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

by Daniel De Lorne

  He searched Sofia’s face for any disappointment, but her smile and her eyes stayed happy. How much pain was she hiding?

  ‘As if you ever would,’ Angela said. ‘When you’re better, we should talk. You’re wasted in that bookshop. You should be in fashion. I bet you have lots of ideas fermenting.’

  ‘That’s very nice of you, Angela, but the truth is—’ She got in low and quiet.

  She can’t.

  He rushed in. ‘The truth is Mum needs to focus on her health right now.’

  ‘Of course,’ Angela said. ‘We’ll chat once you’re better. Well, I’d better get cracking with the sewing. Magda’s out there champing at the bit to get started. There are only so many buttons for her to sew on in the meantime.’

  ‘Could I join you?’ Sofia asked.

  ‘Of course, darling. Come with me.’

  Gabriel shot out of his seat. ‘Mamá, don’t you think we should head home?’

  Sofia struggled to stand but managed with sheer will and a little support from Angela. ‘I’m fine, mijo. This is where I want to be. It’ll do me good.’

  ‘Would you like me to help you?’ he asked.

  ‘No, Angela will give me an arm to lean on, won’t you dear?’

  ‘Anything for you, darling.’ Angela and Sofia linked arms.

  ‘You see? Nothing to worry about. Why don’t you go find Bruce and help him with the sets?’ She winked at him but he couldn’t share in her levity. The blood drained to his feet and forced him to sit.

  Sofia and Angela made their slow way up the aisle while a bony fist wrapped around his heart. They’d agreed she wouldn’t tell anyone that he’d come up with some of the designs, but Sofia had looked ready to spill their secret. If he weren’t around, would she do it anyway?

  He’d be lying if Angela’s words hadn’t sparked a little flare of possibility. Did she really see so much potential? Had he wasted his time becoming an architect? If he’d stayed and followed his dream, he would have been around when his mother got sick. He could have helped sooner. But staying hadn’t been an option and revealing the truth about how they’d worked together wasn’t either. His mother had to get the credit for the work on the play and his sole focus needed to be looking after her. But she’d effectively dismissed him and given him permission to go find Bruce.

  He wouldn’t let fear of the future get to him. He’d focus on the good, on how much they’d loved the designs, on how Lexi and Angela felt about Sofia’s work, and that she’d succeeded in delivering on her Rivervue legacy. He chose to feel happy, just for the next few hours while they were inside the theatre’s walls where Sofia shone.

  After all, the place was all about make-believe.

  ***

  Bruce assigned Gabriel to Jeanie and Mike before his duties as stage manager took him away—Lexi had called him to her side to assist during the rehearsals onstage. Luckily, working with the siblings squashed Gabriel’s disappointment as he soon found himself enjoying their company while they put coloured cells over the lights. They both had excellent stories, which they willingly shared in embellished fashion, and Gabriel had to stifle his laughter too many times to count, fearing he’d disturb the actors on the other side of the curtain. Having such a good time they missed Lexi calling an end to rehearsals, and Bruce had to come break up the party. At least they’d finished the task he’d set them.

  Jeanie and Mike said their goodbyes with a promise to catch up for coffee during the week and hurried out of the theatre, leaving him behind with Bruce.

  ‘Looks like you guys had fun.’ Bruce helped Gabriel put away the leftover cells in the electrical cupboard.

  ‘You know? I really did.’ It had been a long time since he’d had any fun; even in Sydney life had become a grind. He had two housemates he barely saw and the carefree gay life that he’d expected to have in the city hadn’t worked out. Making true friends had been hard. Everything was so rushed and so intense that he couldn’t relax. Not that he’d been free of tension in Brachen but being away from the buzz and distraction of Sydney had allowed him to see what mattered.

  And what he’d missed.

  ‘Will you be staying around much longer?’ Gabriel asked when they’d stacked the last pieces of equipment.

  ‘Yeah, I’ve got to keep working on the sets. How about you? What are your plans for tonight?’

  ‘Nothing really. I’ll take Mum home and that’ll be it.’ His watch read a little after nine, and he chewed his lip. ‘We should probably get going. I hope Mum hasn’t exhausted herself.’

  ‘Last I heard there was a lot of laughter coming from wardrobe.’

  That was good, right? But his worries held a tight grip on letting any happiness flow. She’d been so tired lately, worn out from over a week of chemo and barely able to keep food down. At least now they were done with the designs, she wouldn’t feel the need to come to the theatre so often.

  ‘I’ll walk with you, if you like?’ Bruce said.

  Gabriel blinked out of his thoughts. How long had he stood there staring at nothing?

  ‘I’d like that.’ The walk would only take a minute but he’d take ten seconds with Bruce if it meant they were together.

  They walked in silence, which only made the sounds of laughter more noticeable the closer they got to wardrobe. Inside Angela, Sofia and Magda sat in a circle whooping with joy, Sofia’s cheeks wet with tears. Reams of fabric covered the large cutting table, while clothes had been pulled out and put on separate racks for the actors, the beginnings of their creation going from vision to reality, but that paled next to Sofia’s happiness. He and Bruce exchanged amused glances before Angela noticed them and wiped her eyes.

  ‘Gabriel, your mother is wicked, I hope you know that.’

  ‘Oh, shush. Don’t listen to them, mijo.’

  They regained their composures but it would take a while for the redness to fade from their cheeks. Gabriel hoped the smiles would stay forever.

  ‘Is rehearsal over, Bruce?’ Angela asked.

  ‘Afraid so but don’t let me break up the party.’

  Magda rose to her feet. ‘Unfortunately I’ve got to get home to my Brian.’

  ‘And we should probably go too, right Mamá?’

  ‘Angela’s offered to give me a lift if you’d like to stay.’ Her eyes were full of calculating mischief.

  ‘That’s right,’ her co-conspirator said. ‘I’d be happy to. More chance for us to talk about you.’ Angela laughed and Sofia snorted.

  Gabriel’s face flushed. What had Sofia been telling them?

  He was about to say he was fine to go home but Sofia jumped in.

  ‘Bruce, you’ll be staying around a bit longer, won’t you?’

  ‘Uhhh, yeah. Building the next set.’

  ‘Wonderful. Gabriel can stay and help.’

  ‘That would be great, but only if he wants to.’ Bruce turned to him. ‘Only if you want to.’

  He opened his mouth to say no but Bruce’s soft smile on his pale strawberry lips had him nodding like one of those bobble-headed toy dogs.

  Sofia tittered. He glared at her and she faked a cough. ‘Sorry, excuse me.’ She struggled to her feet.

  Gabriel rushed to help her stand. He really should be the one to take her home. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?’

  ‘Absolutely, mijo. You stay and enjoy yourself.’ She patted him on the arm. ‘Right, Angela, let’s get going.’

  Angela took his mother by the arm with Magda on the other side, and the three women walked out, continuing their chatter. She might be getting frailer but her friends’ company bolstered her. She’d be fine.

  That had become his mantra. She’d be fine.

  ‘It’s good to see her looking so happy,’ Bruce said once they were alone.

  ‘She deserves it.’ He flicked through the clothes on the racks. His mother had spent a lot of time there over the years. He had too, studying the clothes, watching the seamstresses measuring the actors, sewing. He’d
learned the basics but hadn’t gone further, busy as he was running around with Jason, mooning over Bruce. It had been easier to draw his designs than turn them into wearable clothes, which would be a necessity if he were ever to become a designer. Unlike architecture, which had allowed him to see his ideas come to life without getting his hands dirty.

  ‘You deserve to be happy too,’ Bruce said.

  The words stopped Gabriel mid-shunt between a red velvet evening gown and a midnight-blue lace dress. How could he be happy when she was sick? How could he be happy when Bruce and he were only friends?

  ‘Her happiness is more important at the moment. That and her health.’

  ‘If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you. I know what it’s like to take care of a parent.’

  He turned around. ‘Thank you, Bruce.’

  The giant smiled and raised his arm to massage the back of his neck, flexing his bicep and tensing Gabriel’s stomach. ‘I suppose we’d better get to work.’ Bruce shifted under Gabriel’s insistent gaze and walked to the door.

  He shook his head. He had to get control of himself. Better to keep hold of the fantasy than be wrecked by reality. They were friends, always had been, always would be. He had too many secrets for Bruce.

  Bruce waited for him to exit the room then switched off the lights and closed the door. They passed a few of the cast and crew as they went down the corridor: Kenzie with a guy and his dog, Lexi who was going home for the night. Bruce then locked up and within ten minutes the theatre was silent and empty except for the two of them. Gabriel wished they were on his verandah looking at the stars, but they had a job to do.

  Set number two. Probably the easiest of the three. Bruce wanted them to work on the stage where there was more room to move. It had the added bonus of Gabriel being able to see how and if the sets would work in the space.

  Bruce handed him one of his grey work shirts made of thick fabric. ‘Here, you’ll ruin your fancy shirt otherwise.’

  Gabriel wore a blue linen shirt with small white squares on it. He’d bought it second-hand two years earlier. True, it wasn’t exactly work attire but he’d hardly call it fancy. What did Bruce have against fancy anyway?

  He took the offered shirt and shoved it between his legs while he undid his buttons, slow at first, watching Bruce’s eyes on his hands, on his bare skin. But Bruce looked away, went to pull out some tools in preparation for the work they were doing, and Gabriel felt silly. He quickly changed.

  Bruce’s shirt was made for his height and bigger build and it completely enveloped Gabriel in fabric. He rolled the sleeves and tucked the tails inside his jeans. The chest billowed so he pinned it at the back as well as he could then looked down at himself to assess how well he’d done at making it fit. There was no doubt he was wearing a shirt four sizes too big.

  Bruce chuckled.

  ‘What?’ Gabriel said.

  ‘You’re not going down a catwalk.’

  ‘Thank God because I’d probably trip over. You really are a beast, you know that?’

  Bruce brought his arms down in front of his body, flexed and gave a kittenish roar that made Gabriel burst out laughing. If there were anyone less threatening in this world, Gabriel had yet to meet them. Bruce’s bottom lip quivered and his eyes opened wide to full puppy dog, which only made Gabriel laugh harder.

  Bruce’s face shone with the strength of his smile. ‘Come on, let’s do this.’

  It was a small moment but one that had been so easy. There was no unhappy past to haunt them and they were now something different from what they had been. Both older, both having had time apart, both equals. That allowed him to see Bruce differently, to appreciate fully how generous he was, how much integrity he had, and how those broad shoulders of his could bear so much weight but his heart … It wasn’t weak, never that, but it was fragile and vulnerable. Bruce deserved someone who’d treat it with the care it needed to make it strong.

  Could he have ever been that person?

  Bruce directed him as he needed, and he followed the instructions without complaint, but within twenty minutes he was sweating from the heavy lifting. Bruce, however, never showed any sign of exhaustion. How many hours had he already worked today? Where did he get the endurance? Gabriel recognised Bruce’s singular focus for doing what he loved, but there must have been something else behind it, the drive to keep going. He was precise and thorough without flagging. A few cuts here and there, skill that was more than talent yet more than experience. Gabriel could only look on.

  Well, not exactly look.

  More like ogle.

  Bruce lengthened and leaned and lifted, muscles bulging as he set about his trade, a sheen of sweat coating his skin. Gabriel struggled to focus on what he was meant to be doing, even more so because if he distracted Bruce, he’d draw attention to how much Gabriel devoured him with his eyes. Becoming friends again with Bruce was like being let back into the candy store but not being allowed to buy anything.

  Not even a taste.

  ‘You alright there?’ Bruce said without looking up. ‘You’re wobbling.’

  No, he most definitely was not alright. This was torture.

  ‘Yeah. Fine. Sorry.’

  Bruce tilted his head. He was practically lying across the piece of wood, bent at the waist, his round solid arse jutting out … Gabriel parted his dry lips. The whole thing was too much.

  ‘Maybe we should take a break,’ Bruce said.

  Yes, please. He shrugged. ‘If you want.’

  Bruce straightened and stretched his back. ‘Yeah, I want. Grab a seat and I’ll get us a couple of drinks.’

  Downtime with Bruce. Nothing unusual about that. They’d done it before. And he was thirsty. It wasn’t like they’d be getting drunk together because Bruce didn’t drink. They’d cool down, he’d wet the desert in his mouth, and they’d get back to it.

  But water wouldn’t quench all of Gabriel’s thirst.

  He sat on the edge of the stage looking out at the empty stalls. To think that it could all be turned into apartments, perhaps with a theatre room—oh, the cruel irony—or some other communal space. All this—the seats, the lighting, the ornate ceiling—all gutted and thrown away for the wealthy to have a three by two, driving their four by fours, and escaping the nine to five. It didn’t add up to much.

  Bruce returned, dropped next to him, and held out a bottle of sparkling water. Their legs touched and Gabriel’s blood fizzed.

  ‘Water okay?’

  He nodded. Bruce’s timber-and-varnish scent entered Gabriel’s nose, coated his tongue and caressed its way into Gabriel’s body. Once in, it gripped his throat as surely as if Bruce held him by the neck, fingers pressing into his skin, the shock and the pleasure shooting down his torso into the bottom of his gut and lower … lower … He almost moaned, but his teeth clamped down painfully on his lip to stop it before he doused his need with a long drink of cold water.

  ‘It’s like when we used to sit on my verandah some nights,’ Bruce said.

  Gabriel choked and spluttered. Bruce’s hand landed quick on Gabriel’s back and pounded until Gabriel held up his hand for him to stop. Throat cleared, Bruce’s hand lingered, skin tingling beneath its heat and heaviness.

  What had they been talking about? The verandah.

  ‘I was thinking that myself earlier, except we don’t have the stars tonight.’

  ‘Not even the stars of Rivervue theatre,’ Bruce said in a big voice, his hand arcing across the space in front of him like he was lighting up a marquee.

  ‘I always preferred it when it was just us,’ he said in a soft voice, his thumb tapping the top of the bottle. Alcohol had nothing on weakening his resolve; all he had to do was be in Bruce’s presence. The only way to stop his feelings from coming out, from making their way over the wall, was to speak quietly in the hope that Bruce didn’t hear.

  But Bruce had always heard him.

  ‘Me too.’ He took a drink. ‘One of my best memories of being in th
at house.’

  ‘Come off it.’ He nudged the redhead.

  ‘It’s true. No shouting, no screaming, no fighting of any kind. Just you and me.’

  It wasn’t just Jason who had brought trouble. Bruce’s father had run off, his mother had quietly become an alcoholic as a way of coping, and his sister Rachel had become one as well, only not so quietly. Bruce had kept everything together as much as possible. Those hands of his could build anything, but some things were beyond repair.

  ‘I’m sorry you’ve had it so tough.’

  ‘Nah, don’t be.’ He touched his head to Gabriel’s. ‘I prefer to focus on the good anyway.’ He sighed. ‘I almost lost the house, actually.’ Bruce drank, like the taste of saying something so personal was off.

  Gabriel had noticed long ago that Bruce rarely told people about his troubles, preferring everyone to think all was well. It was always an honour whenever Bruce shared the things others never got to see.

  ‘How?’

  ‘Couldn’t pay the mortgage.’ Another drink.

  ‘You’ve still got a mortgage on it?’

  ‘I took one out about a year ago to pay Rachel for her half. I would have been alright if I hadn’t broken my arm and lost a lot of work. Then the debts started mounting.’

  ‘You broke your arm?’

  Bruce held up the right one and traced his finger across the middle of his forearm. ‘You can’t see anything. It healed fine but put me out of action for weeks.’ His let his arm fall.

  Gabriel wanted to touch the place where the break had been, run his thumb over it and make sure Bruce had healed. But it was best to keep his hands to himself.

  ‘I’m sorry that things had gotten so bad.’

  ‘It all worked out in the end, thanks to you.’

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘That money from Clarence, and from you, put me back on track. And since then things have been looking good with my finances. Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome. Maybe I can come by sometime and sit on the verandah again.’

  ‘I’d like that.’ Bruce looked at him, his head lowering close to him. ‘I’d like that a lot.’