Wang or Oscar De La Renta, regardless of the label.
Tears burn in my eyes, and Emma fans my face with her hands. “No, don’t do that, bitch. You just got your makeup finished.” She makes a silly face, and I laugh, just as she intended. “There, that’s better. Come on, we need to go.”
The cab pulls up to the Four Seasons in Tribeca and Emma pulls out an envelope, showing me the invitation as we wait our turn to enter. The thick ivory paper has tonight’s invitation to the festivities honoring the ‘Bastions of Broadway’.
“What’s that mean?” I ask Emma, barely holding back a joke about the Bastards of Broadway. Tonight is important to her, and I’m slipping back into my previous persona, a lady who doesn’t make inappropriate jokes at inconvenient times. Like when I can see the photographers preparing to snap pictures of my best friend.
She gushes in excitement. “They’re celebrating all the past shows on Broadway. Theater people love kissing their own asses. But some of the people currently on Broadway, or just off-Broadway, got invites too. Tonight is like a who’s-who of Broadway actors, actresses, directors, and investors, past, present, and future. All the big players will be here. Plus the upper crust, of course, because you know they’re always the ones who pay the bills.”
I smile, knowing as well as she does that that’s true. The arts have almost always been dependent on one-percenter patrons, and I thank my lucky stars again that though my parents are part of that upper crust, they find the theater foolish.
The party is in full swing when we arrive, and I indulge in the old fantasy of playing royalty. They’ve rolled out a red carpet, though it’s not an overdone Hollywood-style one, thankfully. This feels classy and fancy but different from most galas I’ve attended.
For one, they’ve created an entire walkway of posters from plays over the years. There must be over one hundred of them on easel stands, ushers inviting people to walk through and see them almost like it’s a museum. I guess in a way, it is. While I’m busy trying not to look like I’m checking out the ballroom decorations too blatantly, Emma squeals.
“Oh, my gosh! Some of the posters are signed! That’s why there are security guards not letting anyone touch them. But look, you can take pictures. You wanna walk it with me?”
I know that this so right up Emma’s alley, she’s going to spend at least the next two hours geeking her ass off about it all. “I think I’m going to mingle my way to the ladies’ room, and then I’ll join you, okay?”
Emma looks around, knowing what’s on my mind. “You okay?”
I check too, but I’m feeling more relaxed with every minute. “You’re right, this isn’t my parents’ scene. I’m fine. I’ll meet you in a bit. Go get your fandom kicks off. But remember to be professional, girl. No squealing ‘Oh, my God!’ in your out loud voice when you see Lin-Manuel Miranda.”
She freezes, her eyes going wide as she grabs my arm in a death-grip. “What, is he here? Do you see him for real? Where, where?”
I grin and point, and she exhales loudly when she sees the bearded superstar across the room. “Okay, I can do this. It’s fine. I’m fine. Just a nobody actress in her first almost-Broadway play, hobnobbing with the greats. It’s fine. No big deal.”
As far as pep talks go, hers sucks. I can think of a half-dozen movie speeches a lot better.
“You good?” I ask, the tables turned.
She nods and with a grin, she heads for the poster walkway. I watch her walk away, smiling to myself. Fuck, I’ve missed her so much. It’s so good to see her getting what she wants with her career.
Finally.
She deserves to be happy.
I wonder about Nathan though. She’s studiously avoided saying anything about him other than that he’s probably going to meet us here later tonight. But she hadn’t sounded sure, even though she brushed it off as a work thing.
I wander through the crowd, taking my time as I work toward the bar and get a glass of red wine. I sip and mingle some more, polite conversation here, a smile and nod there. I could do this type of thing in my sleep.
In fact, I have more than once over the years at my parents’ events.
But with it being a theater gala, there are artistic types sprinkled throughout the room, so I stop