forty-twodegrees in Minneapolis? California is weeping for me and my lost tan.”

Her agent chuckled. “Well, hello, Carly Daniel. How the hell areyou today?”

“About the same as when we chatted last week. Show’s going well.People seem to love it. We have huge crowds at the stage door and have sold outthe entire run.”

“That’s fantastic news. I knew you’d kill it if we sent you outthere. Right move all the way.”

“You still think so?” A pause. Carly watched herself carefully inthe mirror, insecurity creasing her features. She absently fiddled with theeyelash curler on her dressing table. “Just haven’t heard from you. Wonderingif you’ve had any bites since we last spoke. I’m ready to get going, line somethings up.”

She heard Alika shuffle some papers on her desk, which she knewfrom experience was always messy, stacked with file folders, and decorated withstray paper clips. Alika operated on a system of organized chaos which woulddrive Lauren insane. She smothered a smile just thinking about it.

“I wish I did, Carly. I had hoped that some good press would raiseyour demand a bit. The rumors that were published haven’t been helpful.”

“But the rumors weren’t true. I got along with everyone, exceptthe one actress who hated me from the moment I walked in the door. It was stilla harmonious environment, though. We had a positive rehearsal period.”

“Doesn’t matter if you were Mother Teresa in that room if the oppositeis what makes it to print. You know this business. The reviews are good, but—”

“Not amazing. At least, not for me.” She placed a hand on herforehead, realizing her uphill battle. It was like she couldn’t do anythingright, even when she did.

“True.” Alika sighed. “I could get you endorsement work, TV spots,but I’m worried that’s the wrong move if we want to revive your film career.It’s all about what you want your future to be.”

“Film is where it’s at, and it’s where I want to be. Stage wouldbe good, too. As long as it’s high profile.”

Alika didn’t say anything. “The only thing might be, and don’tgrasp on to this yet, but—”

“Tell me.” Carly stood up, needing something, anything to keephope alive.

“There’s murmuring down the hall among our theatrical agents thatStarry Nightsmightmake a Broadway transfer.”

Carly held her breath. Was it possible? The McAllister wasreputable, but Broadway was legendary. If they transferred the show, hervisibility would soar. Not only that, but she felt like a part ofStarry Nights, and itwas part of her. She couldn’t imagine the show making that leap without her andLauren in their rightful roles. “Alika, my favorite agent ever”—she began towalk the length of her small dressing room, invigorated—“if that happens, itcould be a game changer.”

“I hesitated to mention it, as it could all just be rumor. Don’tget your hopes up just yet.”

Carly snapped her fingers. “Too late. How can we make thishappen?”

“Well, I could always put the word out that you’d be interested.See if that sparks any momentum for the project.”

“Yes, do that. I am.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, five minutes, please. Five minutes toplaces.”

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