Most mornings were gym-time for both of us, but today I had to get ready for the audition. So Trey left alone, and a few minutes later, I made my way down to the audition space in the bowels of the Marriott Marquis—where so much pre-Broadway activity took place these days. Miller was there to witness. There was a small audience: three who were seated in the front row (obviously judges/casting scouts, with clipboards on their laps, two men and a woman) and a half dozen suits (probably investing producers) sprinkled farther back in the small auditorium.
They handed me some script and I read against another actor they had chosen. I didn’t have context so it was hard to project personality or emotion. I probably did just okay.
Then I handed the music to “Lonely Room”—my poignant soliloquy from Oklahoma! to the pianist. This was the song that I had transformed from Jud’s sorrowful croon in the musical to the heart-wrenching lament of a guy who had been conditioned to failure and solitariness—sung just before his total demise. I sang it with all the emotion that I had. When I finished, there was silence. Total silence. For a long time.
Then, I heard the woman’s whisper, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that song before—as many times as I’ve heard and seen Oklahoma! He’s remade it and made it his own.”
Auditions were scheduled for several days, so I wouldn’t be told the results for some time. But, two hours later, I heard from Brent that all the other auditions for the Phantom had been canceled—after they had sent the recording of my performance to Sir ALW himself. I couldn’t celebrate yet, but I could relax.
I txted Trey with the news—and received several congratulatory and suggestive emojis in response. My selection was confirmed a few days later, and Miller moved into negotiations on the contract. And, I informed the front office of Oklahoma! that I would leave the cast in six to eight weeks—when the recasting was scheduled. I knew the next weeks would be hectic, no frantic. I would be juggling performances, working with my replacement and starting preliminary rehearsals for “Baby Phantom”—the nickname that the cast had given to the as-yet un-named prequel.
*****
After a few weeks of this level of intensity, Trey and I were spending a leisurely dark Monday in my bed. (Broadway musicals typically don’t show on Mondays.) We had just finished Round One—our fast and furious grapple to “take the edge off” before we settled in to a long slow period of love-making. At my suggestion, Trey had pretty much moved in, although he maintained some things at his sister’s—to create the illusion for his family that he was working and gaining practical experience—in preparation for a return to Mobile and the family business, while he continued to date a mysterious “Angela”. (He had even mentioned that he had some ideas for an entirely new line of theatrical performance lighting.)
“I got some news from Daddy, today. I knew he was a Lisa Turner fan. But, I didn’t know that he knew Jake Williams’ family from Alabama. Mom’s absolute favorite musical is Oklahoma! She’s got the album (yeah, album, not CD) and has about worn it out. They want to come to New York to see it. And guess what? I’ve got an Auntie Em—actually three of them. The whole clan wants to come before Lisa and Jake leave the cast. They think that since ‘I’m in the business that I can get them good tickets. They’ve even given me the days when they could be here. Daddy and Mom spent their honeymoon at the Waldorf Astoria 35 years ago. They want to relive their youth. Can you help?”
“Of course. It’s done. Just give me the dates. I’ll make it happen. I’m guessing that they don’t know anything about us?”
“I haven’t said a word—although Mom keeps warning me about ‘those connivin’ New York girls who’d like to snare me.'” Sis of course suspects, but she thinks I’m with a girl and keeps asking me to arrange a meeting. I think she and Mom are in cohoots. If she can get me married and back home, she’ll have more time with the guy she’s seeing. I’m guessing that she hasn’t vetted him with Daddy yet. I’m pretty sure they’ll not be happy if she marries a Northerner. So, I just stall. I’m very good at that.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed. Nobody can edge me like you. You are almost super-human. Nobody can keep from cumin’ for so long as you, dear boy.” And as I completed that comment, I reached over and started to stroke his semi.
“What are you plannin’ to do if your sister mentions your steady girl? Surely your Momma will jump on that like a cougar on a possum.”
“We don’t have cougars on the plantation or anywhere near it, Flip. Except for the human variety at the club—where the caddies and pool boys are open season.” And with those words, he turned toward me and cupped my balls in his palm. “So nice and warm. So nice and lively. So full of life—and I’m not talkin’ about cougars, boy.”
He bent down and took me inside, using his lips and tongue to roll-back the hood. I started to thrust, but he pulled off, “Flip, y’all are becoming a New Yorker. Always so anxious. Let me have a little fun first.” And then, he sucked me back in as his tongue played with the sensitive glans. I rolled onto my back and spread my legs in surrender. He climbed in and captured me again in his warm, most mouth. In this position, he plunged over and over as the fingers of one had held my shaft steady and constricted, while the other played with my balls and the taint. I tapped, letting him know that I was about to cum. But rather than pull off, he drew me deeper into his throat while his index finger plunged and scraped my prostate. Fuck, he had me again. I felt the deep-seated spasms that would push my seed up and out. Then he pinched on the taint and inside, forcing everything I had to flow. I shot and shot and shot, until finally he withdrew just a bit, and my cum began to leak at the edges of his smiling lips.
I fell back on the pillow, noticing that he was still rock hard. He obviously hadn’t cum.
He started the conversation again. “So how do you think we can handle this? Daddy is not dumb. And when it comes to sniffing romance, Momma is better than a coon-dog on the trail of a rabbit. If she sees us together, it’s all over. Sis already suspects that I’m in love. And being coy about it. She’s gonna spill something for sure. I’m just not sure how to handle this.”
Trey and I had really never had the “talk.” I assumed he was exclusive—and I knew I hadn’t touched anyone but him since my good-bye engagement with Michael. We hadn’t even used the word “boyfriend” yet. In a superabundance of caution (and without my request), Brent had checked into Trey’s background and without my asking had confirmed that Trey was what he said he was—the only son of a Mobile entrepreneur with a medium-sized national electrical manufacturing business. He had graduated with honors, and he had joined the Brotherhood of Theatre Lighting Engineers in the normal way. There had been no unusual pressure brought to secure his position. He did have sibs, all girls, none married yet.