I lit up immediately and almost choked on the thick smoke that rolled down my throat on the first drag. But still I carried on, puffing madly as I raced uptown, my nerves not feeling very soothed by nicotine. Especially when I realized I didn’t have any mints for the smoky breath factor. After all, it wasn’t necessary for Kirk to know about this little transgression. I was going to quit, just as soon as—just as soon as I got through this…stuff.
I stopped at the first deli I came across, grabbed a box of Al-toids, then stood impatiently behind a little old lady who appeared to be cleaning out her wallet judging by all the coins she was plopping onto the counter to pay for two rolls of toilet paper. Finally she was closing her wallet with a happy little snap and idling away slowly. I practically plowed her down as I slapped a five-dollar bill on the counter and grabbed the change the clerk quickly made.
Once out on the street again, I glanced at my watch, saw it was four-twenty and I still had eight blocks and four avenues to go. I briefly considered a cab, then, gazing at the traffic -clogged avenue, realized it might be faster on foot. When I got to Times Square, I found myself stuck behind some sort of walking tour. I dodged through the crowd of knapsack-clad, photo-shooting tourists (it wasn’t easy and it earned me more than one dirty look), then glanced at my watch again. Shit, I was going to be late. Kirk was going to kill me. Oh, God, now I sounded like Michelle.
I tossed down my cigarette. Then, feeling regretful that I hadn’t gotten the necessary dosage of nicotine, I pulled out another. I lit up, briefly considering the insanity of what I was doing. But I was getting fucking married. These things were supposed to be nerve-racking. I mean, I was getting involved in a life. You know, husband, kids, mortgage, combined bank accounts. Oh God, oh God, oh God. I dragged deep, almost stepping into traffic until I realized the light had turned green and the traffic was fully prepared to roll right over me. I stepped back onto the curb and took another fretful puff, as if in thanksgiving that I still had my life. My wits, on the other hand…
I took a deep breath, gazed up at the glittering billboards of
Times Square as I waited for the light to change and felt some measure of comfort at the sight. Tourists aside, this was still one of the most amazing places in New York City. I could remember countless walks through Times Square, alone or with Justin, who was a veritable scholar on this little corner of the city and would often drag me up here to shoot some footage, all the while narrating the story of how this glittering landscape had come into being. I smiled up at the place where the ball dropped on New Year’s Eve, remembering the year I had ventured here for that holiday with Justin; how we stood, crushed among the throngs, holding hands to keep from being separated in the crowd. I remember I had held my breath, too. Dreaming, as that ball fell toward the shrieking crowd that I would one day, like Frank Sinatra sang, make it here. And I would, I realized, now that I had given up the crutch of false security I knew Rise and Shine had been to me. Now I had a real chance to pursue my dreams. Now I had the power to make myself truly happy.
Of course, I also had the power to make Kirk incredibly unhappy, I realized when I reached the corner of Forty-seventh and Fifth and found him glancing around angrily.
But rather than feel bad, I felt just as annoyed as I had last night, when he’d bolted out of the bar, claiming he had better things to do. Clearly he had better things to do right now, I thought, noticing the way he was glancing at his watch as I approached.
I couldn’t even bring myself to kiss Kirk hello, but he didn’t seem to notice, grabbing my hand and leading me down the street until he realized he didn’t know where we were going. So I took the lead, stopping before Rudy’s steel door, the first feeling of excitement—or was that anxiety?-—fluttering through my stomach.
“What is this place?” Kirk said when I led him through the door and down the darkened hall.
“Rudy’s,” I said.
“It looks like a crack den,” he replied.
I was starting to wish it were. I could have used a solid dose of something to escape the heat that curled through me.
But once we opened the door to the store itself and I saw Rudy—this time in a purple pinstripe shirt that bared even more of that hairy chest and gold chains and an even louder pair of electric-blue trousers—I felt better.
“Hey, Rudy,” I said, smiling at him once he looked up from the newspaper he had been leaning over a glass case to read, a cigarette perched between his thick, ring-clad fingers.
“Sweetheart, how are you?” he said, his merry face breaking into a smile as he slammed the newspaper shut, dropped the cigarette into the ashtray and approached us.
“You’re looking even more beautiful today,” he went on, grabbing me in his short arms for a hug. In truth, I welcomed that embrace—throat-gagging cologne and all. It was nice that someone was glad to see me today, I thought, flicking a glance at Kirk, who stood beside me eyeing the whole exchange with what looked like suspicion.
“Is this the guy?” Rudy said, still holding my hand and pulling my ear close to his, as if Kirk couldn’t hear what he was saying.
“Yes. Rudy Michelangelo, meet Kirk Stevens,” I said, turning toward Kirk and waving him closer.
Kirk held out a hand, which Rudy pumped vigorously. “Michelangelo, huh? Is that your real name?”
Rudy’s eyes widened as he released Kirk’s hand and glanced at me. “Just like the sculpta,” he said, waving a hand in the direction of that infamous David, who, I noticed, now sported a thick gold bracelet in addition to the rope chain.
“Kirk came with me to look at rings,” I announced. Then, no longer feeling any need to hide the fact that I had all but put a down payment on one the last time I was here, I continued, “You remember that ring you showed me when I came with Michelle? The Tiffany cut? Four prongs, two baguettes?”
“Sweetheart, you don’t need to tell me. Rudy remembers what you want,” he said, tapping a finger to his temple. “I got a mind like a trap.”
He turned, picked up his cigarette, then headed straight for the case that held the ring.
Kirk didn’t seem to mind that I had all but made my selection without him. Instead, as we followed behind Rudy, he took the opportunity to lean over and whisper, “Where the hell did you find this guy?”
“He’s Michelle’s mother’s cousin,” I whispered back.
“Are you sure he’s legit?”
“Oh, he’s the real thing, all right,” I said, a bit testily. As if he’d insulted a member of my family.
As we approached the case, Rudy dropped his cigarette into the ashtray he kept there before he unlocked the case and unerringly reached for the ring I had fallen in love with.
I slid it on my finger and held it out. It was every bit as beautiful as I remembered.
Kirk leaned in close, studying the ring from all angles. “Are you sure this is the one you like?”
“Of course!” I said. Hell, at the moment I was surer of this ring than I was of him.
He looked at it again, then glanced up at Rudy. “Do you have one of those loupes so I can get a better look?”
“Sure, guy, anything you want,” Rudy said, with a glance at me. He turned to a drawer behind him, pulled out a loupe and handed it to Kirk. Then he grabbed his cigarette and began to puff, watching as I handed Kirk the ring. Kirk leaned over it, the loupe placed up to his eye as a whirl of smoke drifted in front of his face.
“Do you mind?” he said, waving the hand with the ring at the smoke, which I realized I had been savoring, probably hoping to get some of that soothing nicotine secondhand.
“Hey, I’m sorry, guy,” Rudy said, taking another tug on the cigarette before he stubbed it out in the tray. He blew out the last puff of smoke, then winked at me as Kirk bent over the ring again.
“What are those black specks I see?” Kirk asked, looking up at Rudy again.
“Specks? What are you talking—?” Rudy took the ring and loupe from Kirk and looked. “Oh, jeez,” he said, pulling the loupe away and blowing on it. “Ashes. Sorry about that, guy,” he said handing the loupe and ring back to Kirk, who leaned over them once again as Rudy rattled off the facts about the cut and clarity. “The diamond in there is almost flawless,” he continued. “No diamond is completely perfect, of course.”
“How much does something like this go for?” Kirk asked.
“This ring right here?” Rudy studied Kirk’s face as if he wasn’t sure he was going to part with it at any price. “Ten thousand dollars,” he said, looking Kirk right in the eye.
“But, Rudy, I thought—” I began, but Rudy silenced me with a glance that said he knew what he was doing. I didn’t know what he was doing, frankly, except making me very nervous.
“That’s a bit more than I wanted to spend,” Kirk said, gazing right back at him.
“Well, you got yourself a beautiful girl there. Don’t you think she deserves a beautiful ring? I mean, come on, guy, we’re talking about your future wife here.”
That’s right, I thought, realizing once again what a big step we were taking. This was the ring I was going to wear forever. But when I looked up and saw how uncomfortable Kirk looked, I cringed. I thought about his solid budgeting, his careful approach to everything, and realized that maybe he was right to be that way. Maybe it was ridiculous to go into debt over a piece of jewelry. Suddenly I found myself saying, “Perhaps you could show us a few other things.”
Rudy looked at me as if I had betrayed him. But rather than express the questions that formed in his eyes as he glanced first at me and then at Kirk, he said, “Okay, if that’s what you wanna do…”
He started pulling out rings, keeping to round stones, as he knew that was my preference. But no matter how many rings I slipped on my finger, none of them made me feel like that first one did. After a while, I could feel Kirk getting restless beside me, and I think even Rudy was started to feel a little disgusted, though whether at me or Kirk, I couldn’t tell. Finally, I slipped on a plain platinum band with a single solitaire that was just under a carat and just within the price range Rudy had finally gotten out of Kirk.
“This one’s kinda nice…” I said, looking up hopefully at Kirk, who was already eyeing his watch.
I turned to Rudy, seeking some counsel there, because in truth I no longer knew what I wanted.
Rudy picked up the ring and eyed it through the loupe. “Yeah, it’s not a bad stone for the price. A few flaws, but nothing too serious. Not the caliber of the first ring, of course, but, hey, no diamond is perfect, right?”
And no man, I thought, looking up at Kirk, who was now frowning at his watch with displeasure. “Look, we should get moving soon if I’m gonna make my flight. Is that the one you like?”
I hesitated, my mind in a whirl again. When I felt Rudy’s hand on mine, I looked up, startled. “Hey, this ring will be here—or another one like it. Why don’t you think about it?” He stared hard into my eyes as if trying to send me some message. “After all, it’s a big decision,” he said, his gaze drifting briefly to Kirk.
I knew then that Rudy wasn’t just talking about the ring…
When we stepped out on to the street again, I had to practically run to keep up with Kirk’s stride. “I don’t understand what your big hurry is,” I said, when I finally met his pace. “It’s only six—your flight doesn’t leave until nine o’clock.”
“Unlike you, I don’t like to be late. If I miss this plane, the next one isn’t until eleven, and I’ve got to be on the green tomorrow with Ken Norwood by nine. I didn’t think this was going to take so long.”
“Sorry to be such an inconvenience,” I said tartly. “Maybe I should schedule our wedding between your next two trips. I’m sure Michelle knows a good drive-thru church. All we’d need to do is rent a car…”
That stopped him. “Look, Ange, I’m sorry if this was a little rushed. I’ll make it up to you when I get back. Besides, we’ll probably have some celebrating to do. Aren’t you meeting with that agent on Monday about the contract?” he asked, raising his hand to hail a cab.
“Oh! That’s another thing I need to talk to you about. I’ve decided not take the contract.”
He dropped his hand and frowned. “Why?”
“Well, I spoke to Colin—you know he went into his negotiation on Friday, and according to Rena, we’d be getting pretty much the same contract. Anyway, he told me there’s a no-compete clause in there. Meaning I can’t perform in any other roles without the network’s prior approval.”
“And?” he asked, as if he still didn’t understand.
“Well, that’s certainly going to limit my other options, don’t you think? I mean, I can’t sign a three-year contract that limits my ability to accept other roles!“
He stared at me like I was a crazy woman. “You mean to tell me you would give up that money just on the vague hope that maybe someone else will want to cast you?”
“Vague hope?” I said, my anger rising. It suddenly occurred to me that the man I was going to marry, the man whom I’d put all my faith in, had no faith whatsoever in me. “I’ve been auditioning. I’ve sent out head shots. I want to do something else besides leap around with a bunch of kids!”
His eyes narrowed on me. “So you’re not gonna sign.”
“Don’t you think I shouldn’t?”
He snorted. “What are you gonna do instead? Spend your life waiting in line at auditions? Screaming at bodies falling from windows for a two-second minute of film in a DeNiro flick? Oh, wait, maybe you can get a theater role again. That way you can breathe in dust mites five nights a week while playing a role only two percent of the population will ever see!”
His words brought out all my fears. Until I remembered that I couldn’t allow fear to stop me anymore. Besides, things were different now. I was different now. I understood better what it took to make it in this business—a commitment to the right opportunities. I saw something in myself now— something I wanted to believe in. And I wasn’t the only one. There was that casting director who’d called me. And Justin. “Things are changing for me, Kirk. I had a casting director interested in me recently. I have an agent now—” At least, I hoped I had an agent, after I told Viveca my decision on Monday. But no matter what happened on Monday, I knew I had to try. I also knew I was going to need a lot of support— support I’d hoped the man I’d marry would give me. “I’m going to make it this time out. I know it,” I said forcefully, the very words bringing me strength. “But I need someone who believes in me, who will stand by me. That’s what getting married is about, Kirk. Being there for the person you love, no matter what.”