The Unidentified Redhead (Redhead #1)(38)
Author: Alice Clayton

“Wow, settle. Hang up the phone and come to the office. Tell me here, where you can’t hurt anyone.”

“Don’t bet on it,” I warned, yanking my Bluetooth out and stepping on the gas, almost causing another accident.

When I was in college, I had a huge crush on one of my best friends. He was in drama school with Holly and me. We were all great friends, but Michael O’Connell was my favorite.

He was incredibly talented. His talent was what drew me to him first. He was still the funniest guy I had ever met: quick witted, dry and an amazing sense of timing. Like a lot of comedic actors, he also had a sweet emo streak that, when cast in dramatic pieces, made us all weep.

He always seemed to be a little interested in me. It was especially evident when I would perform, particularly when I would sing. He would watch me, and I could see the “friend” face slip away, and it was just a guy watching a girl that he liked. But he would keep me at arms length otherwise, always eternally my “buddy.”

It was infuriating.

Then, at the end of junior year, he stunned us all with the news that he was going to be transferring to a fine arts college in Boston, starting in September.

All summer, I knew I had to put up or shut up. I attempted to get him alone constantly, but as we all hung out in a group so much, it was tough. He knew, whether consciously or not, how I felt about him, and he kept me away.

Not to brag, but no one said no to me back then. I dated our college quarterback, the president of the best fraternity on campus, and was briefly tied to a Physics professor. And this guy, this drama geek, was dodging me.

Fuck all that noise.

At a cast party in June, I got drunk and confronted him. Holly, Michael and I were in the kitchen, knee deep in crappy pot and Lynchburg Lemonades when I saw him looking at me, really looking at me—like I always caught him doing when I was on stage.

I didn’t think about what I was going to do, but without warning or much thought at all, I pushed him up against the pantry and kissed him, long and hard. I heard Holly say, “It’s about time” and walk out of the kitchen. His eyes were surprised, but then he got into it. He kissed me back, both of us dropping our drinks. I finally pulled back and told him in no uncertain terms that he was coming home with me that night. He agreed.

It had been amazing. We made love all night—and I hate the term “made love”—but that’s what it was. It was three years of love and lust spilling out, and the fact that we were such good friends made it even better. He told me he had been in love with me since freshman year.

I lay awake all night, planning. He couldn’t leave now … he said he was in love with me. And once I kissed him, I realized that I was in love with him, too. It went way beyond a crush. This was who I wanted. I couldn’t wait for the next morning.

As it turned out, I really could have waited. It was all kinds of awkward.

He wouldn’t even look at me. He was out of there as fast as he could put his pants on, and when he saw me later that day backstage, he couldn’t even look me in the eye.

We limped through the rest of that summer. I slowly walled up “All Things Michael O’Connell,” and when he left, I never saw him again. I heard about him from time to time through our alumni contacts. He’d become a writer, doing a lot of work off Broadway and then eventually receiving great success writing for both TV and film. That was all I cared to know. And now that motherfucker held my career in his hands.

God damn the luck.

I tore through Holly’s outer office, pointing Sara back into her chair when she tried to get up. I was seething mad. It didn’t matter that I had nailed, and I mean freaking nailed my audition. All my anger, all my angst, all the hurt that I didn’t even know was still in there was channeled into my performance, and I’d been only slightly pleased when I saw Michael’s reaction. He was stunned.

I was just mad.

I slammed into Holly’s office, where she was on the phone. Her eyes went wide when she saw me, and I heard her say,

“Tom? I am going to have to call you back. Yes, love to Katie. Yes, OK, bye.” She hung up the phone. We stared at each other like a Mexican standoff.

Cue tumbleweeds.

“Are you kidding me?” I said quietly.

“All right now, listen. I didn’t know that he—”

“Are you kidding me?” I repeated, my voice beginning to rise.

“Look, Grace. Settle down,” she responded, her pitch mimicking my own.

“Are. You. Kidding. Me?” I yelled, breaking down. I sank into a chair, hysterical sobs breaking over me like a tsunami. All the crap from behind that wall came out, and all over the floor of her office.

She let me cry, handing me tissues when my nose started to run. She knew me well enough to just let me wade through it. When my sobs began to sound merely pathetic rather than anguished, she began to talk.

“First, Grace, I had no idea he was the same guy. It’s a common name.

Second, I had no idea that you were still so upset over him. I thought you had let all that go. Third—”

I interrupted her. “I didn’t know I was still so upset, but seeing him—”

“Third … you got the part,” she said.

There was silence as I digested what she just said.

“What?” I asked, unsure that I had really heard her right.

“You heard me,” she said.

Holy Shit.

“What?” I asked again, a smile beginning to break through.

“You got the part,” she said, starting to get a little loud.

“Say it again,” I said, really smiling now.

“You got the motherfucking part!” she now screamed.

“Holy shit!” we both screamed together.

Sara came running. We were jumping up and down, screaming, and I had snot running all over my face. She backed out again quickly. I got the part. I got the lead in a musical. I got the lead in a musical that was being workshopped on Broadway.

On Broadway.

In New York.

In New York.

But what about …

Shut it.

I pushed it away and felt the happiness.

We had already started to figure everything out, and when we looked at a calendar and compared the dates, we were stunned to realize that I would have to leave for New York in ten days.

Ten days.

We began to plan. First, I was pulled out of the showcase. We called my scene partner and explained, and being a true professional, he was happy for my new job and wished me luck. Holly knew another actor that could step in for me and partner with him. No problem.