My dad’s side is loud and crazy while my mom’s is a little more traditional.”
“What was it like growing up in an interracial family? Or do you call it multi-cultural?”
Chuckling at her question, I think back to my childhood before I respond. “Would you believe me if I never thought about it? Actually, would you believe I didn’t realize we were an interracial or multi-cultural family until I was in my twenties?”
Jumping up, she almost whacks my chin with her head as she spins to face me, eyes wide. “What?”
Shrugging I say, “It’s embarrassing to admit but it’s true. We didn’t grow up focusing on race or culture. My mom’s side of the family is Hispanic and my dad’s… I don’t know, he checks the white box when necessary. There’s some Native American and a lot of European descent too. My mom’s mom passed when I was young and after that the traditions died out. In the end, we were just the Stones. We have a big family and it’s loud and crazy but full of love. It wasn’t until someone mentioned it to me in my twenties that I realized there was a time my parents weren’t supposed to be together. That they were looked at differently. For us kids, we were just us.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Celeste comments as she settles back into my side. “Your family sounds great.”
I don’t tell her I can’t wait for her to meet them. That may be moving a little fast for whatever it is we’re doing.
Chapter Eighteen
Celeste
I look down at my phone and fight back my grin as I answer. “Yes, Manuel. What can I help you with?”
I left rehearsal less than thirty minutes ago after a long day of scheduling meetings, contacting acting schools to give them audition information, going over set design ideas—there is a lot to do at this stage of production and still no guarantees the producer will green light it to the stage. A fact that Manuel seems to be taking to heart with how much he focuses on getting things rolling. Based on the number of texts I get every night, I’m not sure he sleeps anymore.
“I want to see if you’ve started advertising for auditions yet.”
It’s a valid question. We discussed just about everything else but got distracted when one of the producers showed up unannounced, so auditions is the one thing we never talked about.
“Yep,” I say as I dodge the foot traffic around me as I walk. “It’s listed on the normal sites—Backstage, Playbill, a couple other places I have written down. I reached out to the head of a few acting schools in case they have any up and coming talent we don’t want to miss. Social media is updated. I think there’s more but I’m fresh off the subway and hoofing it home.”
“Great. Sounds like you’ve got everything covered. I don’t want us to take this casting lightly.”
“Agreed.”
The play we’re working on, “The Dreamer” is set in a small mining town in the 1940s. Our main character is having an existential crisis as he aspires to make a difference in his community by moving into politics. His family doesn’t agree. It’s a beautiful coming of age story based on the real life issues from that era. It also means period costumes, fascinating sets, and a world most of us weren’t alive for and will never experience except through the theater. It’s wonderful.
“I’ll check my email when I get home in case I have a response from any of the schools yet,” I add. “But since it’s after hours I doubt there will be anything.”
“Text me one way or the other.”
“Will do.” Approaching my building, I grab my key to unlock the front door. “I’m almost home so you’ll hear from me in a couple hours at the most.”
“Cool. Thanks, Celeste. I knew you and I would have the same vision for this one.”
We hang up and I shove my phone in my back pocket, not somewhere I’d normally keep it while walking down the street, but this is my hallway. My neighbors would be stupid to try and pickpocket me since I know where they live.
As soon as my door opens, I’m overcome by the most amazing aroma that makes my stomach growl immediately. Dropping my keys into a bowl by the door, I only have to take a couple steps before I find the source of the great scents.
“Are you making dinner?”
Hunter looks over his shoulder and smiles at me.