Exit Stage Left

Chapter 9: Belonging

We walk in silence, not awkward at all, a lovely, companionable quiet. Miller leads me deeper into Hell's Kitchen, further from the center of the city and toward the water, until we pause in front of what looks like an abandoned warehouse. The top floor is flooded with light, though, and music pours out of the open windows.

I shiver, wondering what I'm getting myself into even as excitement builds.

"Come on," Miller says, his shyness still in place, sweet smile on his lips. I follow him to a side door, the pale blue paint peeling, rust making hardened trickles from a couple of dents. But the lock looks new and the door itself is fairly substantial. I feel eyes on us, know this can't be a great part of the neighborhood as most of the buildings seem more run down, a few corners dominated by working girls in skimpy clothes with dead eyes staring into the night.

I wonder if I'm doing the right thing.

Miller holds the door for me, pulling it shut behind us, not bothering to lock it, sort of defeating the purpose as far as I'm concerned. A creaking elevator carries us from the brightly lit lobby area, worn but clean, up to the top of the building.

The doors open onto a huge space, giant windows on two walls. The source of the light and music. And it's filled with people my age, all laughing, talking. Acting out scenes, from what I can gather, as Miller continues on toward the back of the big room to what looks like an industrial kitchen. Aleah spins, drink in hand, spots me. Comes running, a huge smile on her face. Her lips are moist on my cheek before she pulls away.

"You're here!" She spins me, and I laugh.

"I said I'd come." I look around, breathless with my growing excitement. "What is this place?"

"Miller's," Piper says, handing me a plastic glass with what smells like beer in it. I smile, don't drink it. I hate beer with a passion. I spot Miller, still on the move, heading past the kitchen to a door. He disappears through it, closing it behind him as I gape around.

"This is his house?" It's massive, and though in a rougher part of the city, I know it has to be pricey. "He's rich?" I don't know why that bothers me. No, not bother, not exactly. Just feels like I've uncovered something private about him I instinctively know makes him uncomfortable.

Ruben rolls his eyes, sighs dramatically. "The Great Miller Hill," he says, "is loaded, sweet cheeks."

"Do you all live here?" I can only imagine how amazing it would be, like camping out with the coolest people I've ever met.

"We might as well," Aleah laughs. "And now, so do you."

I take a minute to sneak away, find a quiet corner and call Aunt Vonda. I already warned her I'd be out late, but I want to check in anyway.

"I'm not your mother, pet," she says over the sound of her TV. "You have fun. Besides, you're young-and you don't work until lunch." Her laughter makes me giggle.

More beer arrives through the elevator with three new players and six giant pizzas five minutes later. I settle on the arm of the couch with my beer traded for soda and a slice of pepperoni in my hands. Miller reappears, coming to sit next to me, changed from his button up into a t-shirt.

I'm expecting some kind of crazy party, my only real experience with this kind of thing the ones I attended when Ian was healthy enough to go. The old shale pit back home made the perfect weekend party spot, though what anyone saw in drinking until they threw up, staggering around, groping each other and smoking weed until they passed out was beyond me.

I needn't have worried. This particular party is nothing like the small town escapism I am used to. For the next few hours, I sing and laugh and join impromptu scenes, read from pages handed to me, try my voice at harmony on show tunes I only vaguely know the melody and words to and learn some new dance moves I'm sure make me look like a clumsy i***t.

I hardly care. Piper continually cracks me up, his flamboyant nature counterpoint to Miller who pairs with him in the most outrageous scenes. I finally accept a cooler from Aleah who wrinkles her nose at the beer, too, "who likes that crap?" and have the most brilliant night in history.

Roger's little aberration is now only a blip on my radar.

This is what I've been craving, what I hoped to find in New York. This is my dream, being surrounded by those who share my passion. I loved rehearsals at home doing theater, the fact the cast felt like family right from day one. But the feeling always faded when the show was over.

This, these people, give me the feeling I'll never lose my family connection again.

I'm shocked and flustered when Miller pulls Piper to a halt after a particular scene and raises his glass to me.

"Roger Doger," he says while the others groan, "decided our darling Riley," all eyes turn to me and now my cheeks are on fire, "was a blow up doll earlier." I freeze for the second time that night, feeling like I'm being assaulted all over again as he goes on. "What do we do to those who think groping actors is allowed?"

A moment of utter silence falls when my bubble bursts, and I am suddenly afraid they'll hate me for what happened, blame me somehow.

And then, in a roar, they boo and hiss and curse. At Roger.

"The ass," Piper says, rushing over, hugging me. "He'll never teach again."

They all nod, offer me condolences and suggestions for punishment while I gape and feel tears threaten at their support.

From that moment, if I hadn't felt loved already, they surround me, engage me in every activity, fighting over me at times while I laugh and do my best to make everyone happy. Miller's beaming face flashes in my view from time to time, Aleah glued to one hip, Piper to the other.

"Silly," Aleah whispers in my ear at one point. "I saw the fear on your face. But s**t like that? Don't fly, not with us. We look out for each other. Because no one else is going to."

Very good to know.

I'm belting out the alto part of "Seasons Of Love", the theme song from Rent, when my eyes drift to the window. And the sight of the sky turning pale orange. It's morning already? I don't want the night to end, feel more energized and full of power than I ever have.

This has been the most incredible night of my life.

Aleah and Piper suddenly fade, as though morning casts some spell over them. They cuddle together, Ruben with his head on Piper's lap, on the end of the couch as I sink to the arm and look around. Realize, with a blush of modesty, some of my new friends have paired off, are murmuring to each other in dark corners in the most intimate ways.

I think it's time to go. Stand and see Miller watching me. He rises from his chair, comes to my side, leads me toward the elevator as though knowing what I'm thinking.

"I want to show you something," he says.

We go up instead of down, rising to the roof. I step out into the early light of morning and breathe deep, catching the hint of salt from the Hudson, the flashes of sun passing across windows of the distant high rises. Miller and I stand on the edge of the roof, leaning over the wall, looking at New York, so beautiful in the dawn.

"Thank you," I say, wishing I had better words. "Tonight was a dream." A dream come true, not just fantasy.

He meets my eyes, his almost transparent in the sunlight. "You belong with us," he says.

I want to agree, hope he's right. The last few hours are everything I've ever imagined my life could be. "Is it like this every night?"

He laughs, pushes back his golden hair. "Most nights," he says.

"It's generous of you," I say, suddenly remembering he's rich and maybe I should act differently around him. But no, he's Miller to me. Whatever his financial status.

Miller shrugs. "I like having people around," he says, voice darkening, frowning at the city a moment before his mood lightens again. "I hope you'll be back."

It's odd, I feel like I've learned more tonight than I did in both classes with Roger. "I will," I say. "Maybe you could recommend a good school, too." I've made up my mind I'm going for it. "I want to act for a living."

So amazing to say it out loud. Miller grins.

"As if there was any doubt of that," he says, leaning toward me to tap the end of my nose with his index finger. He's very close to me, close enough I can see the sparkle deep in his gaze, the soft stubble on his chin. The laugh lines around his eyes and mouth.

The morning breathes in, the sound of the city soft in the background as Miller leans closer. His breath is warm on my skin, the tip of his nose brushing over mine as his mouth descends. My lips part, eyes drifting closed.

And the image of Ian appears out of nowhere. Reminding me of everything I'm about to throw away with this one kiss.

I pull away from Miller with a soft meep of surprise before I can stop myself, guilt hitting me in the chest with the blow of a hammer. Miller's own shock is edged by concern.

"Riley, I'm sorry." He steps back. "I'm such an insensitive ass. After what you went through tonight-"

I shake my head, hands now trembling, knees weakened, willing Ian away so hard the phantom vanishes. Leaving more guilt behind. "No, it's okay," I flap my hands at him like that will clear the air. Tension has returned, tightens my shoulders, making it hard to breathe. "I have to go."

I turn and run away from him, wishing I wasn't such a coward, that, for once, Ian would leave me alone. Then guilt, around and around in a circle of punishment, even as Miller calls my name.

The elevator doors close on him before he can reach me and I'm sobbing into the small space, hating how I just ruined the best night of my life.

***