A Room With A View

Chapter Sixteen - Madeline

September 9, Saturday

Madeline hung up the phone, still slightly baffled that she had become friends with 12F's sister overnight. Alina had popped by to pitch her brother, and the two girls had ended up chatting the night away at the bar next door.

Alina had only mentioned 12F—Brian (it was still so odd to know his name)—at the start. The rest of the night had been spent swapping sordid tales of the city over twin glasses of Chardonnay. Apparently Brian was a writer. Alina, on the other hand, had just gotten a new job as a social worker. "Though Brian'll be the first to tell you that I'm the one who needs work," Alina had said, rolling her eyes.

     Madeline turned right on Broadway and headed toward Union Square. She felt foolish clutching the yellow Strand bag to her chest. After this morning's shift at Cafe Clark, Madeline had found herself in the bookstore, searching the aisles for Cooper, Brian. Like a bandit she had slipped Sunset at the Cove from the shelf and tucked it into her pocket, only pulling it out to quickly pay for it at the register. She didn't know why she was so embarrassed. It was just a book.

     As Madeline neared the square, she could see the farmer's market was in full swing. Madeline contemplated picking up a handful of apples, but she had already spent $9.80 on the book and she had sworn that she wouldn't miss Phineas's rent payment this time. Besides, Alina had offered to take her out to dinner the following night at Olive Garden, so she could stave off hunger until then and fill up a doggy bag with breadsticks. Not quite as nutritious as apples, but they'd be filling. And free.

It had been fairly cool when Madeline had first gotten to work, but the temperature had warmed with the sun. She shrugged out of her purple jacket and slung it over her arm, letting her underarms breath. She surreptitiously checked beneath her arms, but there were no dark spots. Though the periwinkle shirt didn't do much for her skin tone, it was the uniform of Cafe Clark, and, as luck would have it, the suggested attire for Stacee Adler—the titular role in A Night at the Adler's. It was rumored to be Broadway's next big play, and open auditions were that afternoon. It would only take her about thirty minutes to walk uptown to the studio space on 46th.

     Madeline took a deep breath at the light and popped in a piece of gum. A Night at the Adler's was described as raw and edgy, a sort of Bildungsroman with a loss of innocence. It wasn't the type of play Madeline gravitated toward, but something like this could really put her on the map.

     She worked the gum between her teeth and crossed the street. She decided to keep with the same monologue that she had used at her previous audition. It was starting to feel unlucky, but Madeline thought it might fit the genre of the show. Both Len and Alina had wished her luck this morning, and Madeline had almost blushed at their support.

     "If they don't cast you, then screw them," Len had said. Madeline had laughed it off, until Len had clutched her arm. "No, seriously. Screw them. You might as well get one good night out of it."

     Madeline shook these thoughts out of her head, passing through the shadow of the Flatiron building. She let herself hesitate outside the Lego store, before pushing herself forward, the plastic book bag bumping against her leg.

     She hadn't meant to buy it. She hadn't even meant to look at it. She had just been curious what sort of a writer 12F was, and so had traveled to the Strand for research. Sunset at the Cove was simply the first book she had picked up, and she hadn't been able to put it back on the shelf.

Madeline slipped it out of the bag and flipped it over, scanning the back. It sounded cloyingly romantic, and Madeline knew that no matter how contrived the story, she would be crying at the end.

     "Sigh," Madeline said out loud. She wrapped the book back in its plastic and tucked them both into her bag.

     She was making good time. She could already see the red letters of Macy's.

     "Red leather, yellow leather," Madeline whispered under her breath. She practiced her weeping face, not caring that passersby ogled her as she walked past. The heat was starting to get to her, and Madeline could feel a faint trickle of sweat work its way down her back. She would need to pop into the restroom before her audition and awkwardly stand beneath the hand dryer, letting the heat dry her shirt.

     "Unique New York, Unique New York." Madeline scratched at a strand of hair that had plastered itself to her forehead.

     "If Peter Piper picks a peck of pickled peppers," Madeline began, then stopped. What was a peck? She had always meant to look up how many pickled peppers actually fit into a peck, but hadn't yet done so.

     A cloud of papers blew into the air and Madeline came to a startled stop. There was a man bent over on the ground, plucking at papers and shoving them back into a manila folder. Someone must have bumped into him. Madeline took a step toward him to help, but a chime sounded on her phone. She bit her lip and pulled it out. Just as she thought, a reminder that she had ten minutes to go ten blocks. The man had corralled nearly every page, but Madeline still felt badly blowing past him. She had to nail this audition, and showing up late would not bode well.

     "But sir," Madeline muttered under her breath, practicing the first lines of her monologue, "I don't understand."

     She recited the entire thing to herself and finished just as she entered the elevator at the studio space. Madeline checked her watch, and breathed a sigh of relief. She had one minute to go. Not ideal, but at least she wouldn't be late.

The doors opened on floor 6. Madeline walked out, and straight into Nicole Devlin.