New Beginnings: A Broadway Fanfiction

One

December 1st, 8:30 a.m

I woke up to the muffled sounds of my phone ringing between my sheets. I grumbled and rubbed the sleep from my eyes with one hand, while using the other to blindly feel around the comforter. I eventually found my phone wedged between my foot and a pillow that had somehow found its way to the edge of my bed. I brought my phone to a stance above my face and squinted at the caller ID, immediately recognizing the number as Andrew's cell. I quickly unlocked my phone and answered. "Hey Andrew," I muttered in the most cheery tone I could manage this early in the morning. "What's up?"
"It's 8:30, that's what's up. Where are you? You were supposed to meet me for coffee like half an hour ago!"
"Oh man," I groaned in my most apologetic tone. "I totally forgot and overslept."
"Well. I guess it's fine." He huffed. "I'll just pick up a mocha for you and head over to your building. Be there in 10." He then hung up abruptly, causing me to groan again.

Andrew Rannells, being no beginner to professional theater, was one of my first friends once we started rehearsals. Having been in countless productions himself, he has generously been showing me the ropes of the actor's lifestyle. In return for his help I would accompany him on coffee dates a few times a week, one of which I just pathetically missed due to my horrible sleeping schedule.

I pulled myself out of bed and shivered once my feet hit the cold floor. It's ridiculous how cold it gets in New York during the winter. You would be surprised to know that the hustle and bustle heat of people anxiously pushing past each other reaches no further than the busy streets and underground subway stations. Even then, the cold wind still nips at your cheeks and tumbling snowflakes pelt you like frozen feathers. As soon as I was entirely up, I grabbed clean clothes from my closet and went to the bathroom to change. Along with that, I pulled my hair up into a loose bun and applied a thin coat of basic makeup, not wanting to look like a complete train wreck before heading to the theater. Just as I finished brushing on some mascara there was a knock at the door. I raced down the loft stairs and opened the door to reveal an unamused-looking Andrew. "It's freezing out there." He pouted, handing me my mocha and stomping inside. He slid off his suedes on the doormat and fell back onto my couch, his arms crossed tightly across his chest.
"Andrew," I scolded. "You aren't 5. You can handle it." He rolled his eyes, but uncrossed his arms, letting them fall loosely at his sides. "Anyway," I started. "What time do we have to be at the Walter Ashford?"

The Walter Ashford Theatre, established in 1931, was basically the pride and joy of my existence. After a show called The Pursuit of Conflict, a musical adaptation of Kurt Vonnegut's Harrison Bergeron, closed in August, the cast of New Beginnings and I were informed that this would be the new home of our musical. I enjoyed every waking moment of exploring those halls and performing on that ancient stage.

"We are supposed to be there at quarter after 9, I believe." Andrew muttered, checking the small watch on his left wrist. "Which means that if we are taking the subway, we should leave now. Get your bag and lets go. I'll meet you outside." I nodded quickly and made my way back up the stairs, watching as Andrew slid his shoes on and pulled open the door. I remembered leaving my bag hanging on my bedroom doorknob so I quickly grabbed it and raced back down to the living room. Once I reached the doormat I slid my keds eagerly onto my feet and slipping open the door. As I pulled my keys from my bag, I could still hear the scuffling of Andrew's feet against the shaggy hallway carpet. He was already at the elevators by the time I caught up.