“Rian says, nodding at my constantly vibrating (and still very rice-covered) jeans. My phone’s been going off nearly the entire time we’ve been walking. I don’t know where she’s taking me, but this is the same stretch of sidewalk that I took every night when I was performing in Arsenic and Old Lace. It was a fun one. Opening night had a few critics in the audience and they gave me great reviews…so great, in fact, that my name was whispered and tossed around between some of the big-rig Broadway g...uys. But of course, with my luck, the night they came to see me I came down with a wicked cold and couldn’t hit the F5. My understudy stepped in, and those whispers disappeared into oblivion. I smirk at Rian, who’s still eyeing my buzzing pocket. “This is a date.” “A man with manners.” She lifts an eyebrow and tugs on her collar. My pants weren’t the only casualty during dinner—her jacket has an unknown stain across her left side. Theresa and I have a word for that, and I almost say it out loud, but I catch myself before it rolls off my tongue.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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