26
T
he line of people waiting to audition snaked around the corner and all the way down the block. Charly walked next to the line, guessing there had to be hundreds of people ahead of her. She overheard someone saying that people had showed up as early as the night before. She gripped Marlow's leash in her hand, continuing to put one foot in front of the other, as if she was only walking the dog.
“Move it,” a cop said, keeping the crowd in check.
Charly eyed him, then smiled.
“Move it,” he said to her, then pointed the other way. “And go back that way. The line's back there.”
She gulped. New Yorkers were tough. At home she could've gotten away with what she was up to, but not here. And, she told the cop, the only thing she was doing was checking out who was going to be on the next number-one reality TV showâ
and looking for a way to sneak in so I can be one of the headliners
, she thought, crossing the street. The cop couldn't tell her she couldn't walk down the other side of the block. The people auditioning were numerous, and had shown up in much larger numbers than she'd thought, she realized when she reached the corner and walked head-on into some station interns.
“Can you believe these people think they're all gonna get seen today? We've endured at least five hundred since this morning,” a girl began, then caught sight of Marlow. “Oh. My. Gosh. She's just the cutest,” she said to Charly. “I've been wanting a shih tzu for like forever.”
“Huh. I bet'cha she's better than that terror, Sugar,” an intern muttered.
Charly stopped, letting the first intern play with Marlow. She smiled to herself, thinking her dog was better than Sugar, whoever Sugar was. “Thanks. Yes, shih tzus are sweethearts,” she said to the girl, trying to hear what the other intern was saying about Sugar, then noticed the conversation dwindling off. “Sorry, but we've got to go. There are too many people around here for her to concentrate on using it. Sorry again,” she apologized to the girl, seeing that the other interns were walking away. Charly needed to see which direction they were going in, but didn't want to follow them because she didn't want to alert them. “Say bye to the nice lady, Marlow,” she said to Marlow, then pretended to be walking her.
The group of interns crossed the street, walking in the opposite direction of the line. They walked in front of the building, passed it, then turned.
Going through a side door
, Charly noted, running to catch up and see them, she hoped, before one of them spotted her. With just a second to spare, she noticed them open a door, then enter. She looked at her watch. She didn't know how she was going to do it, but, somehow, she'd fit Marlow into her audition. And if that didn't work, she had plan Bâthe side door the interns had just disappeared into. She turned to walk away, then was stopped by a familiar name.
“Sugar! Stop it!”
Charly turned and saw a small black dog running toward her and Marlow. She couldn't tell what kind of dog it was, but it was fast and out of control.
“Sugar! I. Said. Stop,” a young lady yelled. She wore a college T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and slip-on shoes. “Please, stop her!”
Charly looked around, and realized that Ms. College was talking to her. She shrugged, then turned toward a barreling Sugar, and squatted. She put Marlow between her thighs, then held out her hands for Sugar, who ran into them with no problem.
“Oh, thank you,” the girl said, out of breath. “There is just no controlling this one. If you hadn't have stopped her, Mr. Day would've fired me over his Sugar. You'd think controlling a show would help you control your pet, but no . . .”
Sugar gripped Charly by the throat. So Sugar belonged to the creator of the reality television series? She nodded, noticing the girl had an all-access pass around her neck. “No problem,” she said and picked Sugar up and handed her to the girl.
Sugar leaped in the air. Both Charly and the other girl reached to catch her before she hit the ground. Suddenly, Charly's legs were in the air and her butt was off the ground. Around her ankle was Marlow's leash.
“Oh!” the other girl said, covering her mouth as Charly's backside collided with the sidewalk.
“Ouch! Ugh!” Charly grimaced between gritted teeth, not knowing how she'd gotten caught in Marlow's leash. She was in so much pain, she was sure it'd take minutes to get up.
Marlow whined, licking Charly's hand.
“Oops. Thanks!” the girl said, then grabbed Sugar and jetted down the block toward the intern entrance.
Charly shook her head. The least the girl could've done was make sure that she was okay. At the rate her pain was stabbing her, she was sure she wasn't going to make the audition. “Come on, Marlow,” she said, crawling to her knees, then forcing herself up. With step after step of pain, she finally made it back around the corner to the line. Before she got to the end of it, she saw the crowd start to disperse. Auditions were off for the day. She shook her head, then headed back the way she came. She was too hurt to walk, and she didn't want to get lost in the crowd. Charly figured the fastest way to a cab was the empty side of the block.
“Oh,” she said, when she sat on almost the exact spot that her butt had connected with the ground. Sugar's walker, rude as she was, had left a gift for Charly, the girl just didn't know it. On the ground was her all-access pass. It wasn't on the band, but it was there.
Â
“Back so soon?” the doorman greeted her when she and Marlow got out of the cab.
Charly nodded, gripping a bag of junk food and drinks she'd purchased from the nearby deli, then set Marlow on the ground. “Yes. I'm glad too. It's been a long day,” she said, wanting to add, “And I need to get some food and rest,” but thought better of it. She walked into the building with the doorman on her heels. He beat her to it and turned the key to allow her access to her aunt's, and Charly zipped to the penthouse.
When the doors opened, the scent of food lingered in the air and relief moved through her. It felt so good to be home, even if her aunt hadn't said she could live there, and she couldn't wait to eat and lie down. Stepping off the elevator, she kicked off her boots and headed to the bedroom where she'd left her luggage. Opening the door, she exhaled, set Marlow on the bed, and immediately began disrobing. It was nice to have her own bathroom, she thought, discarding her clothes on the way. Down to her panties and bra, she entered the bathroom and turned on the shower.
“Who are you?” a lady's voice asked.
“It's me. . . .” Charly turned, then almost jumped out of her skin. She'd never seen the woman before, and assumed she must be the maid. “Sorry, I'm Charly. My aunt knows I'm here.”
The lady reared back her head and put her hands on her hips. “Who is your aunt?”
Charly huffed. Clearly the maid needed an attitude adjustment. “Your boss. My aunt owns this place.”
The lady's eyebrows and voice rose. “
I
own this apartment, and I don't know you or your aunt. You have one minute to get out, or I'm calling the cops.”
27
C
harly got off the elevator two floors below. She knew by now that the lady, whoever she was, had alerted security and, probably, the doorman. Hustling down the hallway, she dug in her purse for her phone. She was sure she had the correct address, and could've kicked herself for not walking through the entire apartment before heading to the television audition. But she hadn't had time. Her heart raced and she shook in the boots she'd barely had time to put on. Her eyes searched for an exit sign as her fingers dialed Stormy.
“Stormy,” she yelled in a loud whisper. “Have you heard from Auntie?” She spotted a sign that said STAIRS, then jogged to it, clutching Marlow in the same hand she held her phone and wheeling her luggage behind her.
“No. I left a couple of messages, but she hasn't called back yet. I guess she's still at work,” Stormy said. “Why do you sound so out of breath?”
Charly pushed through the exit door, then stood in the stairwell while she updated Stormy on the happenings. Leaning against the wall, she caught her breath. There was no way she could talk to her sister and walk down the stairs quietly. Her hands were too full.
“So what are you gonna do? Can you call Mason's cousin back? Maybe she can pick you up.”
Charly shook her head no. “Yes, that's what I'm gonna do, Stormy,” she lied. There was no way she was going to call Mason's cousin back. If she wanted a ride, she'd hail one. That seemed to be the only thing Mason's family was going to offer her, and she couldn't blame them. They didn't even know each other. Charly didn't even know the woman's name. “I'm going to call her after I call Mason. He's supposed to be coming here.”
“Un-uhn,” Stormy said. “I wouldn't count on it. At least not for a week or so. His mom is sick.”
Charly kicked her heel against the wall. “Okay. It's no problem. I'll call or text you later and let you know what's up. And I'll keep trying Auntie. You do the same.” She hung up with Stormy and made her way down flight after flight of stairs, then cracked a door leading to the fourteenth floor. Carefully, she looked both ways before entering the floor completely, and saw the hall was empty. Her heart still drummed in her chest, and she could hear its beat in her ears and back of her throat. Exhaling, she made her way to the service elevator located off an almost hidden nook at the end of the hall. She guessed people with a lot of money didn't have to be bothered with the sight of the help's transportation to their floor, and she was thankful for it. Tucked away in a recessed part of the apartment building, it had allowed her to travel to the basement without being seen.
The doors opened without so much as a ding, and Charly held her breath for a second and listened. Not a sound met her ears. She poked out her head, looked left and right, and not a soul was in sight. She nodded, gripped her luggage and tugged on Marlow's leash, then stepped off. She passed several doors, and, to her dismay, all of them were locked. Finally, at the end of the hall, she saw one with a sign on it that read PRIVATE. Charly shrugged, then wrapped her hand around the doorknob and tried to turn it. It didn't move. She shook her head. Just like all the others, it was locked, and she wasn't surprised. In a building such as the one she was in, she didn't expect anything to be unsecure. Marlow whined, then tried to dart down the hall. Charly planted her feet firmly on the ground, but almost tripped over Marlow's leash. She grabbed the knob to help keep her balance, and the door eased opened.
“Huh!” she said. The door was locked, but it wasn't closed all the way.
The room was dark. Pitch black and eerie, but Charly didn't care. She needed a place to sleep, and it was either here or on the street. Closing the door behind her and Marlow, she felt on the wall for a light switch, then perked. She pushed a button and the room came to life. She was in a good-sized storage room. Boxes with apartment numbers lined a wall, shelves were on another, and holiday decorations were tucked here and there. Charly walked through the room, taking in everything and trying to see where she and Marlow would sleep. She turned a corner she hadn't seen when she first entered, and her shoulders relaxed a bit. There was an old dusty cot along the wall that looked as if it hadn't been used in forever. “Yes,” she said, when she made her way over to it, and patted her hand on it. A cloud of dust rose, telling her that no one had slept here in a long while, and she knew she was safe for the night. She turned and almost jumped in the air in glee. A tiny bathroom, barely big enough to be a broom closet, opened off the room. It had a toilet and sink, and that was all she needed.
She went on a scavenger hunt, digging in boxes until she found something to cover the cot with and something she could sleep under. In a box marked XMAS, she found a long gold ribbon, and two ceramic candy bowls, which she filled with water and the food the veterinarian had given her. Still rifling through the storage space, she found paper for Marlow to go potty and an outlet to charge her phone. Then she opened all the sweets she'd purchased from the store earlier, and ate them for dinner.
28
T
he morning came without event. At least, Charly thought so. The storage room had no windows, so she couldn't really be sure what time it was. She turned on her side, then coughed. A billow of dust rose, and she waved it away. She reached for her cell phone, pressed the button, and looked at the clock. She had plenty of time to get ready for auditions. Rolling to a sitting position, she put her feet on the floor. Her boots met it with a thump. She'd slept in her clothes.
Marlow stirred next to her. Charly had kept her on the cot with her. There was no way she was going to let Marlow sleep on the floor. For all she knew, there could be rats down there. She was in New York, after all.
Her phone buzzed in her handâa text from Stormy had come through while she was asleep. It said to call her aunt. Charly exhaled. She'd forgotten all about calling her aunt, though she had remembered to keep her promise to Stormy, and she'd texted her a lie saying that she was spending the night over Mason's cousin's house, then had curled up and called it a night.
“Hello, Auntie?” Charly asked when an early-morning voice greeted her ears. It was raspy, so it was hard to tell to whom it belonged.
“Charly? Charly, is that you?” her aunt asked.
“Yes. I'm here. I'm here, and you told me to call you when I got here,” she rattled, “but you never answered.”
Her aunt laughed. “Slow down, Charly. You talk a mile a minute just like your dad. If I didn't answer, that means I was at work, baby. Now tell me, where's here?”
“New York. In the city,” Charly informed, still whispering and petting Marlow.
Again, her aunt laughed. “I know that, Charly. But
where
are you in New York? It's a big city.” A train sounded in the background, followed by a strong breeze.
“Manhattan. But where are you? I went by your apartment, and they said you didn't live there. I went by . . . one second,” she said, fishing in her purse for the paper with the address on it. She found it, then read the address off to her aunt.
Her aunt laughed. “Close, but wrong. I don't live on Park Avenue. I live just
off
Park Avenue. Park Avenue in
Harlem
. Harlem is still Manhattan. . . . I'll explain later. Right now I'm on my way to work. Just tell me where you are, and I'll meet you there when I get off. Or you can meet me there.”
Â
She was in a cab and headed to the audition before she knew it. Her pulse was still racing, and she didn't know how she'd gotten past the doorman, but she did. The cabbie zipped through traffic, punching on his brakes every couple of minutes, making Charly's head jerk. Her stomach turned from all the swerving and braking, but she wouldn't complain.
He swerved and stopped. “Here good enough?” he asked, pressing on the meter.
Charly took some money out of her pocket, paid him, and hopped out. “Keep the change,” she said, gripping Marlow with one arm and shaking her luggage handle until she freed it from where it was lodged in the back seat. “Yes,” she said, setting Marlow on the ground, then reaching into her purse, and hanging the all-access pass around her neck that was hanging on the gold Christmas ribbon she'd found while searching the storage room.
She turned the corner, walking quickly down the street. Marlow trotted next to her like the perfect little dog, and Charly couldn't have been more thankful. The entrance was in front of her before she knew it. Charly gulped back the anxiousness that was rising in her chest, reached for the door, and said a silent prayer. She hadn't expected it to open, but it did. Adjusting the pass around her neck, she walked down the busy hall, trying to avoid all eye contact. She needed to blend in.
“Hey, you. Girl with the dog and luggage,” a voice said.
Charly kept moving. “Can't,” she said, without turning around. “I gotta go get Sugar. She's scheduled for socialization training today,” Charly lied to whoever it was, walking straight ahead and sneaking quick looks into open doors as she passed them. She had no idea where Sugar was, but she'd find out. She'd find her, then figure out what to do next. She didn't really have a plan.
Footsteps followed after her. “Wait a second,” the same voice said.
Charly held her breath, then stopped and turned around. She came face-to-face with a guy a bit older than her, who looked like he'd been dipped in caramel. Tall and lanky, he had the brightest brown eyes she'd ever seen and a prominent mole on the right side of his chin.
“Yes?” she asked; then her eyes widened when he took off his baseball hat. “Oh,” slipped out of her mouth, and she could've kicked herself. His hair was a shock of gray.
“Genetic,” he explained. “So what are you doing with the bags?” he asked. “If you're here to socialize the monster, why the luggage?”
Charly was quick with her lie. “Socialization. First I'm going to let her and this puppy play together, then introduce her to other dogs and people in the park. After that, we're going to work on socializing her with objects around. Mr. Day wants Sugar to be able to travel through the airport and not run from rolling baggage.”
The guy smiled and nodded. “Makes sense. You can just put the luggage in the room down the hall, last door on the right, until you need it,” he said, then turned around.
Major relief swept through Charly. She walked down the hall as fast as she could without dragging Marlow, and found the room the guy had told her about. In a flash, she'd almost thrown her luggage inside, and was on her way back out into the hall to find the audition room, but then something caught her eye. He'd told her to store her bags in Sugar's area, she discovered when her eyes met the doggy playpen, toys, bowls of food and water, and a potty area lined with training pads. Charly picked up Marlow. “I'm sorry, baby,” she said, setting her in the playpen. “But I promise I'll be right back. I gotta go win us a spot on this reality television show series.”
Â
QUIET: AUDITION IN PROGRESS met Charly's eyes when she turned the corner. There, lined up against the wall, were some of the interns she'd seen the day before. Charly smiled, then stuck the all-access badge in her shirt. The girl who'd played with Marlow was there.
“Where are you coming from?” she asked, then stopped. She eyed Charly carefully. “Don't I know you?”
Charly nodded. “From yesterday.”
The intern raised her brows. “The girl with the dog.” She looked Charly up and down suspiciously, then her eyes landed on Charly's boots. “Brown combat boots. Red shoestrings.” She looked at the other interns, who nodded, making Charly uncomfortable.
Charly tilted her head. “Yes . . . why?”
The girl shook her head. “It's just different. A good look though. So . . .”
A different intern walked up on the group, clutching a clipboard to her chest. “Are you one-zero-three-four?” she asked Charly.
“Um,” Charly began. “Yes.”
The intern nodded. “Well, it's about time. I was calling your number. You almost lost your spot.”
“Bathroom,” Charly lied.
“In there,” the intern pointed, then followed behind Charly as she entered the door.
“Number one-zero-three-four,” the girl said, then walked out of the room.
A blond lady with a pleasant smile gestured for Charly to sit. “Have a seat. Tell me about yourself.”
Charly stammered. She was ready to audition, not divulge her life story. “I thought this was an audition. This is where I try out for the new television show, right?” she asked, making sure to keep a smile on her face and sound as sweet as she could.
The lady nodded. “Well, yes and no. This part is the interview. There's no real way to audition someone for a reality show, you know.”
Charly nodded, then exhaled. She tried to tell herself to calm down, that everything was going to be okay. “My name is Charly St. James. I'm sixteenâ”
“Why don't you tell us where you're from, and how much you went through to make it to this interview?” a man's voice said from behind. “Just keep looking straight ahead. Talk into the camera.”
“Um . . . um,” Charly stammered again.
You can do this. You can.
“Well, I'm from Illinois. I came here by bus, train . . . you name itâ”
The woman's eyes widened and her cheeks flushed.
“Let's skip to how you got inside the building through the employee entrance.”
Charly was going to die. She felt her heart stop beating, then its thump slowing down in her ears until it became an almost nonexistent thud . . . thud . . . thud.
“Huh?” she finally said, then turned around. “Oh. God.” There in front of her was the man with the shocking gray hair.
He proffered his hand to her. “Nice to meet you, Charly St. James. I'm Mr. Day, the creator of this show and Sugar's owner. I must say, I've never met anyone who wanted something so badly.”
Charly shrugged. “That's because you hadn't met me. Let me reintroduce myself. My name is Charly. Charly St. James, television star.”