Ambitious Page 6

  Winters raised an eyebrow as I entered the room. He glanced at his watch, and I knew he was not happy that I’d walked into his class ten minutes late. Especially after his thirty-minute lecture on the first day of school regarding attendance and tardiness. I found a seat in the third row and watched as Jason Michaels auditioned for my role.

  “Yeah. You see, this little liquor store we got in mind cost seventy-five thousand, and we figured the initial investment on the place be ’bout thirty thousand, see,” Jason said. He actually sounded pretty good as he continued to read the lines of Walter Lee Younger. “That be ten thousand each. ’Course, there’s a couple of hundred you got to pay so’s you don’t spend your life just waiting for them clowns to let your license get approved…”

  The entire class applauded as he took a bow and stepped down from the stage.

  “Anyone else for the role of Walter Lee Younger?” Winters asked in his Southern drawl. Even though he’d been a New Yorker for a several years, Mr. Winters never lost his Mississippi accent. On the first day of school, he boasted about his days at Julliard, where he studied drama. Julliard was definitely a school that I had my eye on for college.

  I stood and headed for the stage.

  “Where are your notes, Mr. Bishop?” Winters asked.

  “I don’t need any. I memorized my lines,” I said and then hopped onto the stage. I stood at center stage and cleared my throat. “Anybody who talks to me has got to be a good-for-nothing loudmouth, ain’t he? And what you know about who is just a good-for-nothing loudmouth? Charlie Atkins was just a ‘good-for-nothing loudmouth,’ too, wasn’t he! When he wanted me to go in the dry-cleaning business with him. And now—he’s grossing a hundred thousand a year. A hundred thousand dollars a year! You still call him a loudmouth!”

  After reciting the entire scene, I took a bow and exited the stage. Winters wrote some notes down as I went back to my seat.

  “Thank you, Mr. Bishop,” Winters said. “Now for the role of Mama.”

  “Can I go first?” asked the beautiful caramel-colored girl who I’d noticed on the first day of school. She had soft features and bright eyes. Not to mention a dimple in her chin when she smiled. She wore tight jeans and a shirt that hugged her breasts. I couldn’t imagine her transforming into the role of an old woman, but anything was possible in the theater.

  “Very well, Miss Bell,” Winters stated.

  She slipped out of her seat and took the stage. Her long brown hair was pulled into a ponytail. She stood there for a moment with her head hung, and when she raised it, she had transformed into Mama.

  “Child, when do you think is the time to love somebody the most? When they done good and made things easy for everybody? Well then, you ain’t through learning—because that ain’t the time at all. It’s when he’s at his lowest and can’t believe in hisself ’cause the world done whipped him so!” Without any notes, her strong New York accent had become a Southern drawl, like Winters’s. “When you starts measuring somebody, measure him right, child, measure him right. Make sure you take into account what hills and valleys he come through before he got wherever he is.”

  I was impressed. She was a female version of me. Good-looking and talented. Both those things wrapped up into one made for a dangerous combination. Nonetheless, I had to make her acquaintance. After class, I rushed her.

  “You’re definitely the right choice for the role of Mama,” I told her.

  She smiled and the entire room lit up. “And you were a pretty good Walter yourself.”

  “Winters called you Miss Bell, but I didn’t catch your first name.”

  “Asha.”

  “Asha Bell, I’m Drew…Drew Bishop.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Drew Bishop.” She gathered her things; stuffed them into her backpack.

  “How long have you been acting?” I asked. I couldn’t pry myself away.

  “Since I was like five years old. What about you?”

  “About that long.” I was just about to ask her what her after-school plans were.

  “Okay, you ready?” asked Jason Michaels as he took Asha’s backpack from her shoulder.

  “Yeah, I’m ready,” she said. “It was nice meeting you, Drew.”

  “Hey, bro. Your audition was pretty good. I wish you luck,” Jason said and then grabbed his woman around her waist.

  “Thanks, same to you,” I lied. I didn’t want to wish him luck. I wanted the role of Walter Lee Younger more than anything, and I hoped Jason’s acting abilities hadn’t overshadowed mine. And on top of it, he had the pretty girl. As Jason grabbed Asha by the hand, I watched as they exited the theater. He didn’t need any more luck than he already had.

  I rushed outside to pump more change into the meter where my car was parked. I turned the corner just in time to find a meter maid slapping a ticket onto my windshield.

  “Hey!” I yelled. “Wait a minute! I was about to feed the meter.”

  “Sorry.” The disgruntled red-haired man with a five o’clock shadow frowned and moved on to the next car.

  “Can you take this back and let me put change in the meter? Just this once?”

  “No can do. The meter ran out, dude.”

  “You don’t understand. If my father finds out that I drove this car to school, and got a parking ticket…”

  It was worthless trying to explain. I snatched the ticket from the windshield, looked at it.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have change, would you?” I asked, not really expecting a serious response.

  Red hair rolled his eyes. I looked around, searching for someplace I could get change. As I stepped inside a corner store, I knew that I would be late to my next class. Driving had turned out to be more trouble than it was worth.

  seven

  Marisol

  As the train came to a screeching halt at the Thirty-sixth Street station, I nudged Jasmine. She’d already started to doze before we’d left Manhattan. She was tired most afternoons because her mornings began so early. She had to care for her younger brother before school every day—making sure he was dressed and fed before escorting him to day care, which was two train stops in the opposite direction. Her evenings were spent babysitting him; reading to him before feeding him and making sure he bathed before bedtime. And after all of that, she stayed up half the night doing her own homework. And still found time every morning to send me a wake-up text and save me a seat on the train. That was impressive.

  I liked her and was glad that we were becoming friends. And since her mother finally had a day off, she had given Jasmine permission to follow me home to Sunset Park, so that we could work on a routine for Dance America. The first few rounds were group rounds, and what better three dancers to form a group than Jasmine, Luz and me? We were the best three dancers I knew. I couldn’t wait to introduce Jasmine to Luz. I’d rambled on about Jasmine to Luz, and about Luz to Jasmine. I figured it was time that each of them put a face with a name.

  Jasmine and I hopped off the train at Thirty-sixth Street and took the escalator up to the street level. We stopped at the Mexican ice cream vendor on the corner and I bought Jasmine a paleta, which is a Mexican ice pop, before heading down The Block. Luz, Kristina and Grace were in their usual spot on Luz’s stoop as we came around the corner. They rushed over when they saw me.

  “Hey, Mari,” Grace said and grabbed my paleta; took a huge bite of it. “How was school?”

  “It was fine,” I said and snatched the paleta back.

  “I bet you’re Jasmine,” said Kristina. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Don’t believe everything you hear,” Jasmine said with a grin.

  “Jasmine, meet Grace, Kristina and Luz. Everybody, this is Jasmine.”

  “Nice to finally meet you.” Grace gave a warm, sincere smile.

  Grace was the peacemaker in our group. She hated conflict and she never met a stranger. She had a knack for making people feel at home. She believed that everyone had a good heart; it was just life’s ci
rcumstances that altered who they were. She believed that murderers and rapists were ultimately good people; just victims of circumstance. Kristina was the smart one. She aced every test and had perfect attendance since the first grade. She took life way too seriously. We had to force her to let her hair down—have fun. Luz and I were most alike. We had a little bit of all those characteristics all wrapped up into one. Except Luz was a little more fragile; insecure.

  “Good to finally meet you, Jasmine,” said Kristina.

  Luz said nothing at first. Just observed the introductions. “I thought we were dancing today,” she finally said.

  “We are. At my house, as soon as I change,” I announced and headed toward my house. Jasmine followed. I looked at Luz. “You coming or what?”

  “Yeah, I’m coming.”

  Mami sat at the kitchen table sipping a cup of hot tea.

  “Hola, bebé,” she said and then asked me how was school. “¿Cómo fue la escuela?”

  “It was fine,” I told her. “Mami, I want you to meet my friend Jasmine from school. Jasmine, meet my mother, Isabel Garcia.”

  “Hi,” Jasmine said.

  “Pleased to meet you, Jasmine,” Mami said. “Are you a dancer or an actress?”

  “I dance.”

  “She’s in my dance class, Mami. And she’s a very good dancer,” I said.

  “Hi, Mrs. Garcia,” said Luz, Kristina and Grace in unison.

  “Hello, girls,” Mami said and smiled. “Sit down and have some sopaipillas.”

  “No, Mami, we can’t. We’ve got work to do,” I interjected and then tried to usher my friends out of the kitchen.

  “I want sopaipillas,” Grace whined and pushed her way back to the kitchen.

  “So do I,” said Kristina.

  “Me three,” Luz said.

  The three of them took seats at the kitchen table and dug into the plate at the center of table filled with the Mexican dessert.

  “What’s a sopaipilla?” Jasmine asked as she stood in the doorway.

  “It’s sort of like a Mexican doughnut,” I explained, “something that will definitely put pounds on your hips. We are dancers. We can’t afford the extra weight.”

  “Here, try one.” Grace handed one to Jasmine.

  Jasmine stuffed the puff pastry into her mouth. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

  “Let me get you all some milk,” Mami said and headed for the refrigerator.

  “I’m gonna go change into something more comfortable,” I announced. With my backpack flung across my shoulder, I headed upstairs to my room to change clothes.

  A CD player rested on the back patio. I popped in Jasmine’s CD, and Willow Smith started singing about whipping her hair back and forth. Jasmine started moving to the music; a routine she’d obviously learned from the video. I followed her lead. It was a fun song and we bounced to the music as we both whipped our hair back and forth to the music. Grace and Kristina joined in.

  Luz stood by, her arms folded across her chest, a frown on her face. “I don’t like that song. Let’s do something else.”

  “I like it,” I told her.

  “What do you mean, Luz?” Grace asked. “That song is hot!”

  “On fire!” Kristina exclaimed.

  “Willow Smith is like a…child…” said Luz. “It’s a kiddie song.”

  “A very hot kiddie song,” Jasmine said and then gave me a high five.

  We continued to move to the music. Soon, Luz ended the CD, took it out of the player and set it on top. She popped in a different CD—an upbeat song by Justin Bieber.

  “Seriously, Luz?” I asked. “How rude was that?”

  “Now this song is hot!” she proclaimed and then started moving her body to the music, “and Justin is just so cute!”

  “You’ll have to excuse her,” I told Jasmine.

  “No sweat. I like JB,” she said with a smile, “and he is cute.”

  The two of them—Luz and Jasmine—danced energetically. At first it was as if they were challenging each other to see who moved better. They began to make up routines—separate routines, but both very original. They were both very talented, and confident. I watched and admired as my two friends displayed their talent in my backyard. Grace, Kristina and I swayed from side to side and clapped our hands to the beat as we looked on.

  When the song ended, I restarted it. “Both of you are great dancers. Now let’s put those moves together and come up with one routine.”

  “That was so hot!” said Grace.

  “Okay, girls.” I grabbed them both by the hand. “From the top.”

  The three of us danced until we had successfully come up with a routine—or at least part of one. Before long, Luz had let her guard down just enough to share some moves with Jasmine, and Jasmine was more than willing to teach us what she knew. Soon we had the makings of a successful dance routine that we could all be proud of.

  “The competition for Dance America will be stiff. We have to be original,” I reminded them.

  “Absolutely,” Jasmine agreed.

  “You guys need a name for your group,” Grace said, and it dawned on me that in less than an hour, Jasmine, Luz and I had officially become a group.

  “Yeah, you can’t audition for Dance America without a name,” said Kristina.

  “They’re right, you know. We do need a name,” I said.

  “Dance Divas,” announced Kristina.

  “No, that’s dumb,” Luz said, shooting it down. “It’s not even original. Everyone calls themselves a diva nowadays.”

  “She’s right,” I agreed, “the word is overused.”

  “How about Premiere Princesses,” Jasmine exclaimed.

  “I don’t attend Premiere,” Luz stated with attitude. “That won’t work.”

  “I got it,” I announced. “We don’t all attend Premiere, but we’re all from Brooklyn. And we’re all beautiful. How about Brooklyn Bellezas!”

  “What’s that mean?” Jasmine asked.

  “Brooklyn beauties!” Grace said and grinned. “I’m loving it!”

  “It’s perfect,” said Kristina.

  “It’s okay,” Luz said.

  “I like it,” Jasmine said and then grabbed her backpack and pulled out a package of cigarettes. “Mind if I smoke?”

  “Not a good idea,” I said. “My mother is right on the other side of that wall. And besides, secondhand smoke is worse than the stuff you’re putting into your own lungs.”

  “You smoke?” asked Grace.

  “Yes,” Jasmine stated.

  “Why?” Kristina asked. She really seemed to want an answer. “You’re so talented. It seems like smoking would damage your lungs and stop you from doing your best at dancing.”

  “It stops me from having a nicotine fit,” Jasmine said with a smile. “I have to get going anyway. It’s getting late.”

  “Can you come back tomorrow after school?” I asked, anxious for us to prepare for auditions.

  “I gotta pick up my brother tomorrow. And I’m not sure when my mother will have another day off.”

  “Can you bring him here after you pick him up?”

  “Now that’s an idea,” Jasmine said. “You sure it’s okay with your folks if I bring him over? He’s a terror.”

  “I’m sure they won’t mind,” I said.

  “Okay, then we’ll come over tomorrow after school,” said Jasmine as she headed toward the gate.

  “Wait a minute and we’ll walk you to the subway station,” I told her. “Let me just tell my mom where I’m going.”

  “Cool.”

  Grace, Kristina and I walked Jasmine to the subway. Luz stayed behind; claimed she had something to do for her mother. She was jealous of Jasmine. I could tell. But she didn’t have reason to be. The friendship that she and I shared could never be replaced, but she had to know that I would meet new friends. I was attending a new school, with new adventures every day. And I was loving every minute of it.

  eight

  Drew />
  I exhaled after I pulled into the garage and found that my father’s SUV wasn’t parked in its usual place. It wasn’t often that I drove my car to school. In fact, it was my father’s rule that I take the Mercedes out for a spin only on weekends, and only with permission. Occasionally I broke the rules and drove Delilah to school. Delilah. She was my candy-apple-red birthday present when I turned sixteen. With a drop-top and a set of nice wheels, Delilah had become my prize possession. Only I didn’t get to spend much time with her. She spent more time parked in our garage than she did on the streets of New York City. That was the downfall of living in a city like this—one where it was ludicrous to drive around when it made more sense to walk, grab a cab or ride the subway. What was the point in having a vehicle that you couldn’t drive? Which is why I broke the rules occasionally.

  Driving her to school was like heaven. Especially at my old public school, where girls went crazy over guys who owned a set of wheels. At my old school, everyone knew me. I was popular and famous—well, my dad was famous. But everyone knew that I was the son of a former semipro ballplayer and a sportscaster, and they treated me as such. There wasn’t anyone who didn’t know my name. However, my experience with driving Delilah to Premiere wasn’t quite what I expected. There was no hype, and the parking attendant didn’t even know who I was. I had to park on the street, which was dangerous. And I received a parking ticket from a disgruntled meter maid.

  At my old school, I was a basketball star. I scored more points in a single game than most of my teammates scored all year. The coaches let me have my way on the court. I called the shots. At Premiere, I was nobody. I had talent and a love for the stage, but nothing more. Building a reputation all over again wasn’t going to be easy, but I was up for the challenge. I needed to follow my dreams.

  I pulled the Mercedes into our apartment’s parking garage, lifted the top and shut off the engine. I sat there for a moment, thinking about the events of the day; especially my audition, wondering if I’d be considered for the role. There were so many talented actors in my class, some who’d been acting since preschool. My acting career consisted of the Christmas pageant at my old elementary school in sixth grade and the Easter play at Gram’s Holy Ghost church in Jamaica, Queens, where she lived. It wasn’t until the production of A Christmas Carol last year that I realized I had talent. It was then that I’d decided to pursue my acting career.