Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This Ch 09
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CastawayChapter 41 free porn video
When I entered the hotel lobby almost the first face I saw was a familiar and welcome one.
"Sam!" I exclaimed in surprise. I'd got him his ticket for Friday, but I'd figured he wouldn't be in until tomorrow.
"Hey, buddy," he said. He walked over, ignored my outstretched hand and gave me a big embrace. "I've been hunting for you a couple of hours, and finally some bozo condescended to tell me you were probably at the opera house rehearsing. I was about to head over to see if they'd let me in."
"Damn good to see you, Sam," I told him. "It's been way too long. But I wish you'd let me know you were coming in early, I'd have had our limo there waiting for you."
"Limo, huh?" he said, looking at me a little funny. "Naw, I just rented a car, I'm not used to clients springing for limos. Jesus, Nick, have you come up in the world or what? Anyhow, maybe it'll help with the bad news I'm bringing."
"Bad news?" What the hell could he be talking about?
"Yeah, I'm afraid Schaunard"—the La Boheme role he'd been lining up for me just before everything broke loose—"isn't available any more. They told me they couldn't wait any longer." He looked appropriately mournful, but a glint in his eye told me this was tongue-in-cheek.
I laughed. "Sam, I don't think I'm going to be singing too many Schaunards from now on."
He broke into a huge grin. "Tell me about it, buddy! I saw the Traviata review from here and got a little confused, couldn't figure out how Marko got back in and what he was doing singing brilliantly; the man's a journeyman. Then I saw the other piece and it all came clear; you were the one who sang the ass off it, and I couldn't have been happier. But they didn't change the fucking program, did they?"
"No, they just added a slipsheet and the reviewer missed it. I thought you'd OK'd it, I told you to take what they offered."
"Shit, no, I didn't OK it!" he exclaimed. "It never even came up. Just cheap asshole stuff, they're always pinching pennies. Man, if you're playing in the big leagues now—and it sure looks like you are—you need somebody to travel with you, check for things like that. Do a lot of other stuff, too."
I gave him a surprised look. "Funny you should mention it, Marilyn was saying the same thing just the other day."
"'Marilyn?'"
"Cam's manager."
"'Cam?'" His voice was a couple of notches higher.
"Uh, Camilla," I explained. "Sam, there've been, well, kind of a lot of changes in my life lately."
He nodded slowly, looking at me in almost a kind of awe. "I'll say. Jesus Christ. Want to fill me in a little?"
"Let's go up and I'll tell you." We walked over to the elevators and his eyes got a little bigger when I sailed past the others to the penthouse one. The doors opened immediately as they usually did, and I turned back to him. "Coming?" I said with amusement.
I let us in, and he looked around the place with his mouth hanging open. He walked over to the window and gazed out at what was indeed a spectacular view; the hotel was one of the tallest buildings in the city and it was on the edge of the downtown complex; you could see all the way to the surrounding desert. In a moment he turned away again, taking in the array of feminine geegaws that Camilla had dotting the various surfaces; neat housekeeping wasn't among her attributes.
He nodded to himself. "I guess this tells me some of it," he said. "You the boy-toy of the month?" He must have seen the stormclouds in my face—after Lawrence's nasty crack I was especially sensitive—because he immediately looked stricken. "Shit, I'm sorry, Nick, that was a dumb thing to say. Man, I apologize."
I took a minute to calm myself down; Sam had been a good friend for years. "I'm in love with her, Sam," I said softly. "And I'm pretty sure she feels the same way, OK? But all that's after the fact. I fucking earned that review for Traviata, and I'm going to earn another one for Tosca. And I'm going on from there. You interested in coming with me?"
"Talk to me, Nick," he said. "Bring me up to speed on all this before I stick my foot in my mouth again."
For most of the next hour I gave him a summary of the past four weeks, beginning with Turandot and running right through. Of course I skipped over a few bits that were none of his business, but I threw in enough for flavor so he could see how it was with Cam and me. When I was done the only thing he didn't know about was Asmedogh, but he didn't need to know that part and I wasn't about to tell him. A secret's something between two people at most; bring in a third and the only question is how soon is it going to be common knowledge.
He wanted to hear my new voice in person, of course, but I begged off. "You'll hear me Friday," I told him firmly. Some of Camilla's caution about between-performances singing was rubbing off on me; now that I had a voice worth preserving, I wanted to preserve it. But I told him I didn't think he'd be disappointed.
We were still talking—well, now more like just chatting idly, catching up on personal tidbits—when Camilla breezed in. "Hello, darling," she said cheerfully, and then took in Sam's presence. "Who's your friend?"
"Hi, sweetheart," I said. "This is Sam Whitmore, my agent I've told you about."
"Sam, of course, hello and welcome. I'm Camilla St. John."
For a moment Sam seemed too tongue-tied to speak. He'd got to his feet as soon as she'd come in, but he was now all but openly staring at her. I had to admit he had a point; even after nearly eight hours' rehearsal she still looked radiant. Any time Cam entered a room she tended to stop conversations, and hearts.
"Ms. St. John, I'm a huge fan," he finally stammered out. "I—" But she stopped him right there.
"Camilla, Sam," she said, flooding him with her brilliant smile. "You're Nick's friend, that's good enough for me. Honey, we need to get changed for dinner. Sam, you're coming with us?"
The back-and-forth flustered him afresh. "Well, I—"
"Of course you are," she said. He looked at me and I was smiling and nodding vigorously. "It was going to be just the five of us, and now we've got a full set. Three singers, three managers. Nicky, you need one of your new suits and a tie, dear. Sam, you're fine as you are, just make yourself at home while Nick and I put on fresh clothes." And she swept out into our bedroom.
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