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Chapter 5 - Nadia

I walked to the nearest subway station and took the Q-train, which conveniently let out two blocks from the bar on 72nd Street. I would get there 15 minutes early, which was perfect since I wanted to freshen up in the bathroom. I didn’t look bad—I always put on some makeup and wore a low-cut top while bartending, since it meant better tips—but for a maybe-date, I wanted to kick things up a notch.

What would I say to him? “Hey, I totally lied on my Tinder profile, but I’m Angela and here I am!” There was a chance he’d get upset and leave. I might’ve done the same if I were in his position and a date lied to me about who they were. There was no way around that, though. I’d have to sit down and see how he took it.

I tapped my foot the whole way there while ignoring the creepy guy staring at me from across the subway car.

O’Rourke’s Bar would have been tough to notice if I wasn’t already looking for it. The sign was the size of a sheet of paper with a neon shamrock on it, above a narrow staircase leading down into the sub-floor of an apartment building. The smell of cheap beer and stale food bombarded me the moment I stepped inside. I was surprised at the size of the place; it was almost as wide and long as the building above, with at least 50 tables and booths. A raised stage was in the back where a band was presently setting up their instruments.

I spotted Braden immediately, in the booth on the left against the wall. He was sitting alone, focused on his phone. Was he perusing other Tinder contacts? Looking for someone better than Angela with the tits-down photo?

I put my head down and hugged the wall opposite Braden’s booth. There was a big enough crowd of people lingering around that I could slip back to the bathroom without Braden noticing, giving me time to freshen up and decide what to say.

At least, I thought I could slip to the bathroom unnoticed.

“Nadia?” came his deep, clear voice. It cut through the background noise like a knife. “Nadia!”

My first thought was a silly one: he knows my name! I had been certain he didn’t back at the theater. A thrill went up in my chest at being known by the male lead in the show.

It was quickly replaced by fear.

He was waving at me, so there was no way I could avoid him now. I approached and he quickly jumped up from his booth. We shared one of those awkward hugs between two people who weren’t used to seeing each other out in public.

“What are you doing here?” he asked with a funny look on his face. “Wait. Is this the bar you work at?”

My tongue froze in my mouth. I had no idea what to say to him. Why hadn’t I rehearsed this on the way here?

“I work down on 49th,” I said. “I’m, uh, up here to meet a friend, but I’m early.”

Everything I said was true. Totally, completely true. And also a glaring lie of omission.

“Cool!” Braden said with real enthusiasm. “I’m waiting for someone too. You can keep me company. Unless you’re too good to be seen out in public with the male lead from The Proposition.”

We scooted into opposite ends of the booth. A half-empty pitcher of beer was on the table with a stack of glasses next to it. He gestured to ask if I wanted some, and I nodded.

“Why do you say it like that?” I said. “If anything, you should be embarrassed to be seen with a measly understudy.”

He gave me a wry grin while pouring beer into a glass. It was foamy and dark. “Come on. You know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

“Being the lead male in this show is kind of like being the leader of the flat-earth society. It’s not the kind of thing I’ll be bragging to my friends about.”

I laughed at his bluntness. “It’s really bad, right?”

He handed me the beer. “The worst.”

I clinked my glass against his. “To the worst musical New York has ever seen.”

“To self-awareness,” he toasted, and we both took long pulls from our drinks.

“So why’d you accept the lead role of a shitty musical?” I asked.

He pointed with his beer. “Same reason you’re a backup dancer slash understudy to the lead female. It’s the best I can get for now.”

“Come on,” I said skeptically. “You? You’re…”

Gorgeous. Ripped. Charming. Totally lovable in every way.

“You’re a great actor,” I said instead.

“Some friendly ego-stroking isn’t why I asked you to sit with me, but I appreciate the kind lie.”

“I’m serious,” I said. “You’re actually good at this. Do you not think so?”

Braden shrugged and leaned back in the booth. He looked around the bar as if the answer might suddenly come to him.

“I’m okay,” he admitted. “But I’m not at the top of my game with this show. I haven’t been able to get into a real rhythm with my lines during rehearsal. Practicing at home I feel strong and confident, but on stage…”

“I don’t think it’s your fault.”

“What, because the script is so cheesy?”

I waffled. “Partly. It’s also…”

“What?” he asked. “Tell me.”

I studied the top of my beer. “It’s not really polite for an actress to bash someone else.”

Realization filled his blue eyes. “Tatiana.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that I’m talking about Tatiana,” I said, though my wink told him the truth.

He smiled ruefully. “A good actor would be able to work through a bad co-star.”

“But…”

He considered me for a minute like he wasn’t sure how much he could say. Sizing me up as someone he could potentially open up to. It took another drink before he finished the sentence. “But, Tatiana doesn’t make it easy. Half the time I feel like she’s reading her lines like she’s on a soap opera. It’s totally different than the type of projection required for the stage.”

I grinned from ear to ear. Hearing him vent to me was like seeing a little piece of who Braden really was, and it validated everything I already believed.

“It’s so good to hear someone else admit it!” I said. “These past few weeks have felt like one big practical joke, where nobody wants to admit that the lead is awful.”

“Not a practical joke. Just off-broadway hell.” Braden spread one of his hands. “But at least we’re all in hell together.”

“That’s not really comforting to a girl trying to get useful experience on her resume,” I grumbled. “Why doesn’t Director Atkins see how bad she is?”

“Oh, he probably sees it. He’s just not in a position to do anything about it.”

I waited for him to make a joke, but he was serious. “The stage director has the final decision on all casting decisions,” I said.

“That,” Braden replied, “is not entirely true.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s complicated.”

“What’s complicated about it? Tatiana is a bad actress, bad dancer, and bad singer. See? Simple.”

He shrugged, unable to give a satisfying answer. “I was being serious about what I said earlier. You’re a much better actress than her. I felt real chemistry between us during our scene.”

I took a sip of beer to try to give myself a second to think. He was confirming what I’d already thought, and that filled me with more happiness than getting to do the scene at all.

Feeling confident, I raised an eyebrow and said, “Oh, I know what you felt during our scene.”

It took him three heartbeats to realize what I meant.

“Oh,” he said, his handsome face turning three shades of crimson. “I was, uh…”

I reached across the booth to touch his hand. “I’m just teasing!”

“Guys can’t help it,” he said. Was this beautiful guy actually bashful? “We get excited for, like, no reason. Even if our jeans rub a certain way. It doesn’t matter if a woman is hot or ugly.”

“Which am I?” I asked casually.

He grinned. “You’re not the ugly kind, Nadia.”

It was my turn to blush. I took another drink of my beer and decided that this maybe-date was going pretty well.

Braden ruined the moment by glancing at his watch. It was a reminder that he was just killing time with me until his Tinder date arrived.

Sure, his date was me. But still.

“So who are you waiting for?” I asked. “Your girlfriend?”

“Nah, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Nice sidestep. “So it’s not a date?”

“Eh, not really.”

I’m just trying to get laid. That’s what he meant. And there was the inherent problem with Tinder: it was just like picking up someone at the bar. The stuff about being interested in theater was only a precursor to sex. His way in.

Not that I wasn’t okay with having just sex with Braden. I was very okay with that. But I could feel myself hoping for more than that.

“What about you?” he said, turning the tables on me. “You got a date?”

I had a few options here. Pretend I was meeting with a friend, which would kind of be true. Tell him I had a date, play hard to get a little.

“It’s actually a Tinder hookup,” I said bluntly.

He bobbed his head and said, “Oh, nice.” Was he disappointed? It was tough to tell. He was good at hiding his emotions, which I guess shouldn’t be surprising for an actor.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” I said. “You never know how these things will go.”

Braden shrugged and sipped his beer. “I wouldn’t know.”

I frowned at him. “You’ve never hooked up with someone on Tinder?”

“Honestly?” he replied. “Nope.”

Okay, now he was flat-out lying. Either that or this was his first time on Tinder too, but that seemed unlikely, and my admission gave him the perfect way to tell me about his date. My first reaction was annoyance, but then my heart leaped as I found a justification: maybe he was lying because he cares what I think about him. He didn’t want me to think he was a player.

“Why not?” I asked casually. “Is Tinder not your kind of thing?”

He shrugged one shoulder while searching for the answer. “It just seems kind of meaningless. Like picking someone up at the bar, but with even less personal connection. You might as well be ordering take-out. I understand why it’s popular—my friends are big into it, which is a long story by itself. But I prefer to get to know someone the old-fashioned way. Pick their brain, and ask them about their hobbies. I like to know who I’m with before I’m with them.”

I nodded along, each word hammering away at my inhibition. It was like he was reading lines right out of my own brain.

“But it’s totally cool that you’re into that,” he added. “No judgment here. It’s just not my style.”

A had a sinking feeling in my gut. We were totally similar, but I’d sort of lied to him about the whole thing. Now he thought I was someone completely different.

Fuck!

I rose from the booth. “I’ll be right back.”

I fled to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. Had I totally fucked up whatever chance I might have had with him? What was the deal with the Tinder invite, then? If I called him on it, he might get defensive. I didn’t want to start things out like that.

I touched up my makeup, unbuttoned one of the buttons to my top, and then pulled out my phone to send him another Tinder message.

Angela: Hey, I’m going to have to bail. Not feeling good tonight. Rain check?

When I returned to the booth, Braden was looking at his phone. His face remained blank, but I could see the confusion hidden underneath.

“I have an idea,” I said.

He put away his phone. “What’s that?”

I leaned across the booth, giving him a look at my cleavage. “I’m having a lot more fun with you than a random Tinder date. Why don’t we cancel our plans and have a few more drinks together?”

He cocked his head and answered without hesitation. “You know what? I’d love that.”

“I’m starving, so I’m gonna grab us another pitcher of beer and a plate of nachos.”

We shared a smile before I got up and went to the bar.

I was feeling pretty smooth right about then. I’d navigated the awkwardness of us matching on Tinder and segued it into a real date between us. If it went well, then I’d tell him that I was Angela and we could both have a good laugh about it.

I would need to thank Robbie and Jack at the bar for convincing me to come. Between my scene during rehearsal and now this, it was turning out to be a fantastic night.

When I returned to the booth with my pitcher of beer, Braden wasn’t alone.

Sitting with him were three other guys. They were leaning close, talking quietly, and then cut off when I approached. They all looked vaguely familiar, but I recognized the guy in the tank top first. He was the stagehand from the theater, the one who had installed the lights.

“See?” he said to the others while pointing at me. “She’s definitely Angela from Tinder.”

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