Isobel was the first person to arrive outside the rehearsal studio on Eighth Avenue and Fifty-fifth Street shortly before seven on Saturday morning. Delphi was the second.

"Glad to see you're still alive," Delphi said, sitting on the stoop next to Isobel.

"So far, so good. How are you?"

"Still asleep." Delphi yawned and looked around. "Where is everyone?"

Isobel shrugged and pulled her notebook from her shoulder bag. She opened to the ad she had pasted in from Backstage.

"Two by Two," she read. "Auditions start at ten."

"Maybe we can at least go inside."

They moved into the vestibule and hit the buzzer for the studio. There was no answer.

Isobel frowned. "I don't get it. Remember how packed the other one was?"

"Who knows?" Delphi shrugged. "I'll go get us some coffee. Oh, and here." She pulled a piece of paper from her own bag and handed it to Isobel. "Start a sign-up. They don't have to honor it, but they probably will. Reduces the chances of bloodshed."

Isobel put the date and their names at the top of the page. She wondered whether the rest of the non-Equity population knew something about this showcase production they didn't. Or maybe they just liked to sleep in on weekends. By the time Delphi returned, a few more groggy actors had wandered up and added their names to the list. At nine o'clock, the super unlocked the door, and the line, still small compared to the throng the other day, filed silently upstairs. Shortly after, a gangly, effeminate man in a mustard-colored sweater appeared and took the sign-up sheet.

"We'll start at ten o'clock sharp with..." he glanced at the sheet, "Isobel, Delphi, and then Jessica. They're asking for sixteen bars of an up-tempo and sixteen bars of a ballad."

Isobel gasped. "Sixteen bars? That's it?"

"That's it."

"What can you tell in sixteen bars?"

"A lot," the man said meaningfully and started off down the hall.

Isobel called after him. "But you can't build the dramatic arc of a piece! You can't create a mood, a scene!" Delphi nudged her. "What? I'm right!"

"Rule number one," murmured Delphi, "don't piss off the monitor."

They retired to the ladies' room, where they applied makeup and changed into heels. Isobel wandered into the corner of the small anteroom and began to hum lightly. She wished she had been able to warm up more thoroughly, but she didn't dare cause another disturbance at the residence, especially at such an early hour. She tried a few scales, buzzing her lips together to trill the first few notes of Leonard Bernstein's "It's Love."

Delphi didn't seem at all concerned with warming up. She had removed the silver rings from her nose and ears and was taming her frizz into a cascade of sausage curls. Makeup in delicate pinks completed the look, and when she turned around, Isobel was shocked to see her transformed into a period heroine.

"Wow! You look totally different!"

"Thanks. I think."

"What are you going to sing?" Isobel asked.

"Not sure. The part I'm right for physically is that high soprano thing, the pagan girlfriend, but I'm an alto. And the alto character is supposed to be unattractive."

"Which you definitely are not," Isobel said.

"Well, not in this get-up." Delphi turned toward the mirror. "I guess I'll just sing my standard tune."

"What's that?"

"'It's Love,' from Wonderful Town," Delphi said. "Nobody does it."

That's what you think, thought Isobel, her heart sinking. Now what? They couldn't go in one after another singing the same song. What if Delphi sang it better?

"What key do you sing it in?" Isobel asked casually.

"A. I had it transposed down, just because I like the song so much."

Isobel sang it higher, in the score key. It would have a distinctly different sound, but it was still the same song. The same mood, the same scene—even in sixteen bars. She suddenly understood what the monitor meant. But Isobel had only grabbed two songs from her music book that morning, "It's Love" and a comic number by Irving Berlin that wasn't as appropriate.

Before she could figure out an alternate plan, the monitor called her name. She threw a helpless look at Delphi, who gave her a thumbs-up, and followed the mustard sweater into the audition room.

Isobel slapped on a smile and approached the two middle-aged men behind the desk. "Good morning. I'm Isobel Spice!" she chirped.

She handed her headshot and résumé to them and walked over to the pianist.

"Can you play "I'll Know" without the music?" she whispered. "I was going to sing something else, but I've changed my mind."

The accompanist, an acne-scarred, nerdy-looking boy, scowled at her. "No, I can't. Don't you know you should always bring your whole book with you?"

Isobel sighed and set the sheet music for "It's Love" on the piano.

The accompanist's face broke into a smarmy grin. "This is a much better choice anyway. Nobody does it."

The joke's on you, buddy, thought Isobel.

He started playing before she'd even reached the center of the room. She had no choice but to go with it, strolling along as if she were just discovering how she felt. Her bright, silvery soprano filled the room, and she was relieved to find that her voice was in fine shape. Suddenly, the bottom dropped out and she caught herself short.

"Hey!"

"That's sixteen," announced the pianist.

"What else do you have?" asked the older of the two men behind the desk. He had a beard but no moustache, which made him look as if a small hamster was glued to his chin.

"Can I finish 'It's Love'?" she asked.

"We'd rather hear something else for contrast," the second man said.

"The monitor should have told you. One ballad, one up-tempo," Hamster-chin added.

"Well, what do you consider 'It's Love?'" Isobel asked. "Yes, it's a love song, but it's not a ballad in the traditional sense. The tempo is too bright." She was aware of a second Isobel looking on from outside her body, urging, "Shut up. Stop talking now. Shut UP!" But she didn't. Instead, she turned to the piano player.

"Don't you agree? I mean, what would you call it?"

He frowned at her and shook his head ever so slightly. But Isobel pressed on, turning back to the two men.

"I've never understood why people insist on categorizing songs that way, ballad and up-tempo. It's meaningless. Take Cole Porter's 'Miss Otis Regrets.' That's a comic song, but it's definitely a ballad." She paused, considering. "I think what you really mean is sixteen bars comic and sixteen bars serious. I've got 'The Secret Service' by Irving Berlin. I can do that."

The auditioners gaped at her. Hamster-chin finally spoke.

"I'm afraid we need to move on. But thank you for the musical theater pedagogy lesson. It was most enlightening."

Mortified, she returned to the pianist to collect her music. He was waiting for her, the music already in his hands, an evil grin on his pimply face.

"It's a ballad, you idiot," he sneered.

Isobel left the room, still reeling from her mouth's betrayal of her common sense. She walked past Delphi, who shot her a furious look before following the monitor into the studio. Isobel plopped down on the chair her friend had vacated.

In her confusion about what to sing, she had forgotten to savor her first New York audition. Now that it was over, she only wanted to forget it. Would she ever learn to keep her stupid mouth shut?

Through the door, she heard the brief piano introduction to "It's Love." She stood up again and put her ear against the door.

The melody was only barely recognizable as the same one that Isobel had just sung. Could transposition to a different key make a song so unrecognizable?

Isobel closed her eyes and focused on the words.

No, it was definitely the same song. It was Delphi. She was terrible.

The door opened a few seconds later and Delphi emerged. She and Isobel stared at each other for a moment, then Isobel croaked, "That was great."

"It sucked," Delphi said, pushing past her.

"Wait!"

Delphi whirled on her, and Isobel could see her struggling to sort her emotions. "Why didn't you tell me you were singing the same song?"

"I...I don't know...I'm sorry!"

"You could have warned me!"

"I was trying to think of something else to sing!"

"You had the advantage, going first."

That isn't why I had the advantage, Isobel thought, then mentally smacked herself for the disloyal thought.

"I didn't have any other music with me. I asked the pianist if he could play 'I'll Know' and he said he couldn't. I think he was lying. He was a total jerk."

"They didn't even ask me for anything else," Delphi said.

"Maybe they heard everything they needed?" I certainly did, Isobel thought, and mentally smacked herself again, harder.

Delphi shook her head angrily. "No, it's because they'd already heard you, and you were better."

Her words hung in the air between them. It was true, and they both knew it.

"You're, like, a real singer. You could do opera," Delphi went on, hurt. "How come you didn't tell me?"

"I don't know, I—what do you want me to say? That's my voice."

"Goddamn sopranos," muttered Delphi.

"Well, at least your audition wasn't a complete disaster." Isobel proceeded to tell Delphi how she had behaved in front of the auditioners. "So, you see? I'm not getting a callback, either."

"What makes you think I'm not getting a callback?" Delphi's eyes flashed.

Isobel flapped her arms helplessly. "I didn't mean—"

"Hey!"

Sunil was striding toward them, his leather shoulder bag bulging with sheet music. Clearly, he knew to bring his whole book.

"What? Did they start a waiting list already?" he said, stopping at their grim looks. "I've heard crappy things about this company, so I figured it wouldn't be too crowded."

"If it's not a good gig, why are you here?" Delphi asked.

"Practice. Besides, probably only a lousy outfit like this would consider hiring an Indian to play Noah, even if I am Jewish."

"Very funny," Delphi said.

"No, I'm serious," he said. "I'm Jewish."

"I'm Jewish," snapped Delphi. "I know one when I see one. And you're not."

"You're cranky, that's what you are," Sunil said. "But I really am. There aren't a whole lot of us."

"I didn't know there were Indian Jews," Isobel said.

"We eat really well," Sunil said with a wink.

Delphi looked closer at Sunil, and it seemed to Isobel that she was suddenly considering him in a slightly different light.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be insulting," Delphi said, after a moment.

"Believe me, that barely registered on the insult scale." He looked down the hall. "It doesn't look that crowded. Is it really full?"

"No," said Isobel. "You'll get in."

"What's up with you two, anyway?"

"Nothing," Isobel and Delphi said together.

Sunil raised an eyebrow. "You guys need some acting lessons." He walked over to the monitor.

"He's cute," Isobel said, trying to rescue them from the awkwardness they had created.

"Thanks, Yente," said Delphi. "I noticed."

"I should have sung that other song from Wonderful Town."

"Which one?"

Isobel smiled ruefully. "'One Hundred Easy Ways to Lose a Man.' Only I could have sung 'One Hundred Easy Ways to Lose a Job.'"

Delphi couldn't help but laugh. Isobel held up her hand. "Okay, to enumerate: rule number one, don't piss off the monitor. Rule number two, don't lecture the director."

"Rule number three, tell your friend if you're singing the same song," Delphi added.

"And rule number four, bring all your music," Isobel finished.

Sunil came back. "I just put my name on the list. Shouldn't be too long." He looked from Delphi to Isobel. "You look a little happier. If you wait for me, we can hang out afterwards. There's a flea market downtown I want to check out."

"Really?" Delphi asked.

"Yeah, I love to shop," said Sunil.

"Don't tell me you're gay!" Isobel blurted. Delphi poked her in the ribs, but Sunil just laughed.

"Nope. Two minorities is my limit."

"Well, thanks for the invite, but I'm apartment hunting today," Isobel said.

"You don't have a place?" Delphi asked.

Isobel shook her head. "I'm staying at the Evangeline Residence on Gramercy Park South. You get breakfast and dinner, and there's a rooftop garden and a parlor with a piano. But it's run by Mrs. Danvers, so I have to get out of there.

"Wow, I didn't even know such a thing existed," Delphi said.

"It's not bad. But you have to say good night to your date in the parlor, which I imagine could become a problem after a while. At least I hope so. I pulled a few online listings to check out."

Delphi twirled a stray curl around her finger. "Listen, I know we only just met and we don't really know each other, but I've been staying on my friend Jason's couch, and it's time I moved on, either to another couch or my own place. We could try to find something together."

Isobel thought back to their little disagreement a few moments before. Living with another actor was probably a terrible idea. How could she be an encouraging friend when they were in competition, especially when Delphi's singing left so much to be desired? But Isobel liked her, even if she was a little prickly. And despite any potential conflicts, it had to be better than sharing with a stranger.

"Forget it," Delphi said, when Isobel didn't respond. "I'm sure you have a better—"

"That would be great!"

"Are you sure?" asked Delphi, looking pleased. "I mean, for all you know, I could be an axe murderer."

"No, for all you know, I could be a scissors murderer," returned Isobel. Delphi gave her a look, and she held up her hands in self-defense. "Kidding!"

"I sure as hell hope so," muttered Delphi.