"I'll call later today. After rehearsal."
Bancroft sighs. "Call now so you're not thinking about it all day."
Getting it over with is a double-edged sword. "If he says he doesn't have time it's going to ruin my day, and I need to be on point. Dress rehearsal is later this week and I don't want anything compromising my performance today."
Bancroft sighs and strokes my cheek with a fingertip. "So tonight you'll call?"
I swallow past the lump in my throat and nod.
"Is there anything I can do to make today easier for you?"
I finger the buttons on his dress shirt. I'm wearing yellow rubber gloves, they're still sudsy, so I'm making a mess of his outfit. "You could love me –fuck me," I say softly.
"You want me to love you first?" He peels the soapy gloves off my hands.
"Please."
He takes my face in his palms and kisses me. It doesn't seem to matter that we've been dating now officially for a month-every kiss still makes my toes curl.
"I always love you, don't I?" he whispers against my lips.
"You do. And I love it when you do it slow and soft or hard and dirty."
Bancroft shoves my shorts down my legs and lifts me onto the counter. He drops to his knees and loves me with his mouth first, then with his fingers and his cock, still fully dressed.
It's an excellent distraction from the nerves. I also never get tired of being loved by him.
* * *
Later that evening I'm sitting in my lounger-my old, ugly one that still takes up space in Bancroft's condo-reviewing the script for the four-hundred-millionth time while he watches a DVR'd rugby match. I'd sit next to him, but then he'll want to touch me, and I won't be able to focus.
I know my lines. I can see the stage, my placement, the position of the male lead-I have to kiss him, which makes me a little nervous since Bancroft is going to see that happen. I'm not sure how he's going to react. He's said he's fine, and he knows it's acting, but I'm not so sure he'll be as okay with it as he says he's going to be once he actually sees it.
"Did you call?"
I look up and pretend I didn't hear the question. "Hmm?"
"Your father, did you call?"
"He was in a meeting. I left a message with his secretary and provided the necessary details."
"Has he called you back?"
"Not yet. He will. When he's not busy with work." Which could mean a few days from now, or even next week, which would be perfectly fine, because that's after opening night.
Bancroft sighs, but says nothing. He keeps pushing this, and I understand why. This truly is a huge accomplishment. I have a lead role in one of the best Off-Broadway productions in the city. And I managed to do it all on my own, without anyone making phone calls to get me an audition. My new agent, who I secured a week ago, was highly impressed.
I've managed to pay off my overdue rent, and my credit cards are no longer maxed out. It's still going to take time to get them all down to zero, but I feel like I have control of my life and that's the important part.
When I move into Bancroft's condo, which is an eventuality if things keep going the way they are, I want to come in as a positive contributor-maybe not with a huge bankroll, but at least I'll be stable and not a burden.
"Does he realize how important this is to you?"
It's my turn to sigh. "I know you just want to help, but you have to understand, my father's first priority has always been himself." It's why my mother is all the way in Alaska-she desperately wanted to make opening night, but she's in the middle of the ocean taking pictures of whales or something. It was a challenge to hear her over the crashing waves.
She's coming later this month and she's promised to stay a week or so. I can't wait for her to meet Bancroft. She's going to love him.
Bancroft drops the conversation. I'm glad. I don't think my heart can take more of my father's disdain or his dismissal of my chosen career path.
* * *
Six days later I'm in full costume. Butterflies have taken over my stomach. I peek through the curtains. Somewhere out there in the crowd are Bancroft and Amie. He wanted to bring his parents, but I told him it would be better if we waited on that. I've been to their house for dinner. Bancroft warned me about his mother being uptight. He didn't have anything to worry about, though, she was nothing but sweet with me. And his brothers are a trip. He was right, they look nothing alike, but they're all huge.
Three days ago I spoke with my father. He informed me he had meetings and golf, but he'd see whether it would work later in the month.