Inner Diva

by Laurie Larsen

  And his eyes. She couldn’t focus on them now. Not only was he standing in shadows, the distance between them prohibited her from sinking into his eyes. But she remembered them. Memories of the last time she looked into them reminded her of their chocolate brown warmth. Dark, just like the rest of him.

  “I’m done!” Luisa sang, and brandished the page high in the air.

  Monica gasped in surprise, her blood catapulting through her veins. She shook her head to clear it of wayward thoughts. “Great!” she exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically than was necessary. “Want me to check the answers for you?”

  “Sure. But I don’t think I got any wrong.”

  “We’ll see.” Monica was glad for the distraction. As her blood pressure struggled to return to a normal level, he sauntered into the room.

  Monica slowly checked each math problem, giving herself an excuse not to meet his eyes. Could he read her thoughts? Had he watched her study him and could he possibly comprehend where her insane imagination had gone?

  God, she hoped not.

  “Hi, Carlos,” Luisa said.

  Monica stared down at the paper on the table. She felt her cheeks flush and sensed him nearby. She looked up when he bent at the waist to give his sister a kiss on the top of her head. With his lips puckered on her hair, his eyes locked with Monica’s. Her first sensation was validation – his eyes were the exact shade she remembered. She jerked her eyes back to the paper.

  She finished grading the paper, and she pushed it back to Luisa. “Great job. Just take a look at number 12. You may have a problem there.”

  Luisa gasped, examined the problem in question, and then erased vigorously. As the girl carefully reformed her numbers with her pencil, Monica chanced another glance at Carlos. His gaze rested on her.

  “So, it’s your first night with Luisa.” His voice sounded soft, and his tone was grim. A hint of a Hispanic accent seasoned his words.

  “Yes,” she replied, working desperately to calm her pulse and keep her emotions from showing on her face. “Twice a week, and every few weekends.”

  He nodded, his expression guarded. But those intense eyes never left hers for a second. What was he searching for?

  “Luisa showed me her room, and now we’ve started her homework.” He nodded again. “She is very bright.”

  Finally, he turned his gaze to Luisa. The tautness of his face relaxed into affection as she blew eraser dust from her page. He watched her dig another worksheet out of her bag and settle into the new work, pushing a strand of hair behind her right ear.

  He turned back to Monica. “She’s a good girl.” There seemed to be more he wanted to say, but no more words were forthcoming.

  Monica agreed. “Yes, she is.”

  He lingered.

  “Carlos, I want to get to know Luisa so I can make a difference in her life. A positive impact. I don’t want …”

  He held up his hand, halting her sentence midstream. “Excuse me, I have work to do in the garage.” And with that, he left.

  She watched him go, then breathed a sigh of relief. In her estimation, she had won this round.

  The lights extinguished. The stage, formerly fluorescent, now waited in blackness. Monica darted like a sprinter, grabbed the basket of firewood left by an actor in the previous scene, stuck it on a wheeled desk chair, and careened it off stage. Once there, she grabbed a blanket and pillow and ran back onstage, threw them on the couch so Brad could use them in the next scene. Backstage again, she took a deep breath, exhilaration racing through her. Her heart rate returned to normal as the lights went up again and the rehearsal continued.

  She sank into a backstage chair.

  “Nice job.” The muffled voice tickled her ears.

  She smiled. “Thanks,” she whispered. “You promise if I trip and land on my bum, you’ll keep the lights off till I crawl out of sight?”

  A wicked chuckle emerged from the tiny earpieces in the headset she wore. “Hmmm, what’s it worth to you?”

  Monica stood and parted the heavy curtain with her fingers. She peeked out through the tiny slit of illumination and gazed at the lighting booth behind the last row of theater seats, about a hundred yards away. She couldn’t see Steve, but she knew he was back there, running the lights. “To not broadcast my clumsiness to hundreds of theatergoers? Quite a bit.”

  “Sounds like a bit of blackmail is in order.”

  Monica smiled and let the curtain go, her slice of stage no longer visible. It was okay – she had several minutes till the end of this scene before she had to demonstrate her stealth moves again, sprinting out front and straightening up the set in darkness again before the next scene. “What on earth would you have to blackmail me about?”

  A moment of silence indicated he was considering the question, then his response, “I know one of your deepest, darkest secrets.”

  His good-natured tone cushioned the sinister words, and she shuddered. “And what would that be?”

  “Your dream to be an actress.”

  She laughed, then clapped her hand over her mouth and lowered her voice. “That’s hardly blackmail-worthy.”

  “Ahh, but that’s where you’re wrong. I hold the power right here in my index finger.”

  She scoffed into the tiny microphone that ran from the headset to an inch from her mouth. He wouldn’t dare.

  “That’s the finger I use to bathe the stage in revealing light. I could very easily push the lever just a few seconds early. Maybe when you’re on your hands and knees, searching under the couch for a stray pillow?”

  She gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

  An evil chuckle returned. “Maybe not, but I could. Why don’t you remove all doubt by making one little commitment, to buy my trustworthiness?”

  She smirked. “What’s the one little commitment?”

  “Go talk to Dave. Tell him you’re interested in being onstage. You’d be a fantastic actress, I just know it.”

  She sighed. She wanted to visit the theater’s director. She just hadn’t gotten up the courage. She’d wanted to audition for a handful of plays over the years; yet, she stayed backstage, hidden by her props and the security of this heavy curtain. Her desire to act center stage remained. Why, when she was terrified at the prospect of being in the spotlight?

  “Mon?” The tinny voice persisted. “I’m serious. Go for it.”

  “I don’t know …,” she whispered.

  “I do. Do it. Tonight.”

  She sighed again, her insides in turmoil. What was wrong with her? Did she think she didn’t deserve the spotlight? Was she so comfortable helping everyone else look good that she’d resigned herself to a lifetime of lurking in the background?

  No. Inside her was a diva who begged to be released. Steve had faith in her. Why not try it? She’d never know unless she tried.

  “I’ll do it.” Her words were strong and firm. Determined. “I’ll talk to Dave tonight after rehearsal.”

  “Good girl.”

  Her heart pounded. She’d made a decision that could change her life.

  Flashbulbs popped, causing her to blink daintily. Applause followed as she headed toward the auditorium. “Ms. Lampton, could we have a word?” An interviewer planted on the carpet near the doorway held out a microphone. Motion cameras caught every movement.

  “Yes, of course,” she said with a smile and a glance at her escort. He stopped and scanned the crowd while she addressed a few questions from the host of some Hollywood talk show. She answered with gracious responses and then it was time to move on, find her seat and hope beyond hope they called her name for the Best Actress award. Her carefully prepared speech lay folded and tucked into her tiny beaded handbag, although she wouldn’t need it. She was accustomed to memorizing speeches, and this was the most important one of her life ….

  “Mon? Monica?” The voice in her ear became more and more urgent. “Are you there?”

  Monica shook the cobwebs out of her head and looked around. Trina and Brad wer
e bustling backstage, arguing about something. Wait. Trina and Brad were backstage? That meant …

  She darted through the curtain and looked frantically around. What scene change was it? What was she doing? “I’m sorry,” she spoke low, for Steve’s ears only.

  His chuckle eased her nerves. “Daydreaming back there, huh?”

  She nodded in the darkness and grabbed the blanket and pillow. Wasn’t there something else she was supposed to be doing? Oh yeah, she should’ve grabbed the suitcase and brought it out on stage.

  “Give me a second, I forgot something backstage.” She ran through the curtain, grabbed the suitcase and darted back onstage.

  “Only because of our agreement earlier,” Steve said with a chuckle.

  Monica nodded with a frown. If she didn’t realize her dream soon, she’d never get anything done.

  Carlos sat on the couch, his nerves jangling. He held the latest Mechanics Monthly in his lap, his shaky fingers making the slick pages quiver. Irritated, he tossed the magazine aside. Luisa sat at the table across the room and looked up at him, her eyes popping wide.

  “What?” she asked.

  He shook his head. He turned his back to her and hoped she’d go back to what she’d been doing, the busy little thing. She was always doing something productive. Reading, writing. A good student, that one. If she kept it up she’d have no trouble getting through school. Not like him. His struggles through most classes produced passing grades at the end of each semester, but nothing stellar. He was more interested in las senoritas and making discoveries that had nothing to do with a science lab.

  He glanced sideways and caught Luisa out of the corner of his eye. She’d gone back to gripping a pencil, her head down as she concentrated on the paper in front of her. That woman was coming back tonight, to take Luisa out. Mama had approved it, but he had a thing or two to say about it, too. He didn’t want Monica Lampton forming a relationship with Luisa, pure and simple. But his reason had little to do with Monica – not really – and everything to do with him. He and Mama had argued about it several times since Monica had entered their lives. To Carlos, it was so clear, but he couldn’t get Mama to agree.

  They were so much alike – Monica and Angela – at least on the surface. They had similar builds, similar hair. They were both smart and accomplished women. Beautiful, fun-loving women, easy to laugh. They both loved children.

  And they were both gringas.

  Not that he was prejudiced. He’d dated non-Hispanics before. Angela was the first one he’d fallen in love with. He’d never given his heart so completely as he had to Angela. She’d accepted his ring and with it, his life-long responsibility to Mama and Luisa. His happiness was without bounds.

  Until she announced that she was accepting a promotion at work; one that would require her to move to the west coast. “Come with me,” she begged.

  “I have to stay. My family is here,” he replied, feeling his heart crushing inside.

  “Bring them. We’ll raise Luisa as our own. We’ll have other children, too.”

  The temptation was intoxicating. He mulled it over in silence for days. But he knew Papa would not have wanted him to move Mama and Luisa across the country to start a new life. And he couldn’t leave them.

  So, he’d told Angela no. She cried and pleaded with him to reconsider. It about destroyed him to tell Luisa Angela was leaving. They had become very close; attached in a way little girls do with women they looked up to. He passed her bedroom door for weeks after Angela left them, hearing sobs from within.

  In order to forget the happiness he once shared with Angela and his devastation at her departure, he threw himself into his work and family responsibilities. He would never allow harm to come to his family again. They’d had enough heartbreak. Most of all, he’d protect Luisa from more loss if it killed him. First, her papa, then Angela.

  Bastante – enough.

  Monica had done nothing wrong, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t worth the risk. Mama hadn’t listened to reason when he expressed his concerns. So, he couldn’t insist that Monica leave. But he could make life difficult enough for her that she’d leave of her own accord.

  He sighed and laid his head back on the couch, his magazine forgotten. “Luisa?”

  The little girl lifted one index finger at him and continued writing on her paper with the other hand. He smirked and waited.

  “Yes?” She finished, shoved her paper in her backpack and gave him her full attention.

  “Do you ever think about Angela?” He hated bringing up a potentially painful topic, but he had to know where her mind was and if she had noticed the similarities between Angela and Monica.

  “Angela?” She said the name thoughtfully, sampling it on her tongue as if it were a vague memory.

  He nodded.

  “Why? Have you heard from her?” He couldn’t miss the excitement in her voice, which made him want to poke himself for pulling the scab off her emotional wound.

  “No, no, hermanita. I just wonder if you ever think about her anymore.”

  “Not really.” She shook her head and watched him closely. “Why do you ask?”

  He paused. If he fed her too much of his reason he could do inadvertent damage. And that would be the last thing he wanted.

  “Does this Monica ever remind you of Angela?”

  At Monica’s name, Luisa’s face lit into a bright smile. “Not exactly. Monica’s more fun. She likes to do girl stuff. She’s up for anything.”

  “And Angela wasn’t?” He really wanted to understand the distinction she was making.

  “Well, Angela was nice and I loved her. It’s just different. I don’t know.”

  Luisa shrugged and Carlos could tell he would get no more from her on that topic. One thing was clear, though. Being with Monica wasn’t causing Luisa to remember painful memories of Angela. He should feel relieved about that. Not just relieved … happy.

  But did he?

  The chime on the clock sounded, causing a flurry of activity from his little sister. She gazed at the clock, then with a happy smile, she gathered her books and remaining papers and stuffed them into her backpack. She ran her hand over her hair and fairly shivered with anticipation. Noticing him watching her, she shrugged. “It’s six. Monica’s supposed to come at six.”

  A moment later, the doorbell rang and Luisa let out a scream. She jumped out of her chair and raced across the tiny room. At the door, she slowed, took a deep breath and opened it grandly, her face lit with a welcoming smile.

  “Monica!” the girl shrieked and threw herself into the woman’s arms.

  Monica kneeled so she was approximately the same height as Luisa, and administered a solid hug, leaning her head on Luisa’s shoulder. “So good to see you! Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes,” Luisa shouted. He felt like a real heel doing what he needed to do, especially since his hermana so obviously looked forward to her outing with Monica. But that didn’t change the fact he needed to do it. Right now.

  He stood, the movement causing Monica’s eyes to meet his. Her gaze skittered off his face and took a quick glide over his body before she blushed and propelled her eyes back to meet his stare.

  Interesting.

  She patted Luisa’s shoulder, and stood. “Hi, Carlos.” He detected a slight tremble in her voice.

  “Monica.” He walked toward her and observed her teetering confidence take a little more of a hit. “We need to talk.”

  “Do we?” She looked around, then rested her gaze on Luisa, who smiled up at her with open adulation.

  “Hermanita,” Carlos said to Luisa, “I need to talk with Monica for a minute. Go to your room and I’ll call you when we’re done.”

  Luisa gave him a look that looked like she was about to argue.

  He held up one finger. “Un momento,” he said. “Now go.”

  The girl sighed, but trudged to her room. Carlos waited till she was out of sight. “I understand you’re taking Luisa out.”

&
nbsp; Monica nodded. “We’re going to the mall to pick up some school supplies.”

  “School supplies.” This was bad news on a number of levels.

  Luisa stuck her head into the hallway. “Yes, Carlos, I’ve run out of some things I need for school. Monica asked Mama if she could take me. And Mama said yes!”

  “Close that door! Now!”

  A slam convinced him she was no longer eavesdropping. Carlos looked back at Monica. Despite the girl’s enthusiasm, he needed to make sure Monica understood the ground rules. “Will you be driving?”

  Monica stared, as if at first she didn’t understand the question. “Yes,” she said slowly, drawing it out like she was speaking to an idiot. Carlos tightened his lips, a thread of annoyance flitting through him.

  “I want to make sure your car is safe. Not to mention your driving. I don’t want my little sister to go with you unless I know she won’t be hurt.”

  “Okay.” Monica nodded. “That’s reasonable. You’re welcome to inspect my car and I’m happy to tell you I’ve never had a speeding ticket or an accident.”

  He scowled, his forehead creasing with the intensity of his aggravation. He hoped his mood would convince her to forget the whole outing.

  Instead, she said, “Hmm, how about this? In my car I have my insurance statement and it may even show I have an accident-free discount. Would that satisfy you? Or would you like to speak to my agent? I could get you his number.”

  If he’d been trying to intimidate her, she wasn’t having it. Unless he was mistaken, she was ridiculing him with her offers. “No need. Do you plan to pay for my sister’s supplies?”

  The tension on her face – that he’d placed there with his interrogations – softened. “Yes, it’s no problem. I’d like to do it.”

  But even as she said it, he dug in his pocket. No way would he allow this woman to provide for the basic needs of his own family member. He pulled two twenties from his wallet and thrust them at her.