Aidan is absent.
Since that afternoon at his apartment, public interest in the play had grown to a crescendo. There have been numerous articles speculating about my acting skills, my history with Aidan, why I’m choosing to do theatre instead of a guaranteed box office hit at this point in my career. There are always paparazzi waiting outside my apartment and even my father’s place.
It’s madness.
The presser is a chance for the production to offer an official story to the world, and they are making a huge production of it, offering the press access to the whole production team instead of doing something easy like releasing a statement.
Where is Aidan? I glance at my watch, nervous at the thought of seeing him and at the possibility that he won’t show.
“Hi,” I look up to see Todd smiling at me. He’s handsome, with short brown hair, gray eyes with nice crinkles at the corners, and the tight athletic body of a dancer. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Todd Feldman.”
“I know,” I return his smile and take his offered hand. “I saw your last musical a few times.”
His grin widens. “That’s great to hear. I’m…I’m honored.”
“Why?” I look around again for Aidan, but he still hasn’t arrived. “You were the one lighting up the stage.”
Todd laughs and I smile, still nervous. I grab a bottle of water from a table stacked with refreshments and take a few sips. Someone comes in from the conference room and I hear the racket from the crowd of reporters on the other side of the door.
Lord! Seven years in the public eye and I haven’t gotten used to it. It still boggles my mind that people are so interested in me. Interested enough that thousands of questions pour into my social media daily.
“Five minutes,” an assistant from the production company announces. “Keep answers to the point, and short. Only about the play.” Her eyes skip to me. “They’ll want to ask about personal stuff, relationships…direct them back to the play and if they get insistent, we’ll shut them down.”
I nod. My publicist said the same thing earlier on a call from L.A.
Natalia comes up beside me. “How’re you doing?”
“So so.” I shrug and take one last sip of my water. Just as I drop the bottle in the trash, Aidan walks into the room. He’s dressed in an ashy gray shirt, black jeans, and a dark jacket. His hair is wavy and messy, as if he’s just rolled out of bed, or some lucky girl has just run her greedy hands through it.
I swallow a sigh.
His eyes are alert, and when they land on me, his lips quirk in a dismissive smirk.
At least you’re here. A triumphant smile creeps onto my lips. You’re doing the play. You’re going to work with me, and you won’t be able to avoid me.
He ignores me after that one glance, speaking to Natalia and a few others until it’s time to enter the conference room. Then he strides past me and through the doors.
The buzz of voices intensifies as all the others go out. I’m the last to enter the conference room and as soon as I do, the noise intensifies and the flash of cameras nearly blind me.
There’s promotional art for the play everywhere, with a huge banner that reads, The Break of Day across the back of the stage. An intern leads me to my seat as someone addresses the press. After a few words, Natalia takes over, and her firm voice details the aims of the production and introduces the production team. I give a small wave when she says my name, stealing a glance at Aidan, who looks uninterested, bored even.
Natalia keeps talking and I can feel the hundreds of eyes on me. I’m the reason most of them are here—the entertainment network reporters and the tabloid magazines with their half-page art and theatre sections. They want to see what the Liz McKay brand is up to. They want to see the body language between me and Aidan and decide if there’s a story they can magnify.
The questions start with one for me. “Why did you pull out of your last project? Many of your fans were eager to see you in that role.”
“I’m sure my fans understand that I’m making the right decision for my career by choosing to work in an acclaimed play such as the Break of Day. It’s a powerful story that needs to be told and I’m honored to be given a chance to tell it.”
“But wouldn’t—”
“We would appreciate it if you kept your questions to issues relating to this play.” The interruption comes from Gary and I gave him a grateful smile.
For the next few minutes, the questions revolve around the play. Natalia answers a few about production schedules, previews and such. I focus on the timbre of Aidan’s voice while he talks about ensuring that this run of the Break of Day preserves the artistic integrity of the story.
“You choose your projects carefully. Why did The Break of Day appeal to you?” The question comes from a reporter from a lifestyle magazine.
“This play
is a seminal work with its exploration of grief, repressed emotions and catharsis. It demands that the audience question long-held beliefs about the expression of human emotion. It’s an important story, one that I feel honored to bring to the stage.”