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

by Daniel De Lorne

  Once her work on the show was done, and she was better, they’d turn their attention to the garden.

  ‘I thought we could work on the costume designs out here later,’ he said. ‘The paint should be dry by then.’

  ‘Is that what Bruce said?’ She took his arm and they walked through the garden.

  ‘He didn’t say much of anything.’

  ‘I remember when you two used to be so close.’

  ‘Times change.’

  Or maybe he has.

  ‘I know. And back then I would have been grateful for it but now …’

  ‘Why back then?’

  ‘Well, he was so much older than you.’

  ‘Only twelve years. Dad was fifteen years older than you.’

  ‘I know. But it just felt different somehow. I’m ashamed to say it now. But I worried he was influencing you.’

  He laughed, not because it was funny but because it was ridiculous. ‘I was well and truly influenced before we even came here. That was why we came here, remember?’

  ‘Of course I know. It’s just, it wasn’t rational or anything, and really, looking back, he would have been the best thing for you. And you for Bruce too. Far better than that awful Jason. ¡Cabrón!’

  ‘Mamá!’ His mother didn’t often swear but the description was apt. Gabriel had told Jason about his crush on Bruce when he was sixteen and his supposed friend deliberately set out to snag him. That had hurt a lot yet faced with the choice of losing contact with Bruce, Gabriel had decided to pretend it didn’t bother him. But he couldn’t keep the pretence up for long. When high school finished, he hightailed it for Sydney rather than keep looking at the couple. Having Jason follow him a few weeks after the move had not been part of the plan.

  Jason took advantage of years of friendship and stayed for months. For a little while it had been nice to have someone from home around and there were some laughs. Then they’d got drunk and slept together. Gabriel knew with certainty then that the friendship was over, that Jason had treated him like nothing more than a conquest, to round out the domination that had started when they’d first met. The thing that turned his stomach most was that he felt he’d betrayed Bruce. He’d never told Bruce what had happened. Some secrets didn’t need to be shared.

  ‘But Bruce … maybe he would have been the right choice all along, especially considering how smitten you were.’

  ‘I wasn’t smitten.’

  ‘Mijo, it was obvious. Whenever he was around, you suddenly lost the ability to form complete sentences. How he ever got a conversation out of you, I don’t know.’

  ‘I wasn’t that bad,’ he mumbled. ‘Besides, nothing would have happened with Jason around.’

  ‘And now that he’s not around?’

  ‘Still not going to happen. Bruce doesn’t like me very much these days.’

  ‘Well, you were a bit harsh on him yesterday.’

  ‘He provoked me with his pig-headedness. And considering how talented he is, it annoyed me that he’d want to limit himself to building some two-bit sets that a kid in woodwork could have knocked together in an hour. But you’re right. I apologised to him earlier. Not that it changed his opinion of me.’

  ‘Don’t be too hard on him. I see him running around the town. He’s in such demand but I know he undercharges. Everyone says how cheap he is—which is lovely for them—but it can’t be doing him any good.’

  ‘I know. He said he was only charging you fifteen hundred for this work of art.’ He gestured to the gazebo.

  ‘Criminal, isn’t it? I tried to talk him up but he wouldn’t hear of it.’

  Bruce never wanted people to think he needed the money. That’s what he’d said one night when it was just the two of them, Jason having cancelled at the last minute. They’d been at Bruce’s house, out on the verandah, sitting on the swing seat together. He’d finally gotten over his shyness around Bruce by then and they could talk. After Bruce’s father left to be with his other family in another town, it had fallen to Bruce, his mother Patricia and sister Rachel to pull together, but appearances mattered to Patricia and she wanted no-one to know that they struggled.

  Gabriel hadn’t known what to say so he cuddled up close to Bruce, who’d draped his big arm across his shoulders. The thrill of being so close to Bruce, smelling that manly scent of his—of sawdust and spice—sparked through his body. It surprised him sometime later to realise he’d fallen asleep in Bruce’s lap. He sat up to find his chin was embarrassingly wet with drool, and he was shocked that he’d spent that time there. But how wonderful the feeling had been. Bruce hadn’t seemed to mind, was rather cute about it, but Gabriel knew then that it was going to be too hard to stay in Brachen.

  ‘Bruce was never like that.’

  ‘Did he leave his invoice?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, I’ll transfer the money later.’

  ‘I’ll do it.’

  She frowned and pursed her lips. ‘No, you won’t. It’s my gazebo, I’m paying for it.’

  ‘Mamá, please, let me.’

  ‘You can’t. You’ve still got your apartment in the city and that can’t be cheap. Meanwhile you’re down here looking after me.’

  ‘Think of it as an early birthday present.’

  She tutted and rolled her eyes. ‘Ridiculous. First you won’t let me tell people that you came up with the set designs—’

  ‘But I didn’t. They were your ideas.’ He raised his eyebrows, teasing her.

  ‘Rubbish and you know it. And now you want to pay for something that I’m perfectly capable of paying for myself.’

  ‘It’s a gift. It’s only small.’

  ‘It’s not small. That’s about all the money I had in the world when we left.’

  ‘And now I’m paying it back.’

  She started. ‘Is that what you think? That you need to pay me back for what happened?’

  He wouldn’t answer. Couldn’t.

  She squeezed his arm. ‘Oh, mijo, you have nothing to repay. We left because we had to. Both of us. Your father and his family weren’t what we needed, and they certainly weren’t what we wanted. After the way they treated you, I would have walked away penniless to get you away from them.’

  ‘If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have had to struggle so much.’

  ‘I still would have struggled. Do you remember when I taught you to draw? I did it because it was the only way I could draw without him knowing. I wanted to live through you, to encourage you so you could live out my dream. I’m ashamed of that now, of how weak I was.’

  ‘Don’t be. I love that you taught me.’

  ‘He was cruel, your father, and I’m sorry for not being stronger sooner, for not protecting you.’

  He patted his fringe down so she couldn’t see the scar. ‘I healed.’

  ‘But you shouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. We knew you were different, and I was so frightened for you. I knew you had to get out of that house but I hoped you’d be able to stick it out until you were old enough to leave on your own.’ Her hand fluttered at the base of her throat. ‘But when you came home to tell us why you’d been beaten up at school, I froze. I couldn’t stop him from hitting you and I’m so sorry, Gabriel.’

  He hugged her as she cried. They hadn’t talked about this much over the years. Their lives had been better for it.

  ‘It’s fine, Mamá. I’m fine, and I love you no matter what.’ His father was a distant memory, a cursed one at times, but their lives had been blessed for moving to Brachen. ‘I’m still paying for the gazebo.’

  She sniffed up her tears and laughed a little. ‘If you insist. Thank you.’ She hugged him and her body sagged against his so that he had to support her.

  ‘Are you feeling okay?’

  She gripped his biceps and forced herself to stand. ‘I think I’ll go rest. We can work on the costumes later. When I’m feeling better.’

  ‘Whatever you want, Mamá.’ He helped her back inside and into
bed. She disappeared beneath the covers and her breathing became slow and heavy. It didn’t look like she was in pain but she’d hidden so much from him already, she could probably hide that too.

  He left her to sleep and went out to find Bruce’s bank details. For that moment he’d shared with his mother, he was going to pay double.

  Even then that wasn’t enough.

  Chapter Ten

  By the time Bruce finished the installation of the lights in Warren’s gallery, his stomach had grown impatient. Sustenance absent, it declared its intention to eat itself with loud and prolonged growling that echoed in the sterile space. He swept up his tools, hurried outside and threw them in the back of the ute, then returned to hand over the invoice. But Warren was with a customer so Bruce caught his attention and left it on his desk. He should have put it into his hand, or waited until he was free, because it was all too easy to get missed, but he was starving. And if he had to listen to excuses, he was probably going to bite Warren’s coiffured head off. He’d rather wrap his chops around a ham and salad roll. Maybe two.

  He walked across Main Street, into the small arcade, and stopped outside The Providore’s window. Displayed inside were fresh sandwiches and rolls, made with good meats and cheeses, as well as a lot of fancy desserts that Bruce definitely did not need to eat. The sight of all that bounty revved the rumblings in his stomach to full throttle. He was bending over trying to make up his hunger-clouded mind about what to have when someone tapped his shoulder. His eyes darted to Clarence’s corpulent reflection.

  If there was one person he definitely didn’t want to see while he had a case of the hangries, it was Clarence.

  ‘Salutations, Bruce!’ he boomed. Clarence was one of the loudest members of Brachen’s community. As a singer, his ability to project came in useful, but Bruce always wished for his earmuffs whenever Clarence was in the vicinity. Right now, the tenor’s voice punched his starving stomach.

  ‘Hi, Clarence, how are you?’

  ‘Oh, just fabulous, old boy.’ Never mind that Clarence was about twenty years older than Bruce. ‘I was wondering if you’d be available to install a new bookshelf for me. I’ve had a bit of a move around in my music room and would like to get some of those books off the ground before the mice nibble them out of existence.’

  Bruce knew the ins and outs of Clarence’s music room intimately, having remodelled the damn thing about five times over the years. And every time Clarence was late with payment. He still owed him for the last job three months prior. The money always magically appeared when Bruce showed up for the next job, with Clarence claiming a slip of the mind. With the amount of work Bruce had going on, he was unlikely to be able to fit this job in for some time and by then he’d probably be homeless. He couldn’t wait for Clarence to pay him at his leisure. He could barely afford the sandwiches he was being delayed from buying.

  He swallowed down his bile and hoped that would temporarily placate his stomach.

  ‘Always happy to do work for you, Clarence, but I won’t be able to for a few weeks.’

  ‘Oh, no worries, old boy, just when you get the chance.’ Clarence gave Bruce’s arm a friendly pat and turned to leave, but Bruce couldn’t let him go without addressing the unpaid debt.

  ‘Clarence.’ He coughed, unused to doing this. ‘Do you remember the last job I did for you?’

  ‘How could I forget?’ Clarence pressed his hand to his chest. ‘Those new windows are simply divine and they let the light in beautifully. The way the sun comes into the room now is so inspiring. I can’t help but sing.’

  He bet he couldn’t. A job that most would have charged at least fifteen grand for and he’d gotten it for five. Still, that was Bruce’s fault.

  ‘The thing is you haven’t actually paid me for them yet and until—’

  ‘Are you sure?’ The skin around Clarence’s eyes twitched as he spoke.

  ‘Quite sure.’

  You don’t suddenly forget you’re owed five grand.

  Clarence’s fingers bunched at his pursed lips, wrinkles deepening across his forehead. The hams inside The Providore had nothing on Clarence. ‘I was certain I’d paid it as soon as you’d given me the invoice. You did give me the invoice, didn’t you? Because I always make a habit of paying things on time.’

  All that hot air must have come in handy for singing to the rafters.

  ‘I definitely gave you the invoice.’ Bruce struggled to relax his jaw wide enough to let the words out.

  Clarence’s hand fluttered to his puffed-up cheek. ‘Oh dear, oh dear. You see of course I’d love to pay you right now, and I’ll see what I can do, but I don’t think I have that much in my account at the moment. Things have been a little tight lately. And what was it? Three thousand?’

  ‘Five thousand.’

  ‘As much as that! Well, of course, I’ll go home right now and find the invoice but like I said—’

  ‘Excuse me.’ Gabriel’s voice spoke up from behind Clarence. Bruce hadn’t seen him approach, having been too engaged with Clarence’s contortions.

  Clarence stepped aside and took in Gabriel with a withering look, like the one an actor would give if a phone rang in the audience during their soliloquy. ‘Oh, it’s you, Gabriel. I’d heard you were back in town. How’s your mother doing? Poor dear, I really must go see her and cheer her up.’

  ‘She’s fine.’ Clarence’s insincerity didn’t faze Gabriel. ‘Are you trying to get out of paying Bruce his money?’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Clarence’s eyes widened and his head jutted forward as much as it could on his short neck.

  ‘I couldn’t help but overhear—along with everybody else—that you owe Bruce for work he’s already done.’

  ‘I don’t see how that’s any business of yours,’ Clarence sneered.

  ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t conduct your business out in the open then, but regardless, all I could hear was that Bruce did some work for you and you’re trying to get out of paying.’

  ‘The very nerve to suggest that I don’t pay my bills,’ Clarence’s voice thundered. ‘The insolence.’

  As much as he liked to see Clarence squirm, he couldn’t afford to lose a client. He did not need Gabriel fighting his battles for him. He could do this himself. And the more Gabriel angered Clarence, the less chance he had of getting paid.

  ‘Gabriel, it’s fine.’

  ‘No, it’s not. He’s trying to stiff you out of five thousand dollars.’

  ‘I’m not stiffing anybody!’ Clarence declared.

  Bruce clamped his mouth shut and held back a snort of laughter.

  ‘Then you won’t mind paying Bruce today, will you?’ Gabriel said with crystal-clear diction.

  Clarence blustered, saying all sorts of things to Gabriel as if he were the one who’d demanded the money, and all the while Gabriel kept that still expression on his face, like he’d gone behind a door where nothing and no-one could hurt him. Clarence finished railing and scowled at Gabriel.

  ‘Today, Clarence,’ Gabriel said, unmoved by the performance. ‘You don’t want people to think you can’t pay, do you?’

  Clarence was nothing if not proud of his standing within Brachen. Or the standing he thought he had. Most people thought of him as just another windbag puffed up with his own self-importance.

  Clarence’s eyes narrowed with a malevolence that chilled Bruce’s spine. ‘You’ll have the money posthaste.’

  And there’d be no mention of the bookshelves again.

  ‘Good,’ Gabriel said, that one word like a shove to Clarence’s back.

  He stalked off, and they watched him go.

  ‘You know his real name’s Rodney, don’t you?’ Gabriel turned to him, his lips softening out of their hard line into a confidant’s smile.

  Bruce couldn’t match his levity. Despite his assurances, it would be a miracle if Clarence paid. ‘You really shouldn’t have done that.’ He’d been handling it in his own way. It might have taken a while to get Clarence to agree but he�
�d have got there without upsetting the tenor.

  ‘I was only trying to help.’

  ‘Some help. I don’t need you bullying my clients.’

  Gabriel frowned. ‘If anyone was being bullied, Bruce, it was you. How long has he avoided paying?’

  ‘That’s not the point. That’s not how I like to do things, and now he’ll tell people I’m strongarming him for money.’

  ‘If they believe that then they’re not worth your time and skills.’ Gabriel put his hand on Bruce’s arm. A shiver raced beneath his skin.

  No matter how small, how light Gabriel’s touch was, it shook Bruce to the core. How could he be so kind when he’d been the cause of Jason’s betrayal? He’d never confronted Gabriel over his deception; Jason had been the one to tell him, delivering the parting shot that ripped through his heart. Gabriel and Jason had been sleeping together behind Bruce’s back. When Gabriel left, Jason had followed, revealing that truth. He’d expected it from Jason but not from Gabriel. From that moment he couldn’t trust any of their history. Couldn’t trust Gabriel Mora.

  He stepped back and Gabriel’s hand hovered in the air for a second before dropping. ‘I have to go.’ His appetite had vanished.

  ‘Bruce, I was only trying to help.’

  ‘Go home to your mum, Gabriel. She needs your help more than I do.’ He marched off and jumped in his ute, gunning it down the street and on toward the next job.

  Chapter Eleven

  As expected, the backstage door was propped open with a brick. The faint strains of music wafted out of the dark entrance. Bruce would be inside, working, getting things done. Probably by himself. His ute was the only vehicle in the car park; but the theatre was close to town so one could walk over the suspension bridge to get there. Gabriel hoped there were others around—for Bruce’s sake; not so much for his own. He rubbed his temple and stared into the gloom, before forcing himself in to confront the giant, no matter how much his legs shook climbing the beanstalk.

  He crept around road cases and stacked pieces of flooring. Sixties rock ’n’ roll got louder the further in he went, accompanied by the occasional beat of one hammer. He strained to hear more voices. When Bruce came into view, Gabriel hid in the shadows, waiting for anyone else to appear. He’d rather not have an audience if Bruce told him to get lost.