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

by Daniel De Lorne

  ‘Now, I know it’s not exactly what Sofia wanted,’ Angela said.

  ‘It’s nothing like what Sofia wanted.’ Nails dug into his palms and his fists had slipped down to beside his body.

  Bruce placed his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

  Angela’s eyes flicked from Bruce to him and her fingers played with the necklace hanging on her chest. ‘Gabriel, the problem is we just don’t have the time.’

  ‘Everyone keeps saying that but considering how much Mum has put into this theatre over the years I would have thought that it would be the least anyone could do.’

  ‘Gabe, come on,’ Bruce said. ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘It’s not okay. This is not what we agreed to.’

  Angela brought her hands together in front of her body and interlocked her fingers. ‘I understand you’re upset with everything that’s going on with your mother, and believe me, Gabe, I would love to do what she suggested, but I’m certain we can deliver Sofia’s vision by being more efficient with our time. We’re all raw about the theatre possibly closing, and your mother’s illness, and we want this to be the best it can but we have to focus our efforts.’

  What did it matter if they made some changes? That was their right and it was just some community theatre. But if they weren’t making the costumes that he’d designed, then he’d gotten it wrong. He was meant to help Sofia finish at Rivervue with a success, but instead he’d failed her yet again.

  ‘Do you mind if I talk to Mum about it first?’ he said softly, chips of ice in his voice.

  ‘Of course. Better yet, how about I come by on Friday and show her? It’ll give you a break.’

  ‘I don’t need a break!’

  She started back. ‘Gabriel, I know this is a tough time for you, and we’re all gutted about Sofia, but—’

  Blood rushed his ears but it wouldn’t be enough to deafen him to her excuses. ‘She’s fine. She’s going to be fine. She just doesn’t need this stress.’

  ‘I understand. But I’ll come by anyway and if you’re there, great, if not, that’s fine too. You can’t look after anyone if you’re not looking after yourself. Sofia wouldn’t want you to be upset. Okay?’

  He swallowed the rage and hurt. He wanted to tell them all to go to hell with their designs and their decisions and their damn theatre. The sooner it got turned into apartments, the better, then maybe his mother wouldn’t be so ill.

  ‘Fine. See you Friday.’ He hurried out of wardrobe, shame dogging his heels.

  Bruce chased after him. ‘Gabe, stop.’

  He spun. ‘I can’t do this now, Bruce. I need to get back to Mum.’

  ‘Don’t use her as an excuse.’

  Bruce’s accusation stopped him so fast he juddered. ‘What? I’m not.’

  Bruce took his hand. ‘Take a deep breath. You’re upset. Going home like this won’t help your mum.’

  ‘At least there I can’t make things worse.’ All that work he’d done and it wasn’t what they wanted at all. He’d made Sofia look a fool.

  ‘You’re doing fine. Everyone understands.’

  ‘I don’t want understanding. I just want them to do what Mum came up with.’

  ‘I know. But they have to do what they think is right for the production. Sofia will understand.’

  Understand that this was yet another thing she’d sacrificed for him. Another piece of herself lost to poisoned touch.

  ‘I’m scared, Bruce. What if she doesn’t get better? This week’s been awful, and I keep thinking that we’ll get through it and she’ll get out the other side and be healthy again, but I don’t think it’s happening. She won’t let me into the oncologist’s appointment with her. She won’t tell me what’s going on. I wouldn’t have known she was sick if you hadn’t called me.’

  Somewhere in that outpouring, Bruce’s arms had folded around him and stopped the tears from breaking free. ‘Shhhh, it’s okay. Just take a breath.’

  He didn’t want to because that would mean letting Bruce in even more and he couldn’t relax. If he let the truth slip out, he’d lose Bruce and right now he was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. He shouldn’t have kissed him. They could have stayed friends and that would have been easier.

  Bruce kissed him and smoothed back his hair. He melted under Bruce’s affection.

  ‘How about you take tomorrow night off as well? Come to mine for dinner. We can sit on the verandah and watch the stars and it can be like it used to be.’

  That sounded so good. But could he do it? Didn’t Mum need him? But she had continuously told him he needed to get out of the house more often. She said she had friends she could call on, and it would only be for a few hours.

  ‘Only if it’s alright with Mum.’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll agree.’ Bruce kissed him again and silenced his worries. If only it could last forever.

  ‘Oi! Bruce!’ Sam shouted.

  Bruce groaned and broke the kiss. ‘What is it?’

  She didn’t seem fazed that she’d interrupted them. Clasping a clipboard to her chest, she looked like an extremely efficient PA, one who never blinked, even in the face of the weirdest things.

  ‘I can see you’re really busy but Lexi’s calling for you and the second set is finished. Are you coming?’

  Bruce sighed and whispered to him: ‘Tomorrow, my place, 7 pm. You’d better be there.’

  ‘Or?’

  ‘Or I come get you and carry you away over my shoulder.’ His voice rumbled against Gabriel’s ear.

  ‘That sounds appealing.’

  Bruce smiled and pecked him on the cheek before letting him go. ‘Right, Sam. Let’s get on with it.’ He then walked away.

  Gabriel had had enough of the theatre for one night. He’d have to apologise to Angela and Magda for his behaviour but he was still too raw. He walked outside and into town to find somewhere to have a drink.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bruce opened the oven door for the third time since putting the chicken pie inside fifteen minutes before. He wanted to catch the moment when the flaky pastry was golden rather than charred. He should have gone with a couple of steaks and a salad. That he knew he could cook. Or he should have got a takeaway. Giorgio’s did a wicked spaghetti alla puttanesca. He could have saved himself the stress and the time. Strange that he could knock up a chest of drawers in an afternoon but that pie had taken him way longer than the cookbook’s stated preparation time of twenty minutes. Luckily, he’d had the good sense to buy a fruit tart from The Providore for dessert.

  He’d spent much of the day tidying, pushing aside a job he’d been asked to do in favour of making his house look like a person lived there rather than a pack of angry pigs. He wasn’t intentionally messy and he wasn’t a hoarder, but with no-one visiting to keep it neat for—and no time—the house had gotten cluttered. He’d given the bathroom and the bedroom a thorough clean and made the living room, kitchen and dining room presentable. And then he’d focused on the verandah. The clouds hadn’t shifted but it was going to be a warm night so they could eat at the table outside. He’d dusted down the swing and oiled the hinges.

  After another five minutes, the pastry turned golden and he turned off the heat. He was ready with fifteen minutes to spare.

  A knock on the door disturbed the butterflies he’d been trying to pin down all day. Distracting himself with housework had helped but with Gabe’s arrival, they swarmed and he was all out of nets. Gabe was early. Hopefully that meant everything was okay. He checked his hair in the mirror and opened the door.

  Only it wasn’t Gabe.

  One side of Rachel’s mouth lifted into a smile like a stroke had paralysed the other side. Her blonde and brown streaked hair hung in thick strands. She’d lost weight—more weight—and her hip bones protruded over the top of her jeans, a black T-shirt stuck to her concave stomach. She gripped the handle of her backpack in one hand as it sat limp on the floor.

  ‘What do you want?’ Bruce said, hi
s voice flat and stony.

  ‘Hey, bro,’ she drawled as if they were friends. She didn’t make to hug him.

  ‘Again, what do you want?’

  ‘Jeez, you’re such a grouch. Can I come in?’ She tried to enter.

  ‘No.’ He blocked the way.

  She stumbled back and reared up, stumbled again. ‘What do you mean? I just want to come in for a bit.’

  ‘You don’t live here anymore, Rachel. This isn’t your house.’

  ‘I’m still your sister.’

  ‘Still doesn’t mean you’re coming inside.’

  She scowled and charged him, pushing and screeching to be let in. She punched and kicked. He could withstand a lot of abuse from her but the chances of her going quietly after her tantrum were about as slim as she was. If she came in for five minutes, he could calm her down then get rid of her. The stink of alcohol and her own filth rubbed off on him. He’d have to change before Gabe arrived.

  ‘Fine,’ he shouted, loud enough for her to stop. ‘You can come in for five minutes. But you cause any problems and you won’t even get that.’

  He stood aside for her to enter then closed the door behind her. She weaved her way inside, dumping her bag in the middle of the floor and circled around to the living room. When she stopped walking, her body swayed.

  ‘See you had a tidy. Got company coming?’ She tried to wink but failed.

  ‘Yes, and I want you gone before he gets here.’

  ‘Glad to see big bro is finally getting some.’

  He folded his arms across his chest. He wouldn’t talk to her about Gabe. He didn’t want to talk to her at all.

  ‘Why are you here, Rachel?’

  ‘I missed you,’ she simpered. ‘I wanted to see you.’

  ‘Wrong answer.’

  She sneered at him. ‘You always were an arsehole, Bruce. Have you got anything to drink?’

  ‘You know I don’t drink.’

  ‘Such a good boy. Luckily I brought my own.’ She dived into her backpack and pulled out a bottle of bourbon, her favourite only so far as that was the one she bought herself. She hadn’t been picky about what went down her throat if someone else was buying.

  ‘You’re not drinking in here.’

  ‘I’ll do whatever I want.’

  ‘It’s not your house anymore.’ He tried to keep his voice level, was surprised how even it was. ‘If you drink, I’m calling the cops and having you booted for trespassing.’

  ‘You wouldn’t do that to your own sister.’

  ‘Let’s not see what I’d do.’ He stayed where he was against the wall while she scoped the place. She tutted at the family photos he’d hung on the wall. He’d kept a few photos of her—from when they were kids—and pencil lines still marked the hallway doorframe where they used to measure their heights. The lines ended when he was fifteen and she was twelve. Any other sign of the person she’d become or evidence of their unhappy family life had been removed. He didn’t want any visual reminders in his house—and that included her.

  ‘Why are you here?’

  She finally stopped casing and leaned against the kitchen counter, teetering on the edge. She got that look in her eye, the one a dog got when it wanted to be let back inside after tearing up the cushions.

  ‘And don’t say it’s to see me,’ he interjected. ‘You haven’t been in touch since you got your money.’

  Before that it had been some years. She hadn’t come home for their mother’s funeral either. At first he’d been glad after she swept out of his life like a hurricane but as the months stretched without a word he wondered if she’d drunk herself to death. He’d put part of her silence down to a sense of guilt. If that had been the case, she was over it now.

  She sucked her teeth and the plaintive expressive vanished. ‘I need money.’

  ‘You’ve got money. You’ve got three hundred thousand dollars.’

  ‘It’s gone.’

  He didn’t believe her. She would have spent some of it but this was a ploy to get more out of him. She was going to claim that she deserved more than the half he’d given her, despite all he’d paid to keep a roof over their heads. She could go to hell if she thought she’d get anything extra.

  ‘Get a job then.’

  ‘No-one will hire me.’

  He scoffed. ‘As if you’ve even tried. Where’d the money go?’

  ‘I spent it.’

  ‘Not my problem.’

  ‘Come on, Bruce, you’re my brother. You’re supposed to help family.’

  ‘And you coming to demand money for this house and threatening to kick me out is how you help family is it?’

  ‘Mum left this house to both of us. You lived in it a lot longer than I did.’

  ‘I didn’t tell you to leave Brachen.’

  ‘No but half the house was rightfully mine.’

  ‘And I was willing to pay you rent. But that wasn’t enough was it? And look what you did with “your half”. Pissed it away. Well, I’m tapped out.’

  ‘You must have something.’

  ‘You took it all. I went into debt because of you, and even if I did have money, I wouldn’t give you a cent.’

  ‘You’re mean, Bruce. Everyone thinks you’re this really nice guy but you were the worst brother ever.’ She glared at him and he glared right back.

  After all he’d done to try to keep her from falling apart and pay the original mortgage on the house, she had the nerve to think of him as a scrooge. She ripped out his heart the day she demanded her half. He knew she’d drink it away and he’d resisted for her own good but she’d insisted. Threatened. Whatever familial bond they’d had she hacked into pieces the day she gave that ultimatum. Without that link, she was free to make her own mistakes. He’d tried to save her so many times—as she started drinking, as she got worse, as she followed their mother’s path—but he couldn’t stop her. And he’d stopped wanting to.

  A knock at the door saved him from having to dump all that at her feet. There wasn’t any point. He’d said it all before.

  ‘Stay there,’ he said.

  ‘Ooooh, the hot date. Hope he likes them cheap.’

  He opened the door and Gabe rushed forward and kissed him with a force that wiped Rachel from his mind. Gabe broke for air, but Bruce could have happily passed out if it meant he didn’t have to deal with his sister.

  ‘I’m glad we’re doing this tonight,’ Gabe said. ‘It’s been a tough day.’

  He entered the house before Bruce could warn him. He stopped when he saw Rachel.

  She smirked. ‘This is your hot date? Oh boy, Bruce has been chasing your tail since you were a kid. Likes ’em young if you know what I mean.’

  Jets of molten lava shot up Bruce’s back and doused his head in fire. His hands closed into fists but that only intensified the heat.

  ‘Hello, Rachel,’ Gabe said with a voice as cold as ice.

  ‘Gabriel. How’s that blond twink friend of yours?’ Even drunk she knew where to stick the knife.

  ‘He’s not my friend.’

  ‘Not even with benefits?’

  ‘That’s enough, Rachel. Time to go.’ Bruce clenched his muscles tight enough for his forearms to cramp.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere. We haven’t finished our little family reunion.’

  He marched towards her but Gabe grabbed his hand. ‘Come on, let’s go outside for a bit.’

  Bruce was strong enough to drag Gabe along for a few steps but with a couple of rough tugs, Gabe managed to divert him. Rachel smirked but Bruce spun so he wouldn’t have to see her. Gabe shoved him out the door and closed it behind the two of them. He directed Bruce to the swing.

  ‘You’ve got to calm down.’ Gabe put both hands on his shoulders.

  ‘I’m sorry. I had no idea she was going to show up.’

  ‘You don’t have to apologise to me, I know what Rachel’s like.’

  So did he but he’d always hoped for better. Meanwhile she was probably inside breaking things. Or s
tealing them.

  ‘I thought once she got her half of the house, I’d never see her again.’

  ‘So why’s she here?’

  ‘She wants more money. Like there’s anything left to give her.’

  ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘I want to spend the evening with you like we’d planned.’

  ‘But?’

  He sighed. ‘But I think this is going to take a while.’

  Gabe sat in Bruce’s lap and the swing rocked them back and forth. This is what he’d wanted, a night together without sick parents, mortgage debts, the outside and complicated world. He took solace in Gabe’s arms, in feeling the weight of him across his lap, of knowing that they were together. But tonight wasn’t going to go as planned.

  ‘Do you want me to stay and help? She doesn’t look well.’

  ‘I’d better handle this on my own.’ Rachel looked like she’d found a new chew toy when Gabe walked in. She was his responsibility and he didn’t want Gabe to get bitten.

  ‘She’s going to press all your buttons, just like she always did. You won’t do anything stupid, will you?’

  ‘Well, it’s not like I have another three hundred grand to give her, but thank you for looking out for me.’ He hugged Gabe close, smelling that intoxicating scent that doused the fires of his rage, making it easier for him to breathe again. ‘How about I let you know when she’s gone? If it’s not too late, you could still come over.’

  ‘That sounds good. If nothing else, we got to spend some time together on the swing. It doesn’t squeak like it used to.’

  ‘I oiled it. I wanted everything to be perfect. I even cooked.’

  ‘You? I didn’t know you knew how.’

  He laughed. ‘Probably best you’re not staying then as I’d hate to prove you right.’

  Gabe kissed him and the last shreds of his tattered anger dissipated. It was just the two of them, alone out there. Gabe could stay a while. Rachel would probably pass out on the couch and then she’d be easier to move. He could drive her to Nowra.

  But a glass shattered the peace. He sighed and leaned back.