Secrets of My Hollywood Life #5: Broadway Lights by Jen Calonita

away. It was built in the 1930s and from what I read online, it's been restored twice since then. The first time they did away with all the vintage touches; the second time, when old school became new school, they put them all back. There are gilded gold moldings throughout, carved stone pillars, plush red carpeting, high vaulted ceilings, plaster walls, and heavy wood doors leading into the actual theater. What I love best is the painted murals on the walls. They seem art deco, which doesn't quite jibe with the rest of the Renissance decor and Greek statues, but it still works. The lobby is quiet--there is no performance on Mondays--but I can picture what the place must look like before a sold-out show. You can almost hear the voices of people finding their seats. I pull the closest heavy door open and step into the cool, partially dark theater. Rows and rows of velvet-lined seats greet me in the cavernous room. (I think Nadine said the house holds 1,100 seats between the main level and the balcony.) The decor is even more elaborate inside, with lots more gold leaf on the walls and carved stone on the balcony boxes. The stage looks huge from here and there are long, thick red velvet curtains pulled to the sides. I can see the fifty-person orchestra pit which is partially exposed to the audience, in front of the stage. Only some of the lights are on, but the stage is still completely lit up and I can see the exposed black bricks of the backstage area. The show's background is missing at the moment.
    There's a bunch of people standing around on stage and they all turn to look when the door closes behind me. I take a deep breath to keep from passing out. Broadway is a world I know nothing about and as excited as I am to try it, I can't help feeling like the awkward new kid in school. What if I can't keep up? What if I don't fit in? What if they hate me?
    "Kaitlin! Welcome!" Forest Amsterdam, the show's director, flies up the aisle toward me and puts my fear on hold. In a weird way, Forest is a newcomer just like me. Forest and I are the only two Americans in this production (he took over the direction when the show moved to New York). The rest of the actors are from the original London cast. Unlike me though, Forest is an old pro at Broadway. He just finished a traveling tour of The Little Mermaid and before that he worked on God of Carnage . "It's great to see you again," Forest says cheerfully. His face is pasty white, which is fitting for someone who has spent hours in the theater, but his bright smile and gray eyes are warm as he shakes my hand. He's wearing a baseball cap, like he did the last few times I met him, and I still don't know what his hair--or lack thereof--looks like, but I do know he's taller than me, and maybe even thinner. He's clean-shaven though, which is a one-up on most of the Hollywood directors I've worked with. "Have you been settling in okay?" he asks. "We wanted to give you a few days to get a feel for the city before we started hounding you."
    "I'm great," I tell him, and smile equally big, even though I'm freaking out. I've been side-eyeing the stage, which looks HUGE even up close. "I'm unpacked and I've been getting acquainted with my new neighborhood. I've already found the closest Starbucks and the best pizza place, and taken a twenty minute walk to Magnolia Bakery. I'm addicted to their cupcakes," I admit, embarrassed.
    Forest laughs. "Who isn't? You've got to try Crumbs, though. We'll have to get some of those in for rehearsals to keep your sugar level up." He jots a quick note on the pad he's carrying under the arm of his untucked navy blue dress shirt, which he is wearing over worn-in jeans. "The script--has it been treating you okay?"
    I nod. "I think I have my part memorized." I pull the pages out of my bag. "I made some notes where I have questions," I add nervously. Is it okay to have questions on a play script? That's the norm for movies, but I wasn't sure what the protocol was for