Once Upon a Real Good Time by Lauren Blakely

Author:Lauren Blakely [Blakely, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lauren Blakely Books

* * *

Mackenzie: If we can’t go out, can you at least tell me the Les Mis story you were going to share?

* * *

Campbell: Think you can handle it?

* * *

Mackenzie: Now my curiosity is completely piqued.

* * *

A minute later, a clip from YouTube appears on my phone. I hit play on a grainy video that’s about twenty-five years old. And oh my God, Campbell is the most adorable ten-year-old street urchin I’ve ever seen as he sings about “Little People.”

When I’m done, I call him. “I don’t mean this in the same way I admired your teenage Tiger Beat face, but you are so freaking adorable on stage singing with the French revolutionaries.”

He cracks up. “That’s my dirty little secret. I started as a child actor. Now you know why I couldn’t tell you who I was when I first met you. You’d have run for the hills.”

“Oh, ye of little faith. I think it’s completely amazing.” I practically bounce with excitement. “Dude, you were in a musical. You’re not just a rock star, but you were on the Great White Way. My admiration for you is sky-high now.”

He laughs harder. “You’re a hoot, Mackadoodle.”

“Tell me everything about it. What was the stage like? What were the dressing rooms like? How was Fantine? Was she a total diva? I need to know every detail.”

I flop down on the couch as he entertains me with tales of what it was like to work on Broadway when he was ten. I’m smiling and laughing the entire time.

He clears his throat. “Hey, are you just hanging out at home alone?”

“I was supposed to have a date with this completely fascinating and handsome guy but that didn’t happen.”

“Huh. Funny. I was supposed to have a date with this captivating blonde, but then fate decided to fuck us with a chainsaw.”

“You should write a song about that. Fate screwing things with a chainsaw. That would be an awesome song.”

“Actually, before you called, I was working on a new song for the Righteous Surfboards.”

I sit up higher. “You were? Can I hear it?” My voice rises hopefully.

“It’s not ready yet. But would you want to when it’s farther along?” He sounds eager to share it with me.

“I’d love to. I really dig your music, Campbell.”

“Thank you. I like hearing that, especially since it doesn’t really seem like it’s your style at all.”

“Are you kidding? I loved listening to you guys play. I had such a great time, and it wasn’t just because I was thinking about you naked,” I say, and there’s something that’s kind of freeing, I’m learning, about talking to someone I like but can’t date. It’s as if I can say all these things that I might have held close to the vest before. Knowing it’s not going anywhere unleashes the honesty.

“It’s good to know my songs can transcend thoughts of nudity.”

“It’s proof of your musical talent.” I lean back against the couch pillows, settling into the conversation. “Where’s your daughter tonight?”

“She’s playing miniature golf.

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