Shy and successful Broadway singer, Carmen, is finally at the point in her career where she is auditioning for her dream role. After meeting Owen at the local coffee shop, it seems like everything is perfectly lining up for Carmen's future. When fac...
It was the afternoon before the party, and Amy was still trying to convince Carmen to get ready together. "I hired a makeup artist and a hairdresser and they are awesome," Amy was hoping to wear her friend down through the sheer number of her arguments. It was clear she had some ulterior motive.
"And this person can handle my hair? She's aware it doesn't look like yours?" Carmen asked. A small part of her wanted to go, but another part of her was worried about what Amy might be planning.
"I didn't hire her to do my hair," Amy smiled, "I hired her to do yours."
"Why?"
Amy shrugged, "Because I hate Miranda more than I like money?"
"And you have enough money that you don't have to make that choice?"
"That, too," she filed her fingernail to her desired shape, waiting for Carmen's answer. "So, are you going to come?"
"Only if you promise you haven't set me up with anyone," Carmen replied.
"Why would I set you up with someone who isn't your boyfriend? That's weird, even for me."
"He's-" Carmen began, but Amy interrupted her.
"Not your boyfriend," Amy waved her hand dismissively. "I know. You keep saying that. But, like, he is. At least enough that it would be weird to set you up with Tony's cousin or whoever."
"Fine," Carmen agreed, "I'll come get ready at your place, but I have to pick up my dress first."
"I'll send someone. Just tell me where."
Carmen was skeptical. But if there was anyone in the world who wanted Carmen to get this job more than Carmen did, it was Amy. And though she kept telling Carmen it was a bad choice to stay in her current position, she also didn't want to work with Miranda. Amy must have been very conflicted..
While the girls were on their way to her apartment, Amy sent for their dresses and called her stylist to set up an appointment.
"Please tell me you have something to drink," Carmen looked through Amy's cabinets as soon as they entered the apartment. "I need something to distract me from how nervous I am."
"Carm, we should eat first," Amy put her hand gently on Carmen's shoulder. "Remember last time we went to one of these? There was a bunch of very small and disgusting food and we almost fainted by the end of the night." She waited for Carmen to acknowledge her.
"Yeah, I remember, and it was not a good look."
"Especially if you're supposed to be schmoozing and getting Miranda kicked out of her prime role!" Amy danced around the kitchen in premature celebration.
"So what do you want to eat?" Amy asked, noticing Carmen's face littered with nerves. "And then maybe one drink while we wait."
"I don't know. Do you have anything in the fridge?" Carmen wasn't sure how much she could eat with her stomach all twisted up in knots.
Amy scrunched up her face and looked to the fridge and then back at Carmen.
"Tony made pasta last night, didn't he?" Carmen asked. She knew of only two reasons why Amy would react that way to leftovers, so she had guessed.
Amy nodded, confirming Carmen's suspicions.
"If you don't want to share, do you think Tony could be persuaded to make me something like a salad?"
Amy looked at Carmen's face and laughed, "Yeah, I think he could be persuaded."
"Maybe he'll even make you more pasta if you say it's for me!" Carmen grinned as she got herself a glass of water.
"You're diabolical," Amy said, picking up the phone to call Tony. "And I love it."
* * *
When the girls walked into the party, it was clear that Carmen's dress choice was having the desired effect. Her silver and gold dress shone in the lights of the main lobby and somehow when she stepped into the lower lighting of the reception room, the dress twinkled even more.
"No one's going to forget you're here," Amy whispered before leaving her friend alone.
That was the plan.
Carmen didn't waste any time searching for John or Phil. Instead, she jumped right into the task at hand: entertaining their guests and securing the donations they apparently needed to run the theater.
"Hello, Mr. Duver, how are you this evening?" Carmen spoke to the first potential donor she could find.
She listened intently as person after person told her about how beautiful she was or how wonderful their last production had been or how lovely a job she had done performing the lead. She kept a smile on her face the whole time, working to ensure each guest felt they had a personal connection with her.
That's going to be the hardest part of this job, so I guess it's good I get a test run. Good thing I am an actor.
When the party finally moved into the dining room, Carmen found herself sitting at a table with the CEO of the company, the owners of the building, and two people she had never met before. Amy, of course, was seated all the way across the room, unable to offer emotional support. I bet John made these seating arrangements.
Carmen pulled her shoulders back and walked over to her table. All the gentlemen stood up as she approached, and the man she didn't know even offered to help with her chair. Is this how the rich and powerful behave in front of the cameras?
"Thank you," she smiled and sat down, "It's lovely to see you all again."
She turned to the couple she hadn't met before, "But I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Carmen Morales. It's nice to meet you."
Carmen extended her hand first to the man and then to the woman. They introduced themselves as Siobhan and Randal Galloway. Their faces didn't seem familiar, but their names were inescapably recognizable. The Galloways were well known as very generous patrons of the arts in New York. Though, the papers had not reported a Galloway donation to a theater in over ten years.
John probably stuck me here so I would fail. Well, I guess I'll have to prove him wrong.
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