Page 129 of Score
“And with good reason. You’ve really come through, girl. The choreography alone. You should get a medal, if only for not strangling Lucia.”
Neevah’s smile comes easily, and her laugh rings out like a bell. “Shewould say the same about me. We both had plenty of opportunity to strangle each other, but yeah. I’m glad the dance numbers are behind us. Now if I can survive Monk. I have some singing to do when we’re in Santa Barbara. You’re going with us, right?”
I discipline my expression at her mention of Monk, and keep pace when she resumes walking. “I’m going, yeah. They don’t call Santa Barbara the American Riviera for nothing. Whoever suggested that deserves a raise.”
“I agree,” Neevah says with a grin. She stops and faces me. “I’ve been meaning to tell you what a terrific job you did adding in Tilda and all the stuff we found at Dessi’s house in Alabama. There are so many things you slip into this script that make me realize how much of our history I was never taught.”
“I hope a lot of folks learn things, and about people they never heard of, but should have. Dessi, Gladys, Hazel, Slim Gaillard.”
“Neevah, thank God!” Livvie says, rushing up to join us.
“Hey, girl.” Neevah smiles at the other actress. “Why you running?”
“Thought I was late.” Livvie blows out a harried breath. “But I know if you aren’t at the production meeting yet, then I’m good. I got distracted. Monk was playing the piano in the Savoy. I’m convinced he could get me across the finish line just by playing a song.”
They giggle and I force my lips into something like a smile, but that same rusty screw in my chest when Livvie danced with Monk on New Year’s Eve tightens and turns. I can’t blame her. He’s amazing, but I want to tell her she should get over it because he’s with me, even though I have no right.
“He just looks like he’d talk you through it.” Livvie flashes a salacious grin. “Ya know what I mean?”
Girl, do I.
“I heard you went to college with Monk, Verity,” Livvie says, a new eagerness in her voice as we make our way toward Café Society. “Any inside information would be appreciated.”
“Oh.” My brain skips like a scratched record. “Um, no. We were onlytogether… at Finley together… at the same time, I mean… not together… for a few months. I’m not sure I’d be much help.”
“You may not be into guys,” Livvie says dryly, “but youcanappreciate Monk’s a fine specimen, right?”
“What makes you think I’m not into guys?” I ask, my awkwardness shifting to genuine curiosity.
“Oh!” Livvie’s eyes go wide. “I’m sorry. I thought I heard you say you’re a lesbian.”
“Bisexual actually,” I correct. “It’s not like when I’m dating a woman, I forget that I’m also attracted to men, or vice versa. Parts of me don’t disappear just because from the outside, you see me with one, not the other.”
“I get that. I mean, I get it foryou. I can’t imagine being turned on by pussy much as I love dick.”
Neevah catches my eye and, with the look she sends me, seems to be apologizing for her friend. There’s no need. I’m used to conversations like this.
“We better get to the meeting,” Neevah says, linking her arm through Livvie’s. “See you later, Verity.”
I wave them both off and pull my phone out.
Me:Heard you’re on set today?
Monk:Yeah. Not for long. Just fooling around with the guys down at the ballroom. Meet me at Dessi and Tilda’s place?
Me:I have a video call with the studio to pitch a few ideas, so I need to get home. Can’t stay long.
Monk:10 min tops. On my way up.
I navigate the streets of Dessi’s Harlem, slipping between fabricated buildings and walking past stoops so real I expect someone to call out to me from a doorway any minute. This section of the lot is kind of empty while the production meeting is happening in Café Society on the opposite side of the set. I climb the steps and walk into Tilda and Dessi’s apartment. Monk’s already sitting on the bed, dark brows bent into a frown as he stares down at a small leather notebook.
“Whatcha doin’?” I ask, closing the door behind me.
He glances up, and his eyes have that slightly distracted look like he’s not really seeing me for the first few seconds. “Oh, making a few notes in my music diary.”
“Dear Diary, I wrote a song today,” I tease. “I think it’s my best one yet.”
“Cute.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ve been looking at some of the dailies to get a sense of what I’ll want to do musically. I’ll write down something like…ominousorpropulsive. Or for Tilda and Dessi’s first time, I wroteSex, saxophone, flute, violin. Hope.Not sure what that’ll be, but it’s what came to me when I watched it. It’s like a shorthand of what I feel when I first see the story. If it’s done right, the music tells the story as much as the script does.”
