Set the Stage (A Rivervue Community Theatre Romance, #2)

by Daniel De Lorne

  He pulled up in front of the house to find his usual spot occupied by Gabriel’s dusty and dented red hatchback. It was a miracle it still ran; it had been second-hand and already seen a lot of kilometres when he’d bought it seven years earlier. Then again, he probably didn’t need to drive much when he was in Sydney. It would last him the journey back. He was surprised he hadn’t already left.

  He switched off the engine, climbed out of the ute and unloaded his tools. He opened the side gate and dropped everything in neat and easily accessible piles. The fence was another of his creations that he’d installed a few years back. The old one had been falling apart, like other things around the house, but Sofia hadn’t called him to repair all of them. She made do and carried on. But the gazebo … That was where her focus—and her money—was going.

  When he’d accepted the build, he’d given a reasonable price, and had looked forward to the money coming in. But after having to rush her to hospital and considering what kind of medical treatment she might need, that old guilt about asking for payment reared its head and bit him in the neck. He forced himself on.

  People knew what they were paying for when they hired him. He just wished he could value himself a little higher than the bargain‑basement prices he charged.

  He pulled out his workbench and tools, hooked up the bandsaw to the extension cord and began measuring the remaining rafters and cross-slats. He had to keep busy, keep doing the work and get paid where he could, give the money to the bank, save the roof over his head. It should be simple—as simple as building a gazebo or a fence or a table—but it was anything but.

  After half an hour, he was ready to start sawing. Sofia hadn’t appeared but he had to get this finished. Time was pressing. And there was a rehearsal that evening at Rivervue, one of many he had to attend as deputy stage manager, a job where he got none of the glory but all of the work.

  Hamish, the ‘real’ stage manager, was about as useful as a flyscreen on a submarine and took great delight in bossing Bruce around. He only stuck it out because the theatre had always been a place that had been just for him when he was growing up, and he’d liked that they’d recognised his skills. Though these days they’d gone far beyond recognition.

  He put on his safety goggles and his earmuffs and turned on the saw. With the buzz muted, he sliced the wood to pieces, tracing steadily along the pencil line at an angle. Eight beams radiating from the centre with another sixteen thinner pieces for the slats. The pine split like paper. He settled into a rhythm. Some people thought of him as ‘just a labourer’ but he enjoyed what he did. Sofia created fantasies with her drawing and designs, and he created realities with his hands. Over the years she’d made some wonderful designs for the set that he’d been ecstatic about bringing to life. The money had been only a minor factor with the theatre paying him a small amount for his time and materials to build the sets. It was money they could ill afford at the best of times, so he always gave them a good price, and he didn’t charge for everything. The remuneration was just something to show their appreciation. But with the bank’s patience expended, he hoped that whatever Sofia came up with for Larrikin would be quick and simple.

  What if she didn’t get to finish the designs? He stopped sawing. She was seriously ill, and if she had any sense she wouldn’t put her health at risk by spending time coming up with something for Rivervue’s swansong. That was a conversation someone was definitely going to have to have with her.

  Bruce jumped as Gabriel appeared in his eyeline waving his hands. Heart thumping in his ears, he pulled off his earmuffs. ‘How long have you been standing there?’

  ‘Not long. You really can’t hear anything with those on, can you?’ Gabriel wore a black sleeveless tee, exposing ropey arm muscles and tanned skin. Blue jeans hugged his legs. Effortless and ethereal, he was ink in water with the way he moved, the way he not so much stood there but floated. And to top it off he smiled like they were back to being friends. He got points for bravado. He wouldn’t get anything else.

  ‘That’s the idea.’ Bruce bit off the words. ‘And you shouldn’t have been out here without any protection on.’ He flicked on the safety switch and put the saw down on the ground. He jerked his chin at his toolbox. ‘There’s a set over there next time.’

  The faux grin melted. ‘I was kind of hoping there wouldn’t be a next time. When do you think you’ll be finished?’

  He stopped himself from sighing. Keep it professional. ‘I’ve got a few more beams to cut and then I’ll be drilling and painting.’

  ‘Okay. Doesn’t sound like you’ll be making too much noise then. It’s just that Mum’s still in bed.’

  Bruce’s eyebrows knit in the middle and he glanced at his watch. Twelve-twenty. And here he was making all this racket while she was trying to rest. But she’d been adamant about getting the gazebo up. He wanted to give her as much time as possible to enjoy it. ‘How’s she doing?’

  ‘About as well as you’d expect for someone who’s in bed during the middle of the day.’

  ‘Sorry. Dumb question.’

  ‘It’s alright.’ He rubbed his arm. ‘I’m just on edge.’

  ‘I’m surprised you’re still here. Don’t you have to get back to Sydney?’

  He flinched. ‘Mum’s ill. This is where I’m meant to be.’ Gabriel walked past him and examined the gazebo. What was he looking for? Dodgy workmanship?

  ‘She was keen for me to get it finished quickly. Which makes sense considering …’

  Gabriel turned and fixed him with a stare, his gaze steady and possessing. A look that saw more than Bruce wanted it to. Cold and calculating but not without allure. Bruce broke the contact. He didn’t need Gabriel Mora looking into his soul.

  ‘She always wanted one,’ Gabriel said. ‘Dad never allowed her to have one back home, but here she said there was no-one stopping her.’

  ‘Why didn’t she get it sooner?’

  ‘The money, I guess. And then it probably became less important.’

  Bruce’s gut tightened. ‘About the money …’

  ‘How much are you charging?’

  He hesitated.

  ‘As much as that, huh?’ Gabriel said.

  If Bruce’s jaw tightened any further, he’d need a wrench to open it. He’d never overcharged anybody in his life. ‘Fifteen hundred.’

  He scoffed. ‘That all? Is it going to fall down in the next storm?’

  Gabriel’s lack of faith in his ability stabbed him in the gut. He crossed his arms, his muscles bulging. Gabriel’s eyes widened and his lips parted. At least that was some consolation. ‘Nothing I’ve ever built has fallen down, thank you very much.’

  ‘But you’re way undercharging.’

  What was it to him? ‘Want me to double it? I was doing it as a favour for your mother.’

  Not exactly true. He would have charged that for anybody; he was grateful for the work.

  Gabriel held up his hands as he stepped back from the battle. He was flashing that wicked grin, wobbling his head like a pixie about to dance around him. For all the seriousness he projected, Gabriel had always had a cheeky side to him. That and the devastating way he lowered his lashes were two of the things he’d fallen for all those years ago. And still Bruce had landed in Jason’s arms.

  Jason.

  If there was ever a name he never wanted to hear again, it was that one. But now Gabriel was in town, it was going to be floating around for a while.

  Jason Packer, the blond bombshell, and Gabriel became friends soon after Gabriel moved to Brachen. Gabriel had been fifteen, Jason seventeen. Though he’d been attracted to Gabriel, the twelve-year age difference had been enough for Bruce to keep all interactions with him platonic and beyond reproach. A couple years on, Bruce still never tried anything but also he was already going out with Jason—he was still unsure of how that had happened. While Gabriel had always possessed an intensity like a river in flood, Jason had been light, whimsical, a flit. What had he found so appealing about t
hat manipulative twink? Forget blond bombshell, more like peroxide plutonium.

  Gabriel’s fingers disappeared beneath his fringe and stroked the crescent-shaped scar on his right temple. He didn’t let it show often. ‘I guess I’d better leave you to it.’ He walked towards the back door. Whatever Gabriel had really wanted to say sank back down with all his other secrets.

  ‘How are things in Sydney?’ He cringed that he’d spoken but the words leaped out of his mouth before Gabriel got inside. He’d forced himself to never ask Sofia about Gabriel after he left with Jason. He avoided him whenever he came to visit. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to know. He craved it like an addict craved heroin.

  Gabriel stopped. Shrugged. ‘The same. Nothing like here though.’

  ‘Here was never enough for you. Or Jason.’

  ‘I had my reasons for leaving.’

  ‘Like what?’ Perhaps now he’d get the truth out of Gabriel. He’d heard it from Jason: vile and poisoned words, unstoppable, during their last angry goodbye.

  He shrugged again. ‘I needed to study. I needed to find work.’

  You needed to sleep with my boyfriend.

  ‘How’s Jason?’

  Gabriel flinched.

  Gotcha.

  ‘How should I know? We’re not in touch.’

  He scowled. More lies. ‘That’s hard to believe.’

  ‘Why? You of all people should know what an arsehole he is.’

  ‘Yep, found that out the hard way. No thanks to you.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Fire flashed in Gabriel’s eyes and he took a step forward like he was about to attack.

  What was the point in saying more? Gabriel had been able to lie about his secret relationship with Jason with a skill that had sliced Bruce’s heart into ribbons. He’d be sitting down for dinner with the Grim Reaper before Gabriel showed any remorse.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ His tongue tasted of sawdust and ash. He hadn’t wanted to expose himself. He hadn’t wanted to rip open a wound that was supposed to have stitched closed six years ago, but seeing Gabriel was maddening, a violent storm gathering on the horizon that threatened to ruin his day.

  Or his life.

  Gabriel’s nostrils flared. He was good at keeping up the lie. ‘You know what, Bruce, if there’s something you’d like to say to me, it’s better if you just come out and say it.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you, Gabriel.’

  Not anymore.

  He put on his earmuffs and kicked the saw back into action before Gabriel could argue. A coward of the worst kind, Bruce hated himself for feinting an attack yet retreating at the first sign of returned force. But Gabriel did that to him. He didn’t want to argue with the guy. He wanted to do other things but arguing was not one of them. And after all these years of hoping his love for him would go away, he found it was as close as ever to the surface.

  Gabriel stood at the corner of his vision, but Bruce wouldn’t give him attention. He was going to finish the gazebo and get the hell out of there. It was only when Gabriel went inside that he realised he’d cut the beam the wrong way. He was going to be there longer than he thought.

  Chapter Five

  Even if she’d slept most of the day, Gabriel still didn’t want Sofia to go to the theatre. He’d kept his mouth shut while he helped her struggle to get ready for work at The Page Turner, waiting for her to realise that she needed to take the day off. He took no joy in it. He would have preferred her to wake that morning feeling good and heading off to a job she loved. She eventually gave up and returned to bed. When it came time to get ready for the theatre, he figured they’d go through the same process, except he’d offer the helpful suggestion that maybe she shouldn’t go that evening.

  She proved him wrong.

  She showered and dressed, gathered up her sketchbook and pencils in her bag and was ready to go. She steadfastly ignored his look of disbelief while waiting for him to drive her to the theatre.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’

  ‘Mijo, it’s taken me an hour to get ready. If I wasn’t sure, I would have stopped before I’d put my makeup on.’

  He drove her to the theatre.

  The sun was in its decline as they approached, but not yet low enough to douse the theatre in shadows and force the lights to switch on. In this golden hour, the theatre shone, the red of the brick melding with the reflective shine of the amber light. Those windows made the building, they’d have to stay. The terrace on the second floor couldn’t be lost either.

  He swore at himself. He would never, ever, design the redevelopment. A few sketches were as far as he’d get.

  He parked as close to the main entrance as possible, then ran around to help Sofia out of the car. She’d fallen asleep on the short ride. He could take her home and carry her to bed. Or he could just drive for a while, the two of them together. But she roused and pumped out an anaemic smile. He opened the door and she held her manicured hand for him to take and raised herself out of the car. Determined as ever. He couldn’t take her home now.

  With small, shuffling steps, they ascended the ramp to the front door. A slight chill danced off the river at the bottom of the embankment and drew his eye to the swing bridge connecting the theatre to the cafe and the town centre. How many times had he crossed it as a teenager? How many times had he gone back and forth to visit his mother while she worked? How many times was that just an excuse to see Bruce?

  He and Jason were always hanging around, crushing hard on the redhead. Bruce must have known what they were thinking, what they both wanted. He couldn’t ignore it once Jason made his move. He’d only done it because Gabriel had wanted Bruce so much it hurt. And Bruce had fallen for Jason’s precision attack and suffered the consequences. After their argument earlier in the day, the wounds Bruce had inflicted still wept.

  ‘You will stay during the rehearsal, won’t you?’ Sofia pulled Gabriel out of his despondency.

  ‘Of course, where else would I go?’

  If she needed anything, he wanted to be right by her side to get it for her.

  ‘Well, you know Brachen, always something to see and do.’

  He laughed. That was true—some festival, some book signing, some gig—but he’d seen enough Japanese avant-garde pipe music to last him several lifetimes. ‘I’m happy to stay with you.’

  They entered the foyer, its green carpet having seen better days, the wood panelling a cheap relic. Photos from the theatre’s past hung on the walls. He kept his eyes forward as they entered through the theatre doors. Sofia leaned on him as they descended the stairs to the sixth row in the stalls. They were early, despite Sofia’s pace, but as soon as they sat down people entered from the stage and through the doors behind them.

  The director, Lexi, was one of the first, followed by Hamish the stage manager, both locked in a heated exchange until Lexi saw them and stopped. She ignored the still-talking Hamish and hurried down the stairs at the front of the stage to greet Sofia. She tapped her teeth with a French manicured nail. Maybe Lexi’s worry would make Sofia see sense and she could tell her not to come in until she was better.

  She’s going to get better.

  ‘Sofia, dearest, what are you doing here?’ She bent down, took up both her hands and kissed her on each cheek. ‘Bruce said you weren’t well.’

  ‘Just a bit of a turn, but I’m healthy enough to be here. I need to finish these sketches.’

  ‘Are you sure? I don’t want you to get any worse.’

  ‘You know me, Lexi. I feel better just by being here.’

  Lexi chewed her lip.

  Come on, tell her to go home.

  Sofia patted her hand. ‘Honestly, there’s nothing to worry about. I want to see how it’s getting on.’

  ‘If you’re sure …’

  Gabriel stiffened. ‘Is it going to be a long rehearsal, Lexi?’

  ‘Oh, Gabe! Hello, sorry, I didn’t notice you there. I was just so worried about Sofia. How are you doing?’

&nb
sp; ‘I’m fine. The rehearsal?’

  ‘Yes, umm … well that depends on everybody else really, but I shouldn’t think it will last more than three hours.’

  His eyes widened.

  Lexi gave him a small nod and turned back to his mother. ‘But of course, Sofia, if you don’t feel well, promise me you’ll let Gabe take you home. No point in being a hero about it.’

  ‘The only one trying to be a hero is him.’ Sofia squeezed his hand and smiled.

  How much energy did that reassuring smile take?

  ‘Lexi, we were in the middle of a discussion,’ Hamish said behind her.

  Lexi rolled her eyes and gave Gabriel a conspirator’s smile. ‘Absolutely, Hamish, what were we saying?’ She rubbed Gabriel’s arm. ‘Good to see you.’ She walked away with Hamish yapping at her.

  Cast and crew came by to see how Sofia fared. He sat in silence, seeing the love and affection they had for her in this second home. What would she do if it closed? She would survive this illness—no doubt allowed—but if she didn’t have Rivervue when she was better, what would keep her vibrant?

  When they’d moved to Brachen nine years earlier, she was exhausted and terrified, but the theatre gave her purpose, one that didn’t have anything to do with keeping him safe. Gabriel scratched his scar, the only remaining sign of the battle they’d gone through, and the one that had led them here and given him a new life. Rivervue had been her chance for rebirth too.

  And now it might be closing.

  Lexi called everyone together to begin rehearsals. Sandbags weighed heavy on his stomach and no amount of fidgeting could dislodge them. He had no reason to tell Sofia about the work he’d been doing at Y Studio because it wouldn’t go any further. That was in the past and he was all about her healthy future. He slouched deeper into the seat, trying to shift the weight without drawing the attention of those on stage. He wasn’t hiding. No-one here knew. The chairs had always been uncomfortable.