Life on the Naughty List, or What the Elf!

23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

I took the pizza back to my apartment and I squirreled myself away. There were a million and one emails, voicemails, and text messages. So many people were trying to get a hold of me, I wondered if someone would try a carrier pigeon or singing telegram. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, so I avoided looking at anything and refused to answer my phone or open my door. At the rate the messages were pouring in, I half expected my therapist to call to make sure I was okay.

I sat down on the floor with my back resting against the couch. The pizza lid was open, so I could more easily grab my next slice. I’d also opened a bottle of wine to wash it all down with. I didn’t bother with a wineglass. Bootsy came and curled up next to me. He could tell that momma was not in a good mood and needed his comfort. I grabbed a slice of pizza and decided to find out how my life had ended so quickly.

I tried to find the audio for myself on the internet, but I quickly realized I didn’t know how to do that beyond googling myself. I found the article from an anonymous user at TheBrodway411. The article was set up like an interview. It omitted the fact that it was pulled from a conversation without my knowledge.

My phone vibrated, and it was a call from my lawyer. Brice must have called him. I thought about not picking up, but I hit the call button.

“Hello?”

“Erika, Charles Pearson, your lawyer.”

“Yes, Mr. Pearson, I remember.”

“I heard about that unfortunate business that happened today. I wanted to let you know what we know so far. Apparently, the audio came from a streaming platform for gamers. Honestly, how anyone picked up on the fact that you were having a conversation with someone over all the fighting noises is beyond me.”

“You’ve heard the audio, then?”

“One of my associates found it. It wasn’t easy to find. Where were you when this was recorded?”

“I was at my neighbor’s apartment. His teenage niece had been playing video games, and we were sitting on the couch talking.”

“Hmm…That’s good to know. And both would verify that?”

“I would assume so…since that’s what happened.”

“And you don’t suspect either of them having done this on purpose?”

I hesitated for a microsecond before saying, “They’re not the types who would do something like this on purpose.”

“Not even for money. People do all kinds of things for money.”

“No. Again, they’re not the types.” If it had been some of my other neighbors, I would have had some second thoughts. But Carissra and Kirk were about the most straightforward people I knew. There was a twinge of guilt in the back of my mind that I considered for a microsecond that they’d set me up.

“Well, this is good information to have. If anything changes, I’ll let you know.” And with that, my lawyer was off the phone. Will I get billed for the five minutes or a full hour for that phone call?

I picked up another slice of pizza and ate it. Then I picked up another, folded it in half and ate it too. I continued my way through half the box and the entire bottle of wine. I folded the lid on top of the pizza box, curled into a ball on the floor and cried myself to sleep.

Around 7:00 p.m., someone knocked on my door. I was still lying on the floor. I pulled a pillow from the couch and covered my head, hoping whoever it was would disappear.

“Erika, I know you’re in there,” Johnny’s voice came from the door. He was loud enough to wake the whole building. Admittedly, I was still slightly inebriated. I hoped that Johnny would magically go away if I didn’t answer the door.

“I’m coming in,” he said. Only then did I remember that I’d given him a spare key for emergencies. Light streamed in from the hallway, lighting my body curled up in a ball. I twitched my head to the side to avoid looking in the light. “Oh, my!” Johnny said. “This is bad.” He flipped on the hallway light switch and shut the door. “Oh, Erika, honey…” His voice trailed off.

He walked over and sat down on the ground next to me, picking up the bottle of discarded wine from the floor and putting it on the coffee table. “You want to talk about it?” he asked. I shook my head. “That’s okay.” He reached out and touched the side of my face, brushing hair from my eyes. He stroked his thumb over my cheek. For a long time, he said nothing, knowing that this was not a time to speak. He didn’t try any stupid platitudes like “it gets better” or “this will work itself out.” He sat there and caressed my face while I slipped back to sleep.

When I woke, I was on my bed with a pillow beneath my head. I stirred and tried to sit up, but I got lightheaded.

“Easy there,” a voice reassured me. “You’ve been out for a few hours.”

I rubbed my eyes and found Kirk sitting in a chair next to my bed reading.

A garbled sound tried to escape my throat.

“Let me get you some water.” Kirk folded his book in half and walked out into the kitchen.

I heard him search through the cupboards before finding a glass, then the tap water turned on. I wanted to yell that there were water bottles in the fridge, but my mouth was dry as a desert, and words didn’t want to form. Of course, I wasn’t sure if this was because of my hangover or the mortification at having my neighbor see me like this. I didn’t want to look in a mirror because I’m sure I looked like a royal hot mess.

He walked back in and handed me the glass of water. I started drinking. I wanted to guzzle all of it but that would be a bad idea, so I took sips. When my mouth was hydrated, I sat up in bed with my back against the headboard. I did my best to look presentable. Not that it mattered. He’d already seen me at my worst.

“So, you’re probably wondering why I’m here,” Kirk said. While I was drinking, he’d sat down again, and his book rested in his lap. I nodded. “Johnny had to go. But he didn’t want to leave you alone, so he asked me to watch over you. Carissra’s out of town this weekend, so I didn’t have any other plans until this evening.”

“What time is it?” I asked.

Kirk rolled over his wrist and looked at his watch. “It’s a little after 9:00 a.m.” He looked at me for another minute before asking, “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“That’s okay. Johnny filled me in on the basics. He told me to tell you that some guy named Asher dropped by last night. He also said don’t freak out. Johnny handled it.”

“Thank goodness for minor miracles,” I muttered.

“You should probably call Johnny soon. He was very worried about you.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you need anything?” Kirk said, practically jumping out of the chair. “I could make you some coffee? Maybe a cup of soup? It may be a bit too early for soup. I could scramble you an egg?”

I held my hand for him to stop and I smiled up at him. “Thanks for watching over me. I think I have it from here.”

He looked down at me with concerned eyes. “Are you sure? I can stay…”

I inhaled and let out the air before I said, “I’m sure. Yesterday was rough, and I didn’t handle it very well.”

“We all have those days,” he replied, smiling at me. “Again, if you need anything, I’m next door.”

“I’m fine. I officially release you from guardian angel duty.”

He took a couple of steps toward my bedroom door before turning around and saying, “I’m next door. Pound on the wall if you need me.”

“Thanks.”

With that, he left. A couple of seconds later, I heard the door to the apartment open and shut. I let myself lay back down as Bootsy came over and nestled against me. He started kneading my leg. “I love you, too, Bootsy.” I may have slept all night, but I was exhausted. After laying there for a few minutes, I forced myself out of bed. I walked into the living room and found it spotless. Someone had done a great job cleaning up after me. Johnny? Yeah, that wouldn’t happen. Kirk? Oh, I hope not. The idea of Kirk seeing my apartment in the mess it must have been yesterday made me want to hide for the rest of the year. Amani . I imagined Johnny called Amani at some point and he came over. While Johnny watched over me, Amani set about cleaning.

I sat down on the couch and picked up my phone. I wasn’t quite ready to face life, but I had to at least respond to a few people. First, I texted Johnny.

Erika: I’m up and acting like a human. Thanks for last night. And thank Amani for cleaning my apartment.

The little symbol letting me know he was writing me back appeared on my phone.

Johnny: Sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I had to enlist Kirk because I had a gig this morning.

Then a second text came right after it.

Johnny: How did you know Amani cleaned?

I laughed at that one.

Erika: Because I know you well enough to know it wasn’t you. Deduction, my Dear Watson.

I then thought for a second about what to type next.

Erika: Thanks for last night.

It was all I could come up with.

Johnny: You’re welcome. And don’t worry, I didn’t let Asher into your place. Though, he was genuinely worried. I’ll come by and check on you later.

Ahh, Asher. The absolute last person I wanted to deal with today. Despite his good intentions, he had inadvertently caused my last nervous breakdown, leaving me less than enthusiastic about catching up. Besides, he and the rest of the cast likely knew more details than I did at this point.

A quick message to Brice let him know I was alive but going silent for a couple of days, with instructions to text Johnny in case of emergency. My parents received a similar text assuring them of my well-being, though I couldn’t bring myself to tell them to cancel their plane tickets for opening night. The topic had become too painful to discuss further.

Seeking solace, I drew a bath and added my favorite lavender-scented bath bomb. The long soak lasted until the water turned lukewarm and my skin pruned. Afterward, a quick shower and a change into old sweats preceded an evening in the living room, where AMC’s classic movies provided a welcome escape. Nothing more recent than 1980 would do for my current mood. Thankfully, the 1944 movie of Arsenic and Old Lace was playing. I folded my legs to the side, and Bootsy nestled in front of me on the couch as we watched.

The credits were rolling when there was a knock on my front door. I wanted to ignore the knocks for fear it was someone coming to check on me. Bootsy eyed me, and I rolled my eyes and dragged myself to the door. I checked the peephole. Kirk stood on my doorstep. I opened the door. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to see if you had any milk. I’m in the midst of a cooking emergency. I’m supposed to be baking cookies for a party tonight. I haven’t done this in years, so I’m freaking out a bit.” He had a wide-eyed frazzled look of a man feeling out of place in the kitchen, which was surprising since he was a superb cook.

“Let me grab the milk, and I’ll be right over.”

“Thanks.” He spun and hurried next door. If this was his attempt to get me out of my apartment today, it worked. I went over to the fridge and was about to leave with the milk, but left Bootsy a saucer full in case I didn’t come back with any. I also needed to make sure it was still good.

Bootsy lapped it up, and I smelled it, so I headed next door to Kirk’s cooking emergency. I knocked on the door, and he practically flung the door open.

“Oh, thank you!”

He reached out and grabbed the milk from my outstretched hand and flew back into his kitchen. I wasn’t exactly invited in, but he hadn’t shut the door.

The kitchen looked like a bomb had gone off. “Whoa,” was all I got out.

“This is a disaster!” Kirk said, throwing his arms in the air.

“What’s the problem?” I may not cook, but I know a little something about baking cookies.

“I’m supposed to be bringing two dozen of my grandmother’s cookies, and something is just wrong. I’ve tried the recipe three times, and it’s not right.”

“Can I see the recipe?” I asked politely, in case it was some secret family formula that only three people in the world could ever see.

He handed me the index card, and I read it. Seemed perfectly logical to me. “Do you mind if I send it to Amani?”

“Sure.”

I took a picture of the recipe and sent it to Amani’s phone. He texted back immediately.

Amani: Please don’t tell me you’re baking. I don’t want the building to burn down.

Erika: Ha, Ha! It’s not for me. Kirk’s recipe is missing something.

Amani: The recipe doesn’t mention toasting the anise seeds. This can impact the flavor profile.

“Kirk, are you toasting the anise seeds first?” I asked.

“Should I be?” he responded.

“That’s what Amani said. Apparently, toasting them can ‘impact the flavor profile.’” I said in my best Amani imitation.

“Okay, let’s give it a try.”

I texted Amani back, thanking him for his help, and promised to let him know if the toasting was the magic culprit. In no time, Kirk had the anise seeds toasted and into the pizzelle maker on his kitchen counter. As soon as the first one was finished, he got it out and let it cool for a second before taking a bite.

Kirk’s immediate look of satisfaction was all I needed to know about our success. He ripped it in half and gave me the other part. I relished each bite and watched as Kirk made pizzelle after pizzelle.

“You know, if you’re not doing anything tonight, you could come with me to this party. Carissra was going to go but then went down to DC to spend time with an old friend. The hosts of the party are expecting me with a plus one.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude. And I’m not sure I’m in the mood to be around people.”

“They’re not people, they’re teachers,” he joked. “It’s my schoolteacher holiday party. There will probably be 25 people there. They’re a lot of fun and nice people. None of them work in entertainment, so there’s that.”

“I don’t know what I would wear.”

“Anything you wanted to. Technically, it’s an ugly holiday sweater party, but I’m still debating.”

I raised an eyebrow at the way he drew out the word debating . He gestured for me to look around the corner. Sitting on top of the dryer was a neon-colored Hawaiian-themed sweater with a pink flamingo wearing a Santa hat, fake beard and snow glasses. It read, Alo-Ho Ho Ho in pink letters across the bottom.

I walked back into the living room and stared at him in the kitchen. “Wow,” was all I got out. “If there’s a contest, you’ll probably win.”

“Hardy-har-har. It’s not that bad.”

“Oh, it’s that bad.” I chuckled and smiled for the first time in 24 hours. “It’s so bad that it’s almost perfect. I’m almost tempted to go with you just to watch people’s expressions when they take it all in. Where does one find a monstrosity like that?”

“Amazon,” Kirk said matter-of-factly. “I typed in ugly Christmas sweater , and there were many of them. That one was a little over the top, but it was more special when I took it out of the box.”

“Well, if it doesn’t win as an ugly sweater, you could wear it as a bicycle safety vest. There’s no way a driver couldn’t see you with that thing shining at them. Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I swear it glows on its own.”

“Oh, it actually has glow-in-the-dark threads.”

“Wow…now I have to go to your party to cheer you on.”

“Really?” he asked me.

“And pass up an opportunity like this? I’m there. What time do I need to be ready?”

“It starts at 7:00 p.m., so I’ll pick you up at 6:45? We can walk over. It’s only a couple of blocks.”

“Sounds like a date,” the words slipped out of my mouth so effortlessly. Thankfully, he wasn’t looking at me when I said them. I blurted goodbye and walked next door to figure out what I would wear for the evening.

What am I going to wear? I tore through my closet like a crazy person. I didn’t have many Christmasy outfits, so I went with a traditional color pattern. It wasn’t until I was fully dressed that I realized it was the same outfit I’d worn to the audition for The Naughty List , which meant I had worn it on the day I met Kirk. I can’t believe that was only like six weeks ago…if that. I sat there trying to do the mental math in my head but gave up.

“We’ll say six weeks. It’s faster,” I told Bootsy. For some reason, he didn’t feel the need to respond to my craziness. How rude!

I was ready by 6:30 and proceeded to pace around the apartment, unsure what else to do. Bootsy watched me from the couch as I walked to-and-fro, like some kind of crazy tennis match—only I was the ball. When the knock finally came at 6:40, I was like, finally . I walked over to the door and opened it.

“You’re ear—“

“Hey there,” Asher said. “You look amazing. Going somewhere?”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. Bootsy made a dash for the door at that moment, but I swooped down and grabbed him at the last second.

“Who’s this little guy?” Asher asked.

“His name is Bootsy. Best rebound man I’ve ever had.” Once the words were out of my mouth, there was no taking them back. “At least I didn’t name him Asher 2.0,” I tried to joke.

Asher stared at Bootsy. “So, you’re my replacement?” he questioned with a smile as he scratched Bootsy on the head.

“As to your first question, I am going somewhere. My neighbor invited me to a Christmas party. I needed to get out of the apartment, so I agreed to go.”

“Good for you,” Asher said.

“You might as well come in,” I said, getting out of the door and gesturing with Bootsy to enter. Once Asher was inside and the door closed, I put Bootsy on the ground. Bootsy sauntered back to his place on the couch and warily eyed Asher. Good Bootsy. Part of me wished Bootsy had drawn blood when Asher pet him, but I suppressed that thought as soon as it entered my head. I’d been on Team Death to Asher for so many years, it was hard to see him as a guy or a colleague. Even if we had buried the hatchet—and it hadn’t been in his back—I still wasn’t his best friend.

“Why are you here, Asher?” He looked a bit taken aback by my bluntness. “I’m sorry. It’s just…my neighbor will be here any minute, so I don’t have time for a lot of small talk.”

“That’s fine. I get it. I just…I wanted to say what they did to you yesterday sucked. Frankly, the cast is in an uproar. Some were not exactly happy with what you said, but even they thought you had maligned no one or the show. Everything you said was fact.”

“Thanks for letting me know. That means a lot.”

“I volunteered to be the Equity Deputy immediately. I don’t know how, but we’re going to fight this.”

I let out a sigh. “That’s nice, but I can’t put my hopes in you…not because it’s you, but because there’s an audio recording of me making the comments. Admittedly, I didn’t know they were being recorded, but that apparently doesn’t mean much.”

“Wait…huh? Back up. I’m missing some details here. We were told that you were interviewed by someone on that trashy website, TheBroadway411. Is that not what happened?”

“Not exactly.” There was a knock on my door. “Guess my date is here.”

“Date?” Asher asked as he flashed me his matinee idol smile.

“Not like that…At least, I don’t think it’s like that. Honestly, I don’t know what to think right now. My brain isn’t firing on all cylinders today.” I walked to the door and opened it. Asher walked up behind me and peered over my shoulder at Kirk.

“Oh, hey, Erika,” Kirk said. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

“It was unexpected,” I said. “He was just leaving.”

Asher pushed around me and out into the hallway. “I wasn’t joking, Erika. We’ll figure out a way to fight this.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Well, let me grab my coat,” I said, turning to Kirk. I shut the door and left the boys in the hall staring at each other while I grabbed my coat and purse. I forwent the purse and took my phone and my key. “Goodbye, Bootsy. Momma loves you. I won’t be out too late.” He looked at me from the couch and nestled into a blanket for a nap.

I walked back to the door and found Asher and Kirk still standing there. “Sorry about that,” I said, cutting through some kind of invisible tension. “Did you two introduce yourselves?” From the expressions on their faces, I could tell the answer was no. “Asher Alexander, meet Kirk…Brewster.” I totally forgot Kirk’s last name at first. I rarely needed to say it, so it didn’t pop off my tongue like Asher’s had. The two men exchanged handshakes. “Well, as much as I wish we could all stay and talk, Kirk and I have a party to get to.” I motioned to the elevator, saying, “Shall we?”

Kirk offered his arm, and I graciously accepted it, locking my arm in his as if it was the most normal thing. I caught the quick side gaze from Asher and did everything in my power not to roll my eyes. He had a way of getting under my skin. Even though it’d been over three years since the breakup, he could still push my buttons.

We rode the elevator down to the ground floor in awkward silence. When we got there, Asher said goodbye and went in one direction, and thankfully Kirk and I headed in the other. When Kirk and I were finally alone on the street, I said, “Well, that was awkward.”

“Does he drop by unannounced often?”

“Oh, heavens no. That was a first. Apparently, he dropped by last night, too, but this was the first time he’s done that. I didn’t even know he knew where I was living until this morning. Not that it’s much of a secret. For that matter, I don’t know where he lives. I feel like I’m talking too much. Am I talking too much?”

Kirk chuckled. “We all have exes, and they all seem to have the ability to dredge up the past when we see them.”

“Oh really? Tell me about your exes,” I said with a quirk of my lips. I know he couldn’t see it, but I hope he got the playful tone in my voice.

“As this is a holiday party, I’d rather not. You know, let’s keep things festive. We can reminisce about our ghosts of dating pasts another day.”

We walked arm in arm for a couple more blocks. We were on streets further from Broadway, so we didn’t see the influx of tourist traffic around here on the weekends. We passed a giant bus loading people who had clearly spent the day shopping. It happened every December. Tourist buses filled with shoppers made their way into the city to see a matinee, have lunch, and shop to their little hearts were content. Unfortunately, they added a considerable amount of foot traffic to the already busy city. Thankfully, the bulk of the tourists huddled around the shops 5 th Avenue or the ones around Times Square. Once you get a block or two away from the shopping epicenters, foot traffic drops off considerably.

“So, what did Asher drop by for?” Kirk asked.

“He was checking in on me. The cast thinks I purposefully gave an interview to TheBroadway411. I was about to explain that to Asher, but you showed up.”

“I could have given you two a minute—“

“No need. I’m trying to stay positive tonight, so I didn’t need to go back over all that again.”

Before long, we found ourselves in SoHo at a cute brownstone. We walked up to the door, and there was a paper sign directing us to the third floor. The host had added Not There Yet and One Flight to Go posters printed in festive colors on each level. There was no need to knock, there was another sign that read Come In. The Party’s Here! in blocky lettering with Santa waving.

Kirk reached down and twisted the door handle and pushed open the door. I could tell we were still on the earlier side. Only a handful of guests turned to look at us when we entered.

“Kirk,” a voice yelled before a pleasant-looking woman came bounding over. “Welcome to our home.” It was only then that I realized the entire house was decked out in blue and white for Hanukkah. All the signs that had guided us to the apartment had been decked out with menorahs, dreidels, gelt, and other signs of the Jewish holiday. I hadn’t been paying attention. The cheerful looking woman wore a fuzzy blue and white sweater with a polar bear spinning a dreidel.

“Leslie, this is my neighbor, Erika. Erika, this is Leslie. She’s an English teacher.”

“It’s grand to meet you, Erika,” she said, reaching for my hand. I quickly offered it and she shook my hand firmly. “My wife is around here somewhere. She teaches high school science at the same school Kirk’s niece attends.” She looked around the room quickly before yelling, “Bethany! We have guests.”

A thin woman decked out in a reindeer sweater complete with blinking lights came into the room. “Wow, Kirk. That sweater is…I don’t know if my retinas will ever be the same.”

“I know, right?” I said.

“Bethany, this is Kirk’s neighbor, Erika.”

“Nice to meet you, Bethany,” I said, extending my hand this time.

“Likewise,” Bethany said, shaking my hand.

“I’m glad to see that Kirk’s move into the Manhattan Plaza landed him a good neighbor.”

The door behind us opened, and another couple entered the apartment. Leslie’s attention immediately went to the newly arrived couple.

“Please, come in and enjoy yourselves,” Bethany said. “You can put your coats on the bed in the guest bedroom. It’s down the hall. The door’s open, so you can’t miss it.” With that, Bethany turned to greet the new couple.

Kirk said hello to a few more of his colleagues, constantly introducing me along the way. I smiled and shook more hands that evening than at most meet-and-greets. We finally deposited our coats and went back into the living room. Kirk found the dessert table and pulled out the pizzelles. Immediately, a couple of his colleagues oohed and ahhed at Kirk’s baking handiwork.

The next hour was a whirlwind of meeting new people and shaking hands. For the first time in years, I wasn’t “Erika Saunders–Broadway Star” or “Erika Saunders–Queen of the Cabaret.” I was just Erika, Kirk’s plus one. I hated to admit it, but it was nice to have a level of anonymity in a group of people. No one wanted an autograph. No one wanted to ask me if I knew “so and so” or if the gossip about “name your Broadway star” was true. We talked about completely different topics from the ones I’m used to discussing with industry types. We talked about the joys of dealing with kids and their parents.

Around 8:00, Leslie and Bethany broke out the main meal, which included matzo ball soup, Kosher beef brisket, latkes, challah bread, and sweet noodle kugel. I piled my plate high, and Kirk found a spot for us at a folding table with Damian, a colleague who taught art, and his boyfriend, Kevin, who was a doctor. Damian was a forty-something Black man dressed in a periwinkle sweater with a sloth dressed in a scarf and hat. Kevin wore a Darth Vader-Claus sweater. Immediately, their sweaters clearly differentiated their personalities. We talked about what we liked to do in the city. Kevin told us some highly entertaining stories about crazy cases that appeared in the emergency department. There was something amazingly nice about the sheer normalness of the evening. I don’t think I’d had one of these since I moved to the city. In my world, everyone had a connection to the entertainment industry. I’d almost forgotten that not everyone’s life revolved around auditions, openings, and closings. Most people in the city live perfectly normal lives.

“So, what do you do, Erika?” Damian asked between bites.

I’m very glad that I didn’t have a glass of wine to my lips, or I probably would have done a spit take. “I’m uhh…What I’m trying to say is…I’m kind of well—“

“She’s in between gigs at the moment,” Kirk helped me as I tried to recover.

“Oh?” Damian asked with interest.

“She’s a performer,” Kirk said, which sounded ridiculously vague and could have covered anything from birthday clown to pole dancer.

“What Kirk means is that I’m a Broadway actor and cabaret singer,” I said, using my usual tagline.

“Oh, really?” Damian said, putting his wine glass back down on the table. “Been anything I might have seen?”

First, I absolutely hate it when people ask me this question. How am I to know what the heck you’ve seen? Second, I never know how to answer this question. Do I start at the top of my resume and work my way down?

“I thought I recognized you,” Kevin said. “I totally love your I Hate Men Cabaret! I caught all the highlights on YouTube. Don’t you remember her, honey?“ he said, turning to Damian. “She was the one who sang like every bitter, jaded song in the American songbook. She made Alanis Morissette look pleasantly even-tempered by comparison.”

A look of recognition crossed over Damian’s face. “That was you?”

“In the flesh,” I said. It only took a moment before both looked from me to Kirk and back to me again. They didn’t have to voice it. They were wondering if Kirk caused my man-hating. “In case you’re wondering, I’ve only known Kirk for about six weeks.”

“Ahh…” the gay duo said in unison.

Kirk looked at me with a “what was that about” look. Under the table, I patted his knee in my best reassuring way as I mouthed, “I’ll tell you later.”

Thankfully, that was the closest brush to having my secret identity exposed for the evening. But being around ordinary people made me wonder if I was missing out on life. I’d spent so much of my life trying to be on Broadway. What if Broadway was never meant to be? In the words of the theater goddess herself, Patti LuPone, “I’m an actor, and an actor acts.” If I gave up acting, what would I be then? A washout? A has been that never was? Thousands of girls come to New York City every year with dreams of being on Broadway. I’ve made it farther in the business than most of them could ever dream. All things considered, I’ve made a decent run of things.

“What do you think, Erika?” Damian asked.

“Huh?” I said, trying to refocus on the conversation. My mind kept pondering the meaning of life.

“It’s been a rough week for her,” Kirk said. “I’m amazed she let me drag her out of the apartment tonight.”

“Tough week in the cabaret business?” Damian asked with a hint of genuine interest.

“Something like that. But I don’t want to talk about it. Sorry, if I’m a bit of a space cadet tonight, my mind is running in too many directions.”

“Oh, honey,” Kevin cut in as he reached out and grabbed my hand. “I’ve been there. Some days my little hamster wheel is running so fast, I can’t keep up with all the crap running around inside my head. This one,” he jerked his head at Damian, “said I should try meditating. Yeah, I don’t think so. All that means is I’m going to sit in a lotus position while the little hamsters run. On those dreadful nights when the hamsters won’t shut up, I have Special K.”

“What!” I said in shock. “Isn’t that some illegal club drug?”

“Not that kind of Special K. I’m talking Klonopin, not Ketamine or the cereal. Klonopin is the only thing my psychiatrist has found that helps me keep the anxiety down and hamsters quiet so I can get some sleep.”

“I can attest to that,” Damian said. “Before he got on Special K—it’s our little nickname for it—he would stay up for 24 hours straight because his brain wouldn’t shut up.”

“I blame my parents. They raised me to be a neurotic New Yorker. This,” he said with a wide motion to himself, “is the result of their neuroses combined with my own.”

Kevin and Damian started laughing, so Kirk and I joined in, but I don’t think Kirk and I got the joke. Not really.

“So, honey, if this keeps up, talk to your psychiatrist. Maybe Special K is right for you?”

“Yeah,” Damian chimed in. “I’m a lightweight. I only take Wellbutrin for mild anxiety and depression. I wasn’t sure it was working until one day Sarah, she works in the library. She’s around here somewhere…” Damian looked around the party to see if he could find her. He finally pointed out a woman wearing a lime-green Christmas tree sweater. “Well, Sarah, she comes up to me and is like, ‘Damian, has something changed? You’ve been so happy lately. You haven’t gone off on anyone in days.’ And I was like, you know what, it’s true. That’s when I knew it was working.”

There was something so normal and yet so odd listening to two men discuss their therapists, psychiatrists, and which drugs they were taking. Kirk and I got an impromptu lecture on the benefits of modern psychopharmacology in between courses.

Once dinner was over, it was time for games. I wasn’t much in the mood for games, but I got dragged into them. Of course, everyone wanted to play charades. I’ve been with too many theater companies who take charades way too seriously. Thankfully, this group didn’t seem like the type that would critique your acting abilities if you couldn’t figure out how to get everyone to guess The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford in thirty seconds using no words.

All the topics were holiday songs, so they weren’t too difficult. When it was my turn, I stepped up and took a slip of paper from the Santa hat. I unfolded it and silently read, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

Bethany shouted, “Go!” as she flipped over the one-minute sand timer.

I pointed to my nose.

A half dozen people yelled out the answer. I took my bow and sat back on the couch.

“That wasn’t fair,” Kirk said as I nuzzled beside him. “You get Rudolph, and I got ‘Children, Go Where I Send Thee.’”

“Quit your griping,” Damian said from the other team. “I’m still surprised you don’t know your good old Christmas spirituals.”

Kevin was next. He drew a slip of paper, scrunched up his nose and he said, “This will be fun.”

“No talking,” Leslie barked, which garnered a laugh from the room.

“Go!” Bethany yelled again.

Kevin started doing something that looked vaguely like YMCA. People on his team shouted out song titles, and he got more and more confused and aggravated.

“Time!” Bethany yelled. “The other team gets a chance to guess for the point.”

They looked to our team captain, a history teacher I honestly hadn’t talked to. He looked to the rest of us before saying, “We have no idea.”

Kevin stared at us and let out a slight huff. “Hanukkah, Oh Hanukkah!”

“Are you kidding me?” Damian said. “How was that Hanukkah?”

“I was trying to be a menorah,” Kevin replied. The entire room busted out laughing. Thankfully, Kevin took it well and laughed along. Before long, the game was called a tie, and both sides won. It was a holiday party, after all. Everyone got small goodie bags to go for winning. Clearly, Leslie and Bethany had planned this outcome from the beginning.

We retrieved our coats, said our goodbyes, and headed back into the frosty night air. It was almost midnight. I shivered against the cold.

“Let’s huddle together, conserve heat,” Kirk suggested.

I snuggled close. I had to take three steps for every one of Kirk’s. He was tall. You don’t realize how tall someone is until you try to keep up with them. December had blown in, and the wind was howling through the streets. Whenever we came to one of the west-to-east cross streets, the wind would barrel down on us from the Hudson. We sped through intersections to get to the cover of buildings again along the sidewalks.

I pushed the door open to the Manhattan Plaza and held it for Kirk.

“ Brr ,“ I said with a shake as I stepped into the heated building. “It’s elf-ing cold out there.”

“I know,” Kirk said. “I always forget how cold it can get when the winter winds wind their way through the city.”

We headed to the elevator and made our way upstairs.

“Thanks for dragging me along tonight. I needed this.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you came. With your usual schedule, I wouldn’t have even thought to ask you to come to a school party.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he gasped at his perceived insensitivity. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“But it’s true. In all reality, two days ago, I wouldn’t have been available tonight. I would have had a show. I couldn’t have gone with you.” I turned and looked at him. “I’m glad I could go with you. And I’m glad I did go with you.”

Kirk smiled at me. I leaned in toward him as the elevator doors opened on our floor.

“Where have you been?” Johnny’s voice cut through the silence and through the moment.

“I was at a party,” I said, stepping out of the elevator. “How long have you been waiting for me to get back?”

“I came to check in on you and you weren’t around. You didn’t leave a note or nothing.”

“Oh geez, I totally forgot you said you’d come by and check on me.”

“It’s my fault,” Kirk said, trying to deflect some of the blame. “I kind of distracted her with baking cookies and a school party.”

“No, it’s my fault. I planned on texting you, but then Asher showed up.”

“Wait, step back,” Johnny said, looking at me like I’d grown a third eye. “Asher was here.”

“Yeah.”

“And no one died?” Johnny said. He turned to Kirk and asked, “Or did you help her hide the body?”

“No,” I said exasperatedly. “No one died. Asher and I are on speaking terms…of sorts. He wanted to check in on me.”

“After the riot act I read him last night, I’m amazed he had the gall to show his face in this building again.”

“Johnny, what did you do?”

“Nothing that didn’t need to be done years ago,” Johnny explained.

In that moment, if I had been Asher, I probably would have feared for my life. Johnny looked like he was ready to rumble and throw down. Of course, he wouldn’t because that could cause his expensive leather boots to get scuffed.

I glanced at Kirk and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Erika,” he said. “See ya, Johnny. Erika is one lucky lady to have someone like you in her corner.”

“Don’t tell him that,” I joked. “We don’t want his ego to swell.”

“Oh honey, you know my ego is large enough to fill this building. It can’t swell any more than it already has.” This caused all three of us to laugh. Kirk entered his apartment, then I entered mine and Johnny followed me inside. Part of me craved to tell him to go home, but I couldn’t do that.

I took off my coat, hung it, and squatted down to pet the white furball weaving in and out of my legs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bootsy. Was I gone too long? Did you miss momma?”

“I will never understand people who talk to their animals. I’ll call you Dr. Dolittle.” He paused for a second before adding, “I was in Doctor Dolittle when I was in college. I played a llama.”

“Do I want to know?” I asked.

“No,” he admitted with a smile. “It was as weird as it sounds. So, changing topics. You and Kirk seem to be getting close?”

“We’re just friends.”

“Uh-huh. And you’re telling me that if I hadn’t been standing right outside that elevator when the doors opened, you wouldn’t be doing the horizontal mambo right now?”

“Johnny!”

“Yes?”

“It’s not…I don’t…we’re just…Argghh!” I finally let out.

“Uh-huh,” Johnny responded. “I see how it is. It’s too early to tell?”

“Exactly.”

“Do you want it to go there? Because if not, you need to put on those breaks and fast. You know relationships with neighbors can be dicey.”

“I know. Almost as bad as living with someone and a relationship goes belly up.”

“True. Very true.” He looked at me and guided me to sit down on the couch. “I won’t tell you anything you don’t already know. You’re an adult. All I’ll say is, be careful. And if you need me to whack him, I know some people.”

I busted out laughing. “Being an extra in a mob movie isn’t the same as knowing real people in the criminal underworld.”

“Hey, you never know.” But the way he said it made it clear he didn’t.

“My hero,” I said, bringing him in for a hug. “Now go. You’ve checked up on me. I’m doing fine.”

“Really?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Okay, maybe not fine , but I’m doing better. And for now, that’s as good as it’s going to get.”

“Okay. But if you need me, call.”

“I promise,” I said. “Now go. You have a hot guy waiting for you downstairs. Just because you stopped me from having my fun tonight doesn’t mean you can’t have yours.”

“I’m sure if you threw on something a little more see-through and knocked on his door…”

“Johnny!” I said, slapping him against his shoulder lightly.

“Ouch,” he said, pulling back, overacting his pain.

“Yeah, I’ll show you ouch. Now, get outta here,” I said in my best mob accent.

“Wow, you’re less gangsta than I am,” he said as he stood up off the couch.

“Out, I say! Out damn spot. Out!”

“Sure thing, Lady McB.” He walked toward the door. “Night, Erika. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Night, Johnny.” I grabbed Bootsy and held onto him as Johnny opened the door. “And Johnny, thanks for being the most amazing friend a girl could ever ask for.”

He smiled, shrugged and blew me a kiss before shutting the door.