“Kay did this about three years ago too” Felix said, stirring his tea absent-mindedly, “she was gone for a week. When she got back it turns out her grandfather died, and she went to Ireland to scatter his ashes.”
“Who doesn’t tell their friends when their relatives die?”
“Kaylin Colleen McSandsen,” Felix deadpanned.
“What did you do? Did you freak out?”
“Not really. Well, at first I did, we all did. She’s not the type of person to not return phone calls or anything, you know? But when she got back she was the same old Kay. She said that she just wasn’t that close to her grandfather or anything, they just had one of those relationships. So I hung around a bit more than usual, to make sure she was really ok and before I knew it, it was like nothing had ever happened. But Kay gets depressed in the winters” Felix realized aloud, "not dramatic, or anything, but just not as chipper I guess. I dunno, it's weird. She doesn't like the holidays I guess, she's been like this as long as I've known her."
Felix was Kay’s oldest friend. She met him about an hour after moving to New York; he was her neighbor: a gay man that was living on his own for the first time and fully embracing his eccentric, flamboyant side. Kay loved and took care of him, everything from his broken hearts to his hangovers.
Eventually Kaylin bought a duplex in Queens, and Felix got a steady job as “Felicia” in the drag review of “Victor/Victoria: Victorious!” but they still talked to each other regularly. Felix was wearing charcoal gray pants, a black, mock turtleneck and a matching scarf. He was lounging in a chair at one of the outside tables of a café in SoHo; the weather was unseasonably warm and Felix was primped like he was starring in a reality show.
He raised one eyebrow, “I am assuming that everything is OK with Kay, or else you would have told me over the phone right?” he asked noticing Ryan leaning across the table.
“I told her I loved her the last time I saw her,” Ryan said, “and she took off like a speeding bullet. Now I called her box office and they said she took the day off ‘for personal reasons.’” Felix’s eyes stared off, processing what Ryan had just told him. He had an idea what was going on, but it wasn’t his place to tell this story.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Felix commented, trying to keep the worry from his face. “Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?”
“Do you really love her? You haven’t known each other very long.”
“I do. I can’t explain it, but being around her,” Felix waving his hand interrupted Ryan.
“I don’t need to hear about it. But if you do, if you really love her and want to run away and get married or whatever it is you breeders do, you need to know more about her.”
“I would, but I can’t get a hold of her,” Ryan sulked as the waiter came over and handed Felix the check; with a quick gesture, Felix pointed in Ryan’s direction and stood up. Ryan fished out money from his jeans pocket.
“You need to ask her about the scars,” Felix said dramatically and pulled his winter white parka about him, “and then tell her to call me.”
Showing posts with label Felix. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Felix. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Chapter Three
On Tuesday, Kaylin McSandsen the girl from Ohio who was only known to the directors as number 439 arrived at the Sondheim Theater and left a scant two hours later as Kaylin McSandsen, star of the new, highly anticipated Big City Blues the first major, original Broadway production in six years. She was the writer’s first choice (or so she was told) and the director’s favorite from the beginning. All the contracts were signed, and she was given stacks of appointments for the week: vocal lessons, the schedule of rehearsals, dance studio hours, an appointment for portraits with her and the leading man whom she still hadn’t officially met, and of course there was her first paycheck signed by a theater. In smaller productions it was the norm to be paid directly by the producers or from the union directly. This was her signing bonus, and when she looked at the number on the far right, she made a mental note to send a thank-you card to her manager. Tomorrow was the press conference and she was expected at eight in the morning, followed by a luncheon, and then off to vocal lessons at a small, but very reputable workshop a few blocks away.
She hailed a cab from outside the theater, her arms loaded with papers and copies; somewhere in there was the script for the first act of the play, but that didn’t seem to be of significance at this meeting. It was November in New York and the streets were crowded with tourists, even though the holiday season had yet to begin. Broadway itself was packed with out-of-towners bustling to and from the large, campy musicals that had famous Hollywood stars in leading roles in order to garner more attention from the press. Most plays these days were based on movies that Hollywood had originated anyway, but Kaylin’s play was going to be a true original: written from a famous playwright who years ago retired from the profession, and returned only because of his distaste for what was happening to the world he had loved. Critics everywhere hailed the script, and there had been a lot of press regarding the auditions. Kaylin let all of this sink in as she folded herself into a yellow taxi and was shuttled off to home.
Once inside her half of the quiet bungalow in suburban Queens, she set all of the papers on the small desk behind her sofa and headed for the kitchen. Her eyes went directly to the red light on the machine and she couldn’t stop herself from being disappointed when there weren’t any messages.
It had been three days since she’d abruptly left Ryan standing at the mouth of their subway exit. It was a move she wasn’t used to, but was certain of at the time. Kaylin didn’t allow herself to become to absorbed in her own emotions rather, she just followed her instincts and her instincts had told her to back off with Ryan despite her body yearning for her to hurry up. It would have been easy to go back to this home that night, make passionate love and then never see each other again or maybe see each other casually. But she knew, as quickly as she felt the surge of wind hit her face that night, that she didn’t want casual from him. His charm, his smile, the way he reacted to her every thought, made him stand out and made her back off. But she gave him her number. He should have called by now, she didn’t usually misjudge these situations, but maybe she read too much into his reactions that night. Maybe she was wrong.
Her girlfriends admonished her when they called the next morning and found her at home. Even Felix, her best friend since her first day in the ‘big city’ guffawed when she told him that she was given the opportunity to go home with the blue eyed boy she left the club with, but instead turned him down. He shook his head, the smile still on his face, knowing that she must have had her reasons. But she must have misjudged the situation.
Wednesday was everything that she could have dreamed of. Felix had stayed with her the night before and came with her to the theater. This was a moment the two of them had stayed up late nights as young people in the city and dreamed of, it was only right that he was with her. He sat in the audience as the photographers and reporters threw questions of every type at his best friend and he smiled like a proud father as she dazzled them all with her grace and responses. It was a whirlwind of a time, and he sat with her through the luncheon that followed, even getting teary as she was asked to sing the “Star Spangled Banner” before they commenced to eating.
The man they chose opposite her was a dream: tall, dark, and handsome, with chiseled features and a singing voice that sounded like it had grown up around Kaylin’s. His name was Quinn and Felix found out quickly that he was of his persuasion when Kaylin whisked Quinn over to where he sat for introductions.
Felix drove Kay home; he was the only person she knew that had a car, and he always joked that was why she kept him around. They were laughing over some inside joke as they came in the door much later that night; it had been an exhilarating day and night, but one that left her tired and punchy. She tossed her keys into the bowl by the door while Felix went to the kitchen for water.
“You’ve got a message, babe,” his voice echoed through the house.
“Hi it’s Ryan Wiley, from the other night. I, um, escorted you home Saturday? Anyway, just thought I’d give you a call. I landed a role in this seasonal production of The Christmas Toy so I’ve been busy, but anyway, you probably don’t care about all that. Um, I’d love to hear from you. Give me call sometime. I had a, uh, great time Saturday,” and the message clicked off.
“What?!” Kaylin came careening to the back of the house where Felix was standing in the kitchen listening to the message and absently sipping from a water bottle, “He didn’t leave a number?! Seriously? What the hell?!”
“You don’t have caller ID, babe? How the hell do you survive?”
“No one calls my house. Everyone uses my cell. Why the hell did I give him my house number? Ugh.” She flopped down on a stool pushed up near the counter and sulked.
“Well, my dear,” Felix began, “you’ll have to figure something out. He was adorable, and definitely worth another look. Why didn’t you just stick around with him after we left you?”
Kaylin rolled her eyes and kicked off her shoes. “Because,” she began, “because I wanted something more than just sex. I had this feeling. I dunno, I guess I was wrong.”“Um, hello? He just called you. You weren’t wrong, babe. Just impatient.”
She hailed a cab from outside the theater, her arms loaded with papers and copies; somewhere in there was the script for the first act of the play, but that didn’t seem to be of significance at this meeting. It was November in New York and the streets were crowded with tourists, even though the holiday season had yet to begin. Broadway itself was packed with out-of-towners bustling to and from the large, campy musicals that had famous Hollywood stars in leading roles in order to garner more attention from the press. Most plays these days were based on movies that Hollywood had originated anyway, but Kaylin’s play was going to be a true original: written from a famous playwright who years ago retired from the profession, and returned only because of his distaste for what was happening to the world he had loved. Critics everywhere hailed the script, and there had been a lot of press regarding the auditions. Kaylin let all of this sink in as she folded herself into a yellow taxi and was shuttled off to home.
Once inside her half of the quiet bungalow in suburban Queens, she set all of the papers on the small desk behind her sofa and headed for the kitchen. Her eyes went directly to the red light on the machine and she couldn’t stop herself from being disappointed when there weren’t any messages.
It had been three days since she’d abruptly left Ryan standing at the mouth of their subway exit. It was a move she wasn’t used to, but was certain of at the time. Kaylin didn’t allow herself to become to absorbed in her own emotions rather, she just followed her instincts and her instincts had told her to back off with Ryan despite her body yearning for her to hurry up. It would have been easy to go back to this home that night, make passionate love and then never see each other again or maybe see each other casually. But she knew, as quickly as she felt the surge of wind hit her face that night, that she didn’t want casual from him. His charm, his smile, the way he reacted to her every thought, made him stand out and made her back off. But she gave him her number. He should have called by now, she didn’t usually misjudge these situations, but maybe she read too much into his reactions that night. Maybe she was wrong.
Her girlfriends admonished her when they called the next morning and found her at home. Even Felix, her best friend since her first day in the ‘big city’ guffawed when she told him that she was given the opportunity to go home with the blue eyed boy she left the club with, but instead turned him down. He shook his head, the smile still on his face, knowing that she must have had her reasons. But she must have misjudged the situation.
Wednesday was everything that she could have dreamed of. Felix had stayed with her the night before and came with her to the theater. This was a moment the two of them had stayed up late nights as young people in the city and dreamed of, it was only right that he was with her. He sat in the audience as the photographers and reporters threw questions of every type at his best friend and he smiled like a proud father as she dazzled them all with her grace and responses. It was a whirlwind of a time, and he sat with her through the luncheon that followed, even getting teary as she was asked to sing the “Star Spangled Banner” before they commenced to eating.
The man they chose opposite her was a dream: tall, dark, and handsome, with chiseled features and a singing voice that sounded like it had grown up around Kaylin’s. His name was Quinn and Felix found out quickly that he was of his persuasion when Kaylin whisked Quinn over to where he sat for introductions.
Felix drove Kay home; he was the only person she knew that had a car, and he always joked that was why she kept him around. They were laughing over some inside joke as they came in the door much later that night; it had been an exhilarating day and night, but one that left her tired and punchy. She tossed her keys into the bowl by the door while Felix went to the kitchen for water.
“You’ve got a message, babe,” his voice echoed through the house.
“Hi it’s Ryan Wiley, from the other night. I, um, escorted you home Saturday? Anyway, just thought I’d give you a call. I landed a role in this seasonal production of The Christmas Toy so I’ve been busy, but anyway, you probably don’t care about all that. Um, I’d love to hear from you. Give me call sometime. I had a, uh, great time Saturday,” and the message clicked off.
“What?!” Kaylin came careening to the back of the house where Felix was standing in the kitchen listening to the message and absently sipping from a water bottle, “He didn’t leave a number?! Seriously? What the hell?!”
“You don’t have caller ID, babe? How the hell do you survive?”
“No one calls my house. Everyone uses my cell. Why the hell did I give him my house number? Ugh.” She flopped down on a stool pushed up near the counter and sulked.
“Well, my dear,” Felix began, “you’ll have to figure something out. He was adorable, and definitely worth another look. Why didn’t you just stick around with him after we left you?”
Kaylin rolled her eyes and kicked off her shoes. “Because,” she began, “because I wanted something more than just sex. I had this feeling. I dunno, I guess I was wrong.”“Um, hello? He just called you. You weren’t wrong, babe. Just impatient.”
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