Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set

by Gigi Blume

  “How did Beth take it?”

  “She was understanding. She said she needed a couple of days to decide if she’ll stay on.” In other words, consult her superstar boyfriend on her next move.

  “Now you’ll have to face Will.”

  “Right. I suppose so,” he said on a sigh.

  I slapped his shoulder, shoving him toward Beth. “Well, see ya. I wouldn’t want to be you right now.”

  Will had just arrived to pick Beth up, and I noticed a slight hesitation in Jaxson’s stride. I gathered my things, leaving Elton to woo Harriet with his magical voice and left the Cry Room to put another sticky note on Stella’s computer. At least I had one thing to boast about. I wasn’t about to let Pinky or Jennifer Fairfax ruin my day. A pint of ice cream would make sure of that.

  11

  A Disturbance In The Force

  Jaxson

  Nobody expected Jennifer Fairfax to recover so quickly. Then again, knowing her manager, I shouldn’t have been surprised. He probably flew up to Vancouver himself to make sure Jennifer hobbled her way back to L.A. just so he could get his commission. Sure, Pinky should have noticed the loophole in Jennifer’s contract, but it was my picture and my responsibility to make sure there were no problems. Way to muck it up, Knightly. The expression of disbelief and then heartbreak on Beth’s face was even more reason to feel like a shonky ratbag. Even after I promised to give her the same compensation as previously agreed for a smaller role, her lip quivered—the only sign she would allow to show her disappointment. Will, however, was a different story. His fists clenched at his sides so fiercely, I braced for the impact of his knuckles across my face. But it never came. His silence had much more sting. Beth thanked me and walked out with Will, head high, feigning indifference with her shoulders resolute and strong. I only hoped she would return. I gave her the option to remain in the cast or take the money and run. The choice was hers. And maybe a little bit Will’s. She said she’d think about it.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, I knew the whole situation upset Emma. Hiring Beth was her idea—and it was a good one. Jennifer was a fine addition to the cast, but we would have never known how much better Beth was if Jennifer hadn’t hurt herself skiing.

  There was a pointed disturbance in the cast the following day. In fact, it didn’t take long for the rumours to spread. By the time I arrived at least eight different stories had been whispered amongst the actors—none of them exactly accurate. I needed to explain quickly, before Jennifer made her appearance, the sad truth of the matter.

  Emma’s scowl wasn’t lost on me. She was huddled in a group with some of the ensemble and shot an angry stare at me over her shoulder between whisperings.

  “What are you all grumbling about?” I asked, half-joking, half-suspicious.

  Half of them scattered like mice, the other half-feigned ignorance. But Emma stood up to her full height and raised her chin at me. “We’re planning a mutiny.”

  “Oh, really? Are we pirates now?”

  “Yes. Ever since you made Beth walk the plank.”

  “All right.” I clapped my hands to get everyone’s attention. “No one else is in danger of losing their part. Morale is not very high—especially since we’re still waiting on Frank Churchill.”

  Emma huffed and stomped to the other side of the room. “Ya think?”

  “But I swear to you, Beth’s situation was unique. She was just filling in temporarily.”

  “Ha!” Emma barked. I shot her a warning glare.

  “Please.” I was pleading now. “If any of you have any concerns, I will be happy to go over your contract with you.”

  When no one spoke up, Morris ran his fingers up the keys and started everyone on vocal warm-ups.

  By the time Jennifer entered the studio, most of the actors had cooled their tempers. All except for Emma.

  To make my day even more uncomfortable, she decided, for some unknown reason, today would be a perfect time to bring her mum along to witness my humiliation. The middle-aged woman was hard to read, but I was certain she was secretly planning an epic prank. Last time she visited from England, she hacked into my mobile phone and changed all my contacts’ info to emojis. It took forever to put it to rights. She took one look at Jennifer and left to spend the rest of the day with Stella.

  I made a point to watch Emma while I introduced Jennifer to the room. I’d never seen such a forced smile in my life. In fact, Emma seemed to go out of her way to befriend Jennifer. She even went so far as to offer her my seat—the seat I purposely assigned for myself so I could sit next to Emma. I was forced to spend the rest of rehearsal on the other side of the room. My only consolation was that after today, the tables would be gone, and we’d start some fundamental choreography and some one-on-one scenes. Maybe even a romantic scene. Not that rehearsing a kiss was necessary in workshopping sessions, but I was the director, producer, and lead actor. I could do what I bloody well pleased. We’d spent the past two weeks workshopping the movie, changing scenes and songs around to make it better, finetuning the script and score. All the actors and creatives involved helped shape the version we now had. Not to mention late nights with Elton and Morris poring over pages and pages of music until our eyeballs burned like the Nazis in Indiana Jones. One more table read for Jennifer’s sake and then one week of basic rehearsals. One week before studio executives could see our hard work. One week until Field of Hearts was green lit. Or not. I didn’t even want to entertain that possibility.

  And Frank Churchill? I had to trust he’d show up eventually, as unprofessional as that seemed. If not, there was always Elton. I prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

  Jennifer’s first day was… adequate. She knew her music and was ready with her part, noting all the changes we’d made in her absence. She was quite good. But I noticed Emma wince more than a few times during Jennifer’s solo, plastering on an overly dramatic smile before anyone else noticed, showering her with saccharin-sweet compliments. Was that a tinge of jealousy? If so, it was unfounded and a little cute.

  At the end of the day, as the rehearsal studio cleared, I caught Emma before she left. She hugged Jennifer as though she were her oldest and dearest friend and then frowned as she watched her leave the room.

  “Where on earth did Pinky find this muppet?” she spat as soon as Jennifer was out of earshot.

  “Tell me how you really feel,” I said playfully.

  “Isn’t she that reality television star?” she said, trying to remember the show. “The one with the controversy?”

  “The Real Teens of Belshore High,” I said.

  “Yeah. She was caught shoplifting.”

  “It was selling the answer key to a French test, and they never proved her guilty.”

  “And then the show was cancelled after that,” she continued.

  “Yes, but that’s not the reason.” Where was she going with this?

  “Tell me, Jax. How does one go from juvenile delinquent to featured actor in a major motion picture?”

  “That was years ago,” I said. “She’s been in a couple of indie films, and Pinky thought—”

  “Pinky’s a nutter,” she hissed, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone heard her. “Come on. Let’s talk in Stella’s office.”

  She laced her fingers with mine under the ruse of guiding me out the door, but we both knew I could navigate there myself just fine. That didn’t stop me from squeezing her hand, though. I only wished Stella’s office was further away, so we could walk hand in hand for a while longer.

  Emma sprang open the door with an abrupt thud, still holding my hand. We rushed in so fast, the two occupants of the room jumped and shuffled around as though they were hiding something. Then they both zeroed in on Emma’s hand clasped in mine and raised their brows at us, like we were a couple of randy youths.

  “G’day, Stella… Mrs W.” I nodded my head to the two ladies, laying on my Aussie charm extra thick. A wry smile formed on Stella’s lips.

  “What are you
lot planning?” cried Emma. “I know you’re up to something. I can see it on your faces.”

  She released her grip on me to cross her arms over her chest. She may have been the youngest in the room, but she held her own. I was acutely aware I was outnumbered three to one by these fierce women. Not gonna lie. It was mildly emasculating. I was also greatly missing the soft skin of Emma’s palm clasped in mine. I imagined that was how amputees felt. She was my ghost limb.

  Stella did her best to skirt around the question. “You’ve been keeping yourself busy, poppet.” She waved several yellow sticky notes in the air between her and Emma. “Care to elaborate?”

  Emma shifted on her heels, which I noted were flashier than usual. Come to think of it, there was nothing casual about her choice of clothing. She always looked beautiful, but she seemed to take extra care this morning. I wondered if it had anything to do with Jennifer Fairfax. Or me.

  “You’ll soon find out,” teased Emma, wagging her brows.

  “I wash my hands of this,” I said. “Mrs Woods, would you mind accompanying me to gather my things?”

  She looked between me, Stella, Emma, and then back to me again. Clearly, she wanted to stay and hear the gossip.

  “Welp. I have work to do,” said Stella, waving her arms about. “You lot. On your bikes. Go on.”

  “Even me?” Emma asked with a pout.

  “You stay.”

  Stella pulled Emma further into the room, winking at me as she shut the door. I shrugged and offered Mrs Woods my arm, and we walked in silence to the rehearsal space. At length, she said, “I’m worried about Emma. Is that Harriet girl a good influence?”

  I laughed. “I think you should be more concerned about Emma’s influence over Harriet. But to ease your thoughts… Emma will be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

  She patted her hand on my forearm. “Thank you, Jaxson dear. Remember our little arrangement.”

  “I haven’t forgotten, Mrs Woods.”

  “Good. Are you coming to dinner?”

  “As long as you make your famous flax seed tofu.”

  12

  Road Trip

  Emma

  Harriet missed all the excitement due to a silly sniffle. She had a tiny cold and was perfectly fine to come to rehearsal, but when Mum overheard my phone conversation with her, she forbade me to leave the house until I convinced Harriet to stay home. Then Mum came along with me to make sure I wasn’t exposed to anyone else’s germs. After all, it was flu season and apparently, I was a child. No doubt Mum and Stella were conspiring what to do with the likes of me when I barged in with Jax. I smiled at the thought. Jax… not the conspiring.

  Harriet promised she’d be all better by the weekend, so she could attend Annie’s wedding. That was a relief, because I had grand plans. Weddings are so romantic. What better way to spark the flame between Harriet and Elton that had been building these last couple of weeks? I had a foolproof plan. Harriet needed a ride to San Diego (because hello, clunker car) and Elton had an extra seat. It was almost too easy. One could almost say it was fate—if ‘Fate’ was a movie star and had impeccable taste in shoes.

  Jax cancelled Friday’s rehearsal so all those going to San Diego early could avoid rush-hour traffic down the I-5. I wouldn’t have minded hours of gridlock if it meant we could finish the waltz choreography. One of the most romantic scenes in the movie was the waltz between George, Jaxson’s character, and Penelope—his love interest. It was a flashback in the film and was meant to be a grand, sweeping scene with beautiful gowns, couples dancing all around us, and a show-stopping kiss. If Jaxson’s vision came to fruition, it would go down in cinema history as one of the most epic screen kisses to date. Years from now, it would grace top-ten charts on every entertainment vlog. Professors would talk about it in film schools and criticize every other screen kiss against it. Actors would study it frame by frame to learn proper technique, and graduate students would write their thesis on the expert execution of lip placement, camera angle, and head tilt. Also—if I were being honest—I just wanted an excuse to kiss Jaxson and not feel weird about it. But it would have to wait until Monday; the party van was on its way to pick me up. I contented myself with the consolation I had a wedding to look forward to. Maybe Jax would save a dance for me. Although I had a feeling Achy Breaky Heart was more likely to make the playlist than a waltz.

  I was packed and ready to go—complete with the energy supplement Mum personally placed in my bag—waiting for my ride. My mobile phone pinged so I checked to see if it was Annie texting me that the van had arrived. But the notification was from Harriet instead.

  Harriet: 102 temp. *sick emoji* Tell Annie I’m sorry.

  I didn’t bother texting back, opting to ring her instead. She answered right away, skipping the hello.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, Harriet. Don’t be sorry. You have a fever?”

  Of course, she had a fever. That’s what 102 temperature meant. But what does one say other than get well soon? Mum would prescribe wheatgrass and ginger shots.

  “Yes. It’s the flu, I’m afraid. I just wanted you to know I wouldn’t make it to the wedding after all.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”

  Again, me not knowing what to say. What could I possibly do for her? She just needed rest.

  “No. Thank you, though. You’re so nice to me.”

  Really, I wasn’t. At least I figured I could be nicer… like Jax. One time I was sick, and Jaxson made me tea, sitting up all night with me so I wouldn’t be alone. I was certainly not that level of nice in this situation.

  Instead, I said, “I’m going to be very sad at the wedding thinking about you in bed feeling miserable while I dance the Macarena.”

  “I’ll be better by Monday. I promise.”

  Her nose sounded so stuffy.

  “And Elton. He’ll be so bummed. Did you call to tell him you can’t carpool with him?”

  “No. I was too shy to ask in the first place.”

  “Okay. That’s okay.” It wasn’t okay she was so shy, but she didn’t need a lecture from me now. “I’ll break the news to him myself, then.”

  Silence.

  “Harriet? Are you there?”

  She chuckled through what could only be described as a phlegmy throat and went into a coughing fit.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she said at length. “I forgot you can’t see me, and I just nodded at you like a dummy.”

  “I do that all the time.”

  Silence again. She was probably nodding at that, too.

  “Well, you get some rest, and I’ll see you on Monday or Tuesday. No rush.”

  We hung up, and I felt a pang of disappointment. It was nothing, of course, compared to how Elton would feel about Harriet’s absence—the concern for her health that would weigh on him the entire weekend. Not to mention the disillusioned hope to dance with her—and if the stars aligned—catch the garter after she caught the bouquet. Oh! It was all sixes and sevens.

  The van arrived minutes later, and I greeted Annie at the front door with my best smile. I wouldn’t let my feelings ruin her wedding weekend. She bit her lip with a concerned look and hugged me tentatively.

  “What?”

  “We… have an extra passenger,” she said.

  “Oh.” I shrugged. “That’s cool.”

  Was she worried I’d mind or something? This was her wedding, after all, not mine (heaven forbid). Did she think squeezing in and getting close and friendly with her bridesmaids would make me uncomfortable? It sounded like fun.

  “Who is it?” I asked, secretly hoping it was Beth.

  “You’ll see.”

  After tossing my bag in the boot, she opened the sliding door to the van and introduced me to her friends—names my preoccupied brain couldn’t remember if I tried. I smiled and said hello, climbing in and trying to adjust my vision to the darkened interior. A group of friendly faces greeted me—all the ladies
a study in retro pin-ups—and then my gaze travelled to the only open seat. Right next to Elton Wardlow. He beamed and waved excitedly.

  “Elton. What are you doing here?”

  To say it was a shock would be the understatement of the year.

  “There wasn’t room in Randall’s car because of all the ice chests,” said Annie, strapping herself into the front passenger seat. “They’re planning a tailgate party tonight.”

  What? Elton just met Randall. “Are you a groomsman?”

  A soft chuckle escaped Elton’s lips. “No. I’m just not good at driving long distances. I feel safer with a group.”

  “Well, at least I’m glad you’re not a bridesmaid. You’d look hideous in the dress.”

  It wasn’t meant as a joke, yet the ladies all laughed. Frankly, I was a little put out by his presence. I was looking forward to girl time—whatever that might be. I imagined it would involve lots of gossip and griping about their boyfriends—or other female things one doesn’t discuss in front of men.

  If the ladies wanted to chatter about their periods, joke’s on Elton.

  The long drive to San Diego was just as promised—a party on wheels. Music blasted, snacks were passed around, and all my new gal pals sang at the top of their lungs. At one point, Annie rolled down her window and did that wavy arm thing in the wind. It was especially iconic with all her tattoos and bracelets.

  I was stuck with Mr Chatty in another zip code. For a guy who I thought was the quiet artsy type, he sure talked about himself a lot. His experience on Broadway seemed to be his favourite topic right next to his Tony Award and all the buckets of money he made. What was he trying to prove? I already knew he was good enough for Harriet. He didn’t have to sell me on that. I decided it was as good a time as any to tell him the bad news. I wasn’t sure how he’d take it, so I laid down the facts gently and hoped for the best. She had the flu. But she’d live. I even frowned on his behalf for good measure. Like really frowned big time. Like a mime. He gave me a blank look at first—probably trying to process what I said—and then mirrored my expression, knitting his brows together with the deepest concern.