Later that night, after picking up my new phone, I left my office in a storm after scrolling through endless DM's from creepy guys who wanted me to be their sugar baby.
Whenever I was stressed out, I found my way into this cramped nail salon on 44th and Broadway. The smell of acetone mixed with lavender was oddly comforting.
Tan and I had been coming to this same nail salon since our days at Columbia. Even though we'd graduated five years ago, we still had a standing nail date once a month to catch up.
Thankfully, she'd been able to slip away from the dance studio she worked at to comfort me through this nuclear-life-meltdown.
When I walked in, Tanushree was contemplating the wall of gel polish colors. Her waist-length black hair was pulled up in a tight bun with a pen shoved through it, and she was wearing black leggings and a Columbia dance t-shirt. Her ballerina's knife-sharp posture perfect like always.
When she spied me walking toward her, her show-stopping smile flattened.
I didn't even get out the word hi before the sob lodged in my throat tore free.
"Fuck this day," I said between breaths as Tanushree wrapped me in a tight hug, rubbing circles on my back.
"It's okay, Mare. Let it out. Cry all you want."
Two college-aged girls gossiping at the nail station directly behind us turned to gawk at me as I cried into the sleeve of Tan's faded t-shirt, but I didn't care.
"You wanna know what the worst part is?" I said between tears.
"Your mom's insane media statement?" Tanushree guessed.
I pulled away from her sleeve, wearing a look of shocked outrage. "My mother made a statement?"
"Oh shit. You didn't see it yet, did you?"
I immediately fished my phone out of my purse to Google Eleanor Mitchell's statement. My fingers flew over the keypad.
Tanushree tried to snatch my phone away, but I spun on my heel, searching for what my mom had said.
"Don't do this to yourself, Mare. She's venom."
Tan was right. I should've ignored it. But it was too late. I was already reading lines of text.
"It's sad to see my oldest daughter acting unprofessionally out in public. Clearly, this kind of obscene behavior is the reason all her clients decided to sign with Mitchell Enterprise yesterday. It's the same reason I fired her last year."
I shouldn't be surprised my mother would say something like this. Eleanor Mitchell was like a shark searching for chum in the water. But, fuck, it hurt. Shouldn't my mom try to support me during times like these, not rip me to shreds?
Ms. Kim, the owner of City Nails, shooed Tanushree and I towards the row of pedicure chairs in the back. I didn't even bother grabbing a color. I slid into my usual chair, toed off my strappy sandals, and rolled my wide-leg linen pants to the knee. Tan followed me, taking a seat in the chair to my left.
"This is about what happened in the pool, isn't it?" Mrs. Kim asked, pointing to her nipples as if to explain the comment. "I saw the whole thing online." Then she pointed at her daughter, who was already walking toward Tan and I with two steaming mugs of tea, an apologetic look on her face. "Chae-Young sent it to me last night."
I took the cup of dark red tea and sniffled, "Thank you," before taking a sip.
Tan set a delicate hand on my arm. "I know things look really bad right now, but it's going to be okay." I shook my head as the tub of hot water was filled. "Listen to me, Mare. You are the toughest bitch I've ever met. A picture of your tits isn't going to stop you from building the business you want. You need to start controlling the narrative instead of letting other people tell the story of what happened last night."
I took another sip of tea as I let that thought simmer. Everyone was saying I'd taken the news of Patrick leaving my agency poorly and acted like a spoiled little girl. Drinking too much then falling in a pool. Which wasn't what happened at all.
Chae-Young added some lavender aromatherapy to the water before I put my feet in, looking up at me with a coy smile. "I'm more interested in the guy who saved you. Who is he?"
Mrs. Kim nodded. "He's Korean too. I could tell from the pictures. I bet he's a nice boy."
Tanushree nodded in agreement. "By nice, I hope you mean nasty."
The other women chuckled. I hid my face behind my tea cup as I took another sip.
"Come on, Maren," Tanushree encouraged, "Tell us more about the super hot guy that jumped into a pool in his boxers to save you. I need to hear the story about what happened after he carried you out of the pool. Did you two exchange phone numbers? Or spit?"
"No!" I said defensively. "We did not swap numbers or spit. Oh my god, I can't believe you just said that. I'd almost drowned. He saved me. That is the end of the story."
Tanushree waggled her brows. "I can tell by the look on your face that is not the end of the story. We need details."
I rolled my eyes and leaned back in the leather chair, thinking back on the feel of his warm chest against my back and the feeling of safety I had tucked in his arms. Then there was the kind gesture of giving me his shirt and walking away without being creepy or gawking at my nipples like the rest of the internet had.
He was a nice guy, from what I could tell.
But then there was the talent application.
"Fine," I said, blowing out a breath. I took the next few minutes to explain how he'd given me his shirt so I didn't have to ride the subway back to the Upper West Side in a see-through dress, which earned smiles and awwws from my friends. Then I told them about finding West Tenney's stupidly handsome face in my slush pile.
"Oh shit," Tanushree said, setting her teacup down and looking scandalized. "You don't think he recognized you and saved you just so you'd represent him, do you?"
Chae-Young and her mother exchanged skeptical glances. "I wouldn't recognize the man I buy vegetables from if he was in a swimming pool, and I see him every week," said Mrs. Kim. "That sounds very unlikely. If he is a veteran, he was probably just doing what came naturally to him."
I shrugged, biting down on my lower lip in thought. It was hard to trust that anyone had honorable intentions when so many people around me—even my own mother—didn't.
Could West Tenney be different from the countless cutthroat Broadway hopefuls like Patrick vying for a place at the top?
I went back to my mother's advice not to look for a gem on the streets.
"You're probably right," Tanushree said with a sigh. Then she sat up straight in her chair like she'd just had another amazing idea. Her dark brown eyes wide with excitement. "Maren, girl, this is how you change the narrative. You take West on as a client and say the pool rescue was part of his audition for you."
I threw my hands in the air, waving this ludicrous idea away. "No way! Didn't you hear what I said? He's a liability. No reputable agent would take on an actor with no training, no schooling, and no experience."
Tan gave me one of her pointed looks. "That's your mother talking, not you."
I tried to find the words to combat her assertion that I was just as heartless and cold as my mother, but I couldn't find them. She was right. I'd been trying to run a different kind of talent agency than Mitchell Enterprise, being more client-focused and caring about more than their careers. Still, I was using the same rigorous selection method to find talent.
I was the gatekeeper to opportunity that I found so disgusting. To get the best roles on Broadway, having a good agent who knew the ins and outs of the business was a serious help. Some auditions were only open to those with agents. We negotiated contracts to ensure terms were fair and actors were paid well. We gave advice on whether they should go union or not.
I didn't feel like I owed West Tenney an industry favor for giving me a black shirt. I mean, I could have caught a cab back to the Upper West Side and been fine. But maybe he was the kind of client I could take a chance on. The kind of actor I wanted to represent.
The only problem was the fact that I was incredibly attracted to this man, and being professional would likely prove difficult. But, I could be a bigger person than my hormones. I was a professional—a professional who needed to pay her rent.
"Okay," I breathed out. "I see your point. I'm being too much like Eleanor and not enough like Maren."
Tanushree pulled out her cell phone and started typing away. "Good. So I guess that means we can go up to Ritual tonight and see your rescuer in person. I'll put the whole thing in my stories, then pin that shit to the highlights, and bam–everyone will see that you're not all washed up."
It was my turn to try and snatch the phone out of her hands, but her dancers' reflexes were quicker. She placed the phone to her ear.
"Hi, I'm just calling to see if West is working tonight?"
I wanted to melt into my chair. I wasn't ready to go back to Ritual, the Lower East Side bar tonight. I looked like a train wreck with puffy eyes.
"Oh, he's not?" Tan said into the phone, but was finishing around in her massive black purse. She pulled out a pen and a gum wrapper and started writing something down. "Oh, okay. Thank you so much."
She hung up the phone and gave me a sly look.
"What?" I said, my heart pounding in my chest. "What did they say?"
Tanushree grinned. "Turns out Mr. West works up at The Oiled Olive on Friday nights."
Mrs. Kim and Chae-Young both started laughing, their cheeks pink. Even Tan's golden-almond skin was slightly rosier. Meanwhile, my face was seven shades darker. Dear god. Out of all the places in the City to work at.
The Oiled Olive was a very famous male strip bar—as in the kind where the men take off their clothes.
"We cannot go to The Oiled Olive, Tan. That isn't going to help my reputation. We can't video ourselves with men in banana hammocks dancing around and put it on your social media. They haven't made a filter for that, okay?"
Tan was already on her phone, long fingers typing away. "Chill, Mare. I'm sure he's just a server or a bartender." She gave me another pointed look. "We've all had to do crazy things to make rent. It's just a job. And I mean, look at him. The man probably makes good money serving bachelorette parties drinks."
I swallowed down my judgment. She was right. We all did what we had to do to pay our bills. If West was waiting tables at a strip bar to make money, then good for him.
"I got us two seats in the Olive Pit, which is as close to the stage as you can get," Tan said, shoving her phone back in her purse. "You can thank me later."
I leaned my head against the leather chair and looked up at the ceiling. Trying to tell myself this was for the best.
Maren and Tanushree are going to a male strip club to see West.
I literally cannot wait to share the next chapter with you. It's going to be wild.
Get ready for copious amounts of second hand embarrassment.
xx
AJ