The Critic (12 page)

“No, no, I’m not. I was asking for Gina, not for myself.” She sounded panicked.

I exhaled in relief. “His life is difficult right now. He had a girlfriend and apparently loved her, but he didn’t handle a situation correctly. Now it’s complicated.” My heart was broken for my brother, and I was positive I didn’t do a great job of hiding that.

“Complicated? Okay, then I’ll let G know he’s off the market.” She stood, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from her perfect body. “Would you like another beer?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Maybe a cold beverage would extinguish the fire raging inside me. She grabbed more drinks as I made myself comfortable on her sofa. “So you’re asking about Brett for Gina, not you?” My heart raced, and I felt sweat forming on the back of my neck. Maybe she wasn’t attracted to me.

I answered him from inside the refrigerator. “No, not for me. G asked me to ask you about him.”

I looked at the gorgeous man in my family room. I’d almost forgotten why I hadn’t always liked him until he picked up the paper and looked at his review. Did he feel badly about the way he’d slammed me? I watched his features change from relaxed to tense while I went from happy to sad. Why had I left that paper there? Oh yeah, as a reminder of how much his words had cut me. With glassy eyes, I made my way to the sofa.

“Here ya go.” I handed him his beer and sat next to him. “Are you refreshing your memory?”

“No, it’s just . . . I don’t know.” His head fell a little as he looked at me from the corner of his eye.

I unintentionally sniffed and took a sip of my wine before setting my glass on the table. “Ya know, I have a question.” I stood. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.” I went to my room and grabbed older copies of the
Edge.
I sat back down beside him and opened one of the older papers. I saw him flinch when he realized what I was holding. “Let’s see . . . oh, here it is. ‘Andrea Jordan’s performance lacked finesse, and although her appearance was worthy of the stage, her performance wasn’t.’” I set the paper down and picked up the next one. I glanced at him. His eyes were on me, and his lips were in a tight line. “Okay, here we go—”

“Why are you . . . ? Please don’t . . .” He sounded desperate and a bit scared.

My hand went up, indicating that he needed to let me finish. He recoiled a bit, and I continued to read his words to him. “‘Ms. Jordan’s opening night performance was lackluster. I had high hopes when I walked into the theater. The buzz around the city was palpable. Then the curtain rose. Let’s say I’d be surprised if it rose again tomorrow. Ms. Jordan was—’”

Bentley snatched the paper from my hand. “I know what I wrote. You said you have a question. Do you have one, or are you just going to read to me?”

“Yeah, I do actually. I’d like to know why?” My hand wiped the lone tear that had seeped from my eye. “Why do you come to my shows if you don’t like the way I perform? I don’t understand.” Another tear escaped. “Help me understand. I mean, I get that you don’t like the way I act—that’s here in black and white—but why do you waste your time? Why are you here now?”

His fingers raked through his hair. “Do you keep all your reviews? I’ve seen you get good ones too. Where are they?”

“I have them as well. Not everyone thinks I suck, ya know.” I had them in a box under my bed, but for some reason, I didn’t think about them as much.

“What do those reviews say? Do they say you’re going to get nominated for an award or that you’re the next big star?”

Was he trying to make me feel worse? I shook my head. “No, they just said that I performed well and I was a good actress.”

He nodded. “And that’s what you want to hear? Are you okay with being called a good actress when you could be a great one?” He took my hand and looked me in the eye. “I don’t want you to be upset, but shit, Andrea, when are you going to go for it? I watch you on stage and see you light up, but then it just turns into words and deliberate movements and planned actions. You’re so much better than what you’re giving the audience.” Bentley placed his hand on the side of my face. “I think you can be amazing. Do you hear me? I said amazing, not good or mediocre. That’s why I go to your shows. I’m waiting for greatness, because I know you have it in you. I just don’t know what you’re waiting for.”

“Bentley,” I whispered, but my want for him was loud and clear.

“What do you need? Tell me.”

His stare made me melt, and I was sure there was a puddle pooling at my feet. “You.” I lowered my head before raising it again. “I need you. I don’t want to, but I do.” My chest ached at my words. Admitting that I needed someone other than myself was new to me. But I did, and I couldn’t lie—not to him and not to me.

“I told you I’m here for you. I’ll help you, but you need to help yourself too. It’s about time, isn’t it? I’ll ask again, what are you waiting for? You want this, right? To be on Broadway under the bright lights with your name on the marquee? You say you need me, but what for? A good review? Because a critic doesn’t slingshot you into stardom. You need to control the pull and release. The slingshot can only go as far back as you decide to draw it.”

Stunned, I looked down at his fingers, which were now interwoven with mine. Once I was able to breathe again, I just nodded. He pulled me to him and hugged me.

“Bentley, I don’t know what to do. I’m so confused.” I got up and paced then looked back at him.

He stood in front of me. I rested my forehead on his hard chest as his strong arms came around me. He placed a soft kiss on the top of my head.

“Confused?” His voice was steeped in genuine concern. “Look at me.”

I bit my lip and looked at his deep blue eyes and realized I could fall for him . . . hard.

“I’ve always strived to be the best at anything I did. I’ve worked hard to perfect my craft so I wouldn’t fail. The thought of failing? It’s scary.” I shrugged. “I thought I was finally getting there, and my fear had subsided. I was starting to be proud of my work and then . . .” My arms crossed in front of me as I tried to hold back tears.

“And then here comes an asshole who made you doubt yourself, and he did it in black and white.” His voice was low.

“Yeah, and for everyone to see. I could lose my job now. I don’t have anything if I don’t have my work. I’m nothing if I can’t act. You don’t know everything I’ve sacrificed to be here. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever cared about. If it weren’t for Gina, I’d be alone.” My voice weakened. “If it weren’t for Gina, I’d never say or hear the words ‘I love you.’”

His eyes pierced mine. I couldn’t tell if he understood what I was trying to say or if he just felt sorry for me. That was one thing I didn’t want from him: pity.

He linked his hands behind his neck and looked toward the ceiling as if searching for the perfect words. Given his profession, he should have had them already. “I don’t want you to be alone or feel as if you have only one person who cares. You have me. I’m on your side. Yes, I realize my reviews brought us together and you were ready to rip my head off because of them, but as odd as it may sound, I was happy when you showed up ready to fight me. You have so much fire in you. You’re a strong, gorgeous woman, and I want to get to know you if you’ll let me. Will you let me?” The back of his hand trailed from my cheekbone to the small of my neck.

He looked at my lips before he bent to kiss me. It was a soft, swift kiss, nothing that indicated he had feelings for me other than friendship.

“Sit with me?” His eyes pleaded for compliance.

“Yes.” He wanted to get to know me? I kept asking myself how that had happened.

“Why are you alone? Don’t you have family?” He put his hand on my knee and stroked it with his thumb.

I hadn’t planned on telling him about my past, but none of this was planned. My sigh was long and had a twinge of sadness at the end. “My family . . .” I quirked my lips and felt them curl downward. “My parents are very prominent in their community. They live the country club life. You know, very affluent and expect nothing but the best? Well, I didn’t follow in their footsteps. They’re Ivy Leaguers, and I went to community college. I wanted to go to Julliard, not Brown, but since that wasn’t in the cards, I did what I needed to.”

“Did you audition for Julliard?”

Bentley’s voice had a soft tone that made me feel worse. I still wondered what my career could have been like if I’d studied at a prestigious school for the arts and taken classes with those who shared my passion. When Bentley, or anyone really, asked me if I had auditioned, my heart broke a little.

“No, I didn’t. My parents wouldn’t help me pay for it or co-sign a loan, and I knew I wouldn’t get a scholarship.” I shrugged. “My parents offered me full tuition to the Ivy school of my choice, but I didn’t want that. We had words, and I left.” A hot tear ran down my cheek, and I swept it away. “So after a one-year stint at community college, I decided to try New York City on for size, but as you know, thousands of people have the same idea. The rent was too high, and I didn’t know anyone to room with. I decided to move to Jersey and commute for auditions. Then, if I landed a long-standing gig, I’d move.” I let out a sarcastic chuckle. “That was six years ago. But I’ve kept busting my ass, and that’s what I intend to keep doing.” My voice became stronger. “I love the rush of the stage. I was born to act—that much I know.”

“I’m sorry my critique hurt you, but I was born to write,” he said. “I didn’t mean for my words to make you doubt yourself. I wanted you to become stronger.” He pulled me to him and held me. “You can still make it. I have so much faith in you. I see your potential.”

“Really? Why? I mean, what makes you all of a sudden think I have potential?” I caught the sarcasm in my words, but I couldn’t hold it back.

“It’s not all of a sudden. Don’t you understand that?” He leaned back on the sofa but kept my hand in his. “You’re talented and one of the most stunning women I’ve ever seen.”

“Do you really think I’m talented?”

“And stunning. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”

“Yes.” I knew how that sounded. My looks had never been my concern, but I didn’t want to be known for my looks. “But I’m old now. I mean, in actress years.”

Bentley roared with laughter, breaking the tension. “Is that like dog years? Don’t get me wrong, I completely understand what you mean, but that’s not true.”

I forced a grin and let out a quiet sigh.

“So should we run more lines?” he asked.

“That would be nice. I mean, if you want to.”

“Of course I do.” He smiled.

“Great, but I want to work on a different scene tonight.” There was a pivotal scene between Jake and Katie which was devoid of any physical contact. I found this part of the show played a pivotal role in their reconciliation.

“It’s up to you. Whatever you feel like you want to rehearse. I’m here for you.”
I handed him a copy of the script. “Act two, scene seven.”

Bentley nodded and worked with me until I was tired of hearing my own voice. I could have listened to him all night, but if I didn’t have this section mastered by now, I never would.

I flopped onto my couch and propped my feet on the table. Bentley sat in the chair next to the couch and laid the script on the coffee table.

“You can go if you’d like.”
Please don’t leave.
“Or we can watch a movie.”

It dawned on me that I only had a few more days left with him. That thought shouldn’t have made me sad, but it did. Bentley had definitely begun to occupy a large part of my heart, and I enjoyed having him with me. Oddly, I relied on his honesty. I’d never thought I’d miss him, but now I knew I would, and that thought depressed me more than I’d ever thought it could.

“I’d like to stay. A movie sounds like a great plan!” Bentley perked up and rubbed his hands together. “Where’s my backpack?”

And just like that, the tension and the sadness I’d felt dissipated. My lips curled upward. “It’s by the door. Do you carry that around everywhere?”

He laughed and grabbed it. “Yup.” As he sat back down, he smiled as if he were opening a present. He unzipped it and pulled out a few DVDs, a box of Cracker Jacks, a pack of M&Ms, and a penny. He shrugged with a snarky grin. “Ya know, for good luck.”