Leaving (7 page)

“You’ve worked with her?” Bailey focused her attention on the blond dancer. This information was priceless.

“I was in
Hairspray
before
Wicked
.” She shot a quick grin at Tim, as if the best part of being in the cast of
Wicked
was her relationship with Tim Reed. Then she seemed to remember that she was in the middle of telling a story. “Francesca has no barriers, no reservations about what she’ll say. She’ll walk up in the middle of an audition or rehearsal and adjust your posture or tell you
exactly what she thinks of your singing. Don’t let it bother you. She demands excellence, and she gets it.”

Gratitude spread through Bailey. This was crucial. The fact that Francesca was hard on everyone — especially dancers she felt were talented — could help Bailey push through the audition later this morning if she felt she was failing. The hour was over almost as soon as it began, and Bailey felt like she’d found a friend in Adrienne. Never mind about Tim. If Bailey ended up in New York City, she could see herself hanging out with his girlfriend, if not him. Tim had already explained that Adrienne shared his faith, so they’d have that much in common.

Bailey was dressed in a V-neck white T-shirt and black dance pants, and in her bag she had her character shoes and a folder with her headshot and resume — all that was required according to Francesca’s message a few weeks ago. The audition was only eight blocks away, so they made the trip on foot. The warm-up would be good for her. They walked on the sunny side of the street and Bailey began to feel herself loosening up. She could hardly wait.

As she expected, there was a line of girls stretched out the door and halfway down the block in front of the studio hosting the audition. Bailey wasn’t bothered by the numbers. After all, Francesca Tilly had called her personally. Certainly she’d be looking for Bailey today. And now that she’d worked so hard, she was bound to catch the director’s eye sometime today.

Her mom caught a car back to the hotel. She was working on an article for a women’s magazine, so the hours alone would be good for her. “Call me with any updates.” The routine felt familiar, much like last time they were in New York City for an audition. But this was different. Bailey was on her own, without Tim, and she wasn’t nervous — not at all. The information from Adrienne played in her head as she signed in and found a spot on the expansive studio dance floor to stretch.

Again the room was filled with dancers — all of them about the same age and build. She would have to shine very brightly to win a part today. Father, You know this is my dream … I feel You’ve created me for this, to shine for You. So please help me do my best. Help me sing and dance and act in a way that brings You glory. Thank You, God …

Francesca was bringing order to the room. Bailey guessed there were two hundred girls there — and maybe another two hundred still down at the street level waiting for the next round. Francesca was a petite woman, angular with wiry gray hair. She dressed much like the dancers — black tights, a black leotard, and a spandex skirt with bright orange and blue swirls. Her hair was wound tightly at the top of her head, and her quick pace and hurried movements made it clear she was on a mission to get the auditions over with.

“Line up,” she snapped. “Everyone.” She waved her hand like she was casting a spell, and immediately three assistants jumped into motion, organizing the girls in even rows. Bailey tried for the front, but she wasn’t fast enough. She wound up in the third row instead — two from the end. Francesca planted herself front and center, her hands on her hips. When the girls were in place, she barked a single word at them.
“Hairspray!”

For a long half a minute no one dared speak. Most of the dancers — including Bailey—resisted the urge to look around the room for some shared bit of empathy. Maybe they’d all heard what Bailey had heard. That Francesca Tilly was a little eccentric.

Finally Francesca drew a full breath and stared them down, as close to one at a time as she could. “You know this show — at least I’d like to hope you know it.” She clapped her hands, fast and sharp. “It’s energy, energy, energy.” She stood on her tiptoes, shielded her eyes, and stared over the center of the formation. “That’s who I’ll cut first. Anyone without energy.” She began to
pace across the front of the room. “Show me your energy, girls, or you’re done.”

Bailey was ready for this. She’d been jumping rope and doing Zumba classes in her family’s gym every morning and practicing dance each evening. She was in the best shape of her life and bursting with energy. She shook out her fingers, keeping herself loose.

“My choreographer Suzanne will teach you the Corny Collins dance, and you will learn it faster than you’ve ever learned any dance before. That’s how I run things.”

Suzanne took the floor and began teaching. The dance was fast and demanding, Francesca was right. But Bailey grasped it. When they did their first run through she was ready. By then Francesca was walking along the outer edge of the square staring down the dancers, doing just what Adrienne had said.

She walked up to one girl and forcefully adjusted her shoulders. “Dancers pay attention to their posture.”

Bailey straightened more than before. Francesca was on the opposite side of the room, but still … she didn’t want to be next.

As Suzanne taught the dance, Francesca made her way up and down every row, studying the dancers, sizing them up. When she reached the girl next to Bailey, Francesca stopped. A puzzled look came over her face and she took a step back. For a long while she looked the girl up and down — clearly disapproving of something. Then she stepped up and raised the girl’s headband higher onto her head, off her forehead. “There. Your face looks thinner.”

Bailey stopped herself from looking shocked. Was the woman serious? She had no problem saying something like that to a girl she didn’t know? In front of all these people? She focused on Suzanne at the front of the room. The choreographer was snapping her fingers. “Run through it! Ready … five, six, seven, eight.”

Francesca stared at Bailey as the dance began.
She’s not standing there, Bailey told herself. Dance for the Lord … shine for Jesus.
She threw everything she had into the number, smiling big and making every movement sharp and crisp and full of the rhythm it deserved.

“You’re Bailey Flanigan … the actress from
Unlocked,
is that right?” Her words were pointed and loud. Too loud.

“Yes, ma’am.” Bailey glanced at her and continued dancing. What if one of the other girls heard the director? They’d assume Bailey had an edge, right? She put the thought from her mind. Francesca didn’t smile or acknowledge that the observation mattered whatsoever. And she didn’t straighten her spine or adjust her clothing or order her to stay with the beat.

That had to be a good sign. But still Bailey didn’t want to win the part because of her role in
Unlocked.
She wanted to be recognized for her skill, her hard work.

Half an hour into the audition, the teaching was finished. “This will be a quick audition. If you survive the dance segment, we’ll ask twenty of you to stay and sing. If I tap you, that means we don’t need you for now. If you aren’t selected, please leave. This isn’t your show … it isn’t your day. Before I make cuts, thank you for being here. Musical theater is an art, and it’s not for everyone.” She stopped pacing and smiled at the girls. It was the first time she’d done so since the audition began. Her smile dropped off. “Now let’s take this seriously and see some dancing.” She clapped her hands three sharp times. “Energy … energy … energy!”

Francesca nodded at Suzanne, and the choreographer hit the play button on the boom box perched on a chair behind her. Music for the Corny Collins song filled the room and Bailey felt her heart soar within her. Sure she was tired and sweaty, but she still had an ocean of energy. This was the show she loved most of all, and the dance was the original Broadway choreography. The number was too fun to waste it being nervous. Besides, God was with her. She could feel Him cheering her on.

Suzanne shouted above the music. “And five, six, seven, eight!”

With that Bailey lit into the dance with everything she had inside her. She wasn’t sure if Francesca could even see her from where she walked along the front line, but she danced hard anyway. Out of the corner of her eyes she watched the director briefly survey three girls at a time, and then brutally tap all three. As she did, she shook her head, her expression colored with disgust. The next three girls met the same fate, and Bailey had a feeling Francesca’s first walk-through was more important than she let on. At least with the first row of dancers, the director already seemed to have her mind made up. As the girls were tapped, they quietly excused themselves from the dance floor, gathered their things, and made a hasty exit.

The second row included two girls who were allowed to stay, and both kept dancing — not willing to accept the pass over as proof they were in. Francesca stepped up to the third row and gave the girls a critical onceover. The song had started again, and Bailey no longer had to concentrate to get the steps right. Instead she put everything into her performance, dancing as if her life depended on it.

Francesca stopped in front of her, and then Bailey saw something that made her practically shout for joy. In the slightest, most subtle possible way, Francesca smiled at her. She gave a firm nod with her head and moved on to the next girl. And like that Bailey had survived the first round, the dance portion of the audition. Like the other girls who were being allowed to stay, Bailey kept dancing until Suzanne had restarted the music five times, giving Francesca time to work her way through the entire group.

“That’s all,” the director shouted from the back of the room. “That’s our first cut. Get something to drink, girls. We’ll start again in ten minutes with vocal auditions.”

The music stopped, and Bailey hugged the girl in front of
her — one of those from the second row who’d been allowed to stay. Adrienne’s information had definitely helped this morning. Bailey wanted to be the best performer not only at this audition, but on all of Broadway. That meant she needed to work with the best director in the business, and if that meant dealing with Francesca’s eccentricities, so be it. Bailey was up for the challenge.

She hurried to the side of the room, found her things, and downed a water bottle. Then she pulled her phone from a side pocket in her purse and texted her mom:
Where are you? I made it past the first round!!

Bailey dabbed her face with a towel from her bag as her mom texted back.
That’s great! Can you talk?

Francesca was meeting with Suzanne at the far side of the room. All around Bailey girls were on their phones, talking quietly. The director hadn’t said anything about not using their phones, so rather than text back, she hit the call button and waited until she heard her mom’s voice. “Bailey?”

“I’m still in it!” She kept her voice low like the other girls, but there was no way to contain her enthusiasm. “There were so many great dancers, Mom. I think I’m in shock.”

“Honey, that’s wonderful. So what’s next? Will you sing for them?”

“Exactly.” Francesca looked their way and checked her watch. Bailey lowered her voice. “I have to run. I’ll call when I’m done.”

The voice auditions were handled differently. The girls were told that everyone would sing and then the directors would make a decision after they were done. Francesca sat on a panel with two other directors who had arrived during the break. Only once did Francesca blow up at one of the girls auditioning. The girl who riled the director sang the song, “On My Own” from
Les Miserables.
Whoever she was, she didn’t have much confidence. She was maybe twenty-three, twenty-four — thin with long, wispy pale blond hair and a pretty, frail voice. The other girls who hadn’t
sung yet waited off to the side. Collectively they cringed as Francesca stood and marched to the girl. She took her by the arm and led her another twenty yards farther away from the audition area. “There.” Francesca cupped her hands around her own mouth. “Do this.”

The girl did as she was told.

Bailey bit her lip, her eyes wide. Truly if Adrienne hadn’t told her about Francesca, this would seem like some sort of joke. All around her she could feel the other girls barely breathing.

Francesca left the girl standing there, her hands up around the sides of her mouth, then she stormed back to the director’s table. “Now.” She picked up her pen and hovered it over a pad of paper. “Sing with projection.”

The girl tried, but Francesca waved her off after three bars. “Enough.” She gestured to the door. “Be gone.” She craned her neck and peered at the line of girls yet to sing. “Next. Hurry up, people. Next audition.”

Bailey planned to sing a song from
Last Five Years
called, “I’m a Part of That.” When it was her turn, she begged God for favor and then took her place. As she did, a sort of other-worldly peace came over her. She wasn’t auditioning for Francesca Tilly or putting herself in front of a group of strangers to be judged. She was God’s girl, and she was doing what she was born to do.

The song was part ballad, part high-energy — the perfect choice for
Hairspray,
Bailey had decided. The music began and she was in character immediately. Her song lasted just over a minute, and not until it was over did Bailey realize she’d been allowed to finish. Many of the girls had been cut off halfway through their songs.

One of the directors — a guy with sympathetic eyes — had told them that it didn’t necessarily mean they were out of the running just because they were cut off. But it didn’t take a mind reader
to figure out what was going through Francesca’s head when she waved her hand and stopped some of the girls mid-song.

Bailey grabbed her bag and moved into the hallway in time to see two girls leave in tears, comforting each other as they headed out the door. Bailey hurt for the girls, for whatever their stories were, whatever might have been riding on this audition today.