Once I took a forced breath, I refocused on my surroundings and noticed the seas had calmed considerably since my dad had left. I scrambled from my bed and went to look for him, convincing myself I would find him snoring away in the cockpit despite the wind and rain, like a true sailor.
He wasn’t there.
I could feel my heartbeat in my throat as I flipped on the boat’s lights in the cockpit and searched the bow. He wasn’t there either.
Frowning, I made my way toward the stern, holding onto the side of the boat to steady myself against the rocking. There were only so many places he could be. I checked every shadow, every crevice, every inch of the small vessel before returning to the open deck.
“Daddy!” I yelled, battling with the wind.
Panic cycloned in my chest as I whipped myself in a circle, searching through darkness and tiny glimpses of light coming from the sky and the cockpit.
“Daddy!” I screamed again, this time louder, unable to help the cry that came with it as it pushed up my throat.
He’d always answered me on my first call, no matter how heavy the rain and wind, as though he could sense when I needed him most. Right then was one of those times.
I’d learned to find beauty in the swells, to go with the flow and let the weather control my speed. I’d learned all about celestial navigation and how to anchor a boat in the reef. My daddy had taught me everything, so I thought. He’d never taught me what to do if he ever left me, which was exactly what happened that night.
As I spun in a slow circle, my eyes wildly searching the moonlit water for any sign of life, I already knew the truth.
My daddy was gone.
Chapter 1
Kai
A droplet of rain pelted my nose just as my phone buzzed inside my purse. Ignoring it, I picked up my pace. I was only two blocks from Gravity Dance Complex for an audition, and the anticipation was already knotting my gut. The looming clouds only added to the whirlwind of my anxiety. I couldn’t afford to let anything stand between me and this gig, not even Mother Nature.
While the details of the job were confidential, my agent, Sheena, knew it was an opportunity I couldn’t refuse. Months had passed since I’d seen a paycheck, and my reserves were running dry. A single audition didn’t guarantee anything for my future, but I was hungry, determined. And… well, desperate. The details simply didn’t matter when time was running out, and mine was.
“It’s for the lead in a Broadway production,” Sheena had told me.
At first, I thought she was joking with me. She couldn’t have meant actual Broadway. I lived in Los Angeles, where the dance opportunities were strong, and while shows frequently traveled through LA, theater life was a beast of its own, a beast I stayed far, far away from.
“The lead?” I coughed out a laugh, thinking she was probably vaping some THC again. “Maybe you need a refresher on my skills. Singing is not one of them. Dancing and acting, yes.” I should have ended the conversation right there.
As confident as I was in the skills I did have, I felt a sting of disappointment with my admission. I’d grown up admiring the Broadway scene and dreaming of a chance to be part of a production like Wicked or Rent, my favorites as a kid, but I learned the hard way that I wasn’t a triple-threat like most of those stars.
I never forgot the look of horror that came over my choir teacher’s face—horror I’d initially confused for admiration—when I had raised my hand, offering myself for the part of Grizabella in our eighth-grade production of Cats. At that time, I was confident I was destined to be the next Idina Menzel. Yup, I had so many stars in my eyes I was blind to the truth. Until I stood center stage at my Cats audition, spotlight parked on me, and I belted out the first line to “Memories.” Everyone in the room burst into a fit of stifled giggles, teachers included.
That was when the realization hit. Theater talent could dance, act, and sing. I could dance, and I could act, but my singing voice was as angelic as a flock of dying seagulls. I had no business being there.
“I’ll be laughed off that stage if I so much as open my mouth,” I told Sheena.
“You don’t need to sing,” she assured me. “It’s a dance-only musical. What are they calling it?” What sounded like paper shuffled while she tried to find an answer to her own question. “Ah, a jukebox musical.”
“Huh? Is that a thing?”
“Yes,” she said with an annoyance that made me cringe. “It’s a thing. The entire show is told through live music and dance. And I think it’s a perfect next step for you. You said you were looking for something different, something that involved travel and a new challenge. Well, this is it.”
Though I was still doubtful, my interest was piqued. With the rent for my tiny studio apartment skyrocketing at the end of the month and no solid income to feel comfortable committing to anything, a travel gig did seem like the best option. With free room and board, I could save money while I worked. Then when I came back to LA, I could find a place I could afford, even if that meant moving in with my best friend, Wayne, for a few months.
So I accepted the invite-only audition, which was based on no more than a demo reel of my dancing experience and my agent’s reputable word. Apparently, that was enough for them to want a second look. The producers and directors and casting agents all wanted to see what I could do live on stage. And I would show them, if I could only get to Gravity without any casualties.
My phone buzzed again, bringing me back to the present. Only one person would be calling me obsessively right now, and as much as I wanted to ignore her, I couldn’t. Blood raced through my veins as I halted at a crosswalk while the rest of the crowd moved forward. I pulled my phone from my activity bag and puffed out an annoyed breath when I saw Sheena’s name light up the screen.
“Your timing sucks,” I told her.
Her smoky laughter filled the phone line. “Just checking in.” Sheena paused as a horn blared from the road. “Tell me you’re there already. You have fifteen minutes before they close registration.”
My stomach squeezed, my chest heavy with dread. “I know, I know. My landlord was pounding on my door this morning, so I had to sneak out the window and book it down the fire-escape stairs.” A laugh bubbled from my throat at the memory, but I bit my lip so Sheena couldn’t hear. “I’m on my way. Construction is a bitch, and I’m footing it.”
A loud sigh crossed the line. “We’re going to have to work on your punctuality.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s never been a problem before, but this phone call is not helping.” I jolted forward when the crosswalk light started to count down.
“Fine,” she said. “Good luck at your audition. Call me when it’s over. But, Kai—”
I didn’t like the way she said my name, like she needed to deliver bad news and was bracing me for it.
“Be open to all the possibilities today, okay?”
My stomach churned at her ominous warning. “What is that supposed to—”
She’d already hung up.
With a frustrated growl, I clutched my phone and ran the rest of the way across the street. I would have been at Gravity already if I hadn’t taken that phone call. What made it worse, the one rain droplet from minutes before had turned into a full-fledged rain shower while I was on the phone. On any other day, I would’ve questioned any sort of precipitation in LA during the summer months, but not that day. Nothing would surprise me.