Duet Rubato

by Claerie Kavanaugh

  His features soften and he sinks onto a stool with a long, exasperated sigh. “That was, is, never going to be my goal in all of this. You know Evelyn and Henry are—”

  “Control freaks, I know. I fling my hands in the air. “Grow some balls, Grayson!”

  He shuts his eyes. As the seconds drag on, I’m met with silence. When he opens his eyes, they’re laced with sympathy and understanding.

  “Cate, I care about you. Both of you. You’re my family.”

  “Then come back when you can act like it!” I point to the door and he gives me a long, desperate look. I quell the sob bubbling up in my throat. “Go,” I rasp.

  Grayson hangs his head. I follow him as he trudges into the entryway. Before he leaves, he grabs my hand. “I promise, I won’t let my parents take her from you. No matter what Rebecca digs up.”

  “Whatever.”

  He sighs, but turns the doorknob. “I’ll be back at five for Lyssa.” When it clicks closed behind him, I blink back tears and glance at the clock on the wall. I hit Addie’s number before nestling the phone between my shoulder and my ear and sitting down on the couch.

  “Catie? Is everything okay?” Her voice is muffled through the speaker and there’s a stereo of jumbled noises in the background, but I make out the protective panic in her words.

  I sniff. “No.”

  “What happened? Where is he? Do you need me to come home? I don’t own a shotgun, but I know a guy.”

  A wet giggle escapes my lips. “No, no, I’ll be fine. I wanted to know where you guys were.”

  A pause. “Are you sure?”

  “I promise.”

  “Okay. We’ll be back soon. We’re getting coffee.”

  I gasp. “You gave her caffeine?”

  “Yes,” Addie retorts. “I gave your nine-year-old a grande caramel macchiato.”

  “Adaline!”

  She cackles. “Down, killer! The munchkin’s got hot chocolate.” Clicking of a keyboard echoes in my ears. “See?”

  I pull the phone back. Lyssa’s kissing the screen, a giant, cocoa-covered smile stretching across her cheeks, complete with a whipped cream mustache to boot.

  Yep, that’s my daughter. But for how much longer? My stomach drops. There’s no way I can keep my reputation intact now. Not with his parents pulling the strings. How long will it take for me to lose Lyssa forever?

  “Catie?”

  Calm down. Tell Addie when she gets home. She’ll know what to do.

  God, I hope so. I pick up the cell. “That wasn’t funny.”

  “Then why did you laugh?”

  “Jerk!”

  “You love us.”

  I grin, but it quivers. “That I do. See you soon?”

  “Yep. We’re gonna grab burgers. Should be back in like an hour or so. You want anything?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “Grayson still there?”

  I shake my head. “He left. I don’t—” Another shuddering breath.

  “Catie? What happened? Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Or, I will be.”

  “Catherine.”

  “Go on. I’ll explain when you get home.” I hang up and throw the phone at the couch. Now what?

  “Are you gonna drink all that, Addie?” Lyssa asks as I thank the barista and pick up the to-go container. Her eyes bug out of her head at the sight of the Styrofoam tray filled with three more grande cups and one venti. “Dad let me try coffee once. It’s gross.”

  “You’re right.” Laughing, I shake my head. Lyssa watches with a curious expression when I take out the tallest one to make the weight a little more even. That’s for Frank. If there’s one thing I know he needs by now, it’s caffeine. I’d bet he’s been chewed out at least a dozen times since we left.

  Lyssa giggles. “All that coffee is gonna make your stomach hurt.”

  “Nah, munchkin, don’t worry. These are for some friends.”

  Lyssa’s brow creases. “But I thought we were getting burgers!” she whines. “Are your friends at the restaurant?”

  I close my eyes and will myself not to look at the time ticking down on my phone. Come on, kid, work with me here!

  I’d told Catie we’d be back in an hour. Plenty of time to run by the theater, haul Franklin’s ass out of the pit he’d dug himself, and get back before anyone noticed we were gone.

  Or so I thought. It was fruitless tryikng to convince a nine-year-old fresh paninis were better than burgers any day.

  “Ad-die!” The stomping of a tiny tennis shoe causes a rueful chuckle to scratch at my throat. When I look over, Lyssa’s glaring at me with her arms crossed and her lower lip jutted out. “You promised!”

  Crap. Really Lyssa, the guilt trip? I let out a resigned sigh and give Lyssa a wane smile. “You’re right, I did.” I push open the door with my back and then turn to hold it for her. She sulks out into the cold air and follows me to the car. “Come on.” I open the doors, placing the tray in the passenger side. “Let’s get burgers.”

  Her smile melts my icy heart.

  Half an hour later, I turn onto a street twenty minutes in the opposite direction of where we’re supposed to be, and my fingers clutch the wheel. I can’t keep my gaze from darting to the blinking white numbers on the dashboard. 1:35 p.m. Dammit!

  Lyssa’s insistence took us ten minutes up the road, but everyone and their mother had a craving for burgers today. The drive-through is twenty cars deep. I mean, twenty-fucking-cars in front of us. During the endless wait, I try to persuade her to go to the chicken place across the street with a much shorter line, but the threat of a fourth tantrum keeps me rooted in my place. At the window, the lady tells us the kid’s meal Lyssa wants is sold out and they’re busy making a new, fresh batch of patties.

  It’s way past when I told Catie we’d be back, and we haven’t even reached the theater. I hope she’s okay. The texts every ten minutes aren’t helping. I’m tempted to turn around and go back, theater be damned. I pull out my phone when it chimes again as we idle at the stoplight and glance down at my cluttered screen.

  12:23 P.M. Catie: Changed my mind lol. Bring me back a Black n’ Bleu? Thanks xx

  12:44 P.M. Catie: Need 2 talk. Any chance u can make it quick?

  1:00 P.M. Catie: Hello?

  1:30 P.M. Catie: Where R U?

  Sigh. I contemplate giving up altogether, but my loyalty wins out. I don’t want this show to go down in a blaze of glory, and the only way to keep that from happening is if I suck up my pride, put on my big-girl pants, and march into the lion’s den.

  “Woah.” I jerk my hand in time to stop the Styrofoam tray of Americanos and Frappuccinos from toppling over and staining the tan carpet. The car lurches forward as we bounce over a pothole and I lock my jaw at the sound of Lyssa’s French fries shuffling around in their container before tumbling out.

  “Uh-oh,” she whispers. I cringe. “Um, Addie?”

  “You okay back there?”

  “Uhhh.”

  Shit. “What happened?” I crane my neck and chomp down on the inside of my cheeks at the clutter of French fries and ketchup smears dotting Lyssa’s seat and my recently cleaned upholstery.

  She gestures toward her overturned container on the floor with a sauce-stained hand. It still holds half of a ketchup-and-mustard-doused burger. I wince at the threat of it flinging anywhere else. “It flipped.”

  “Oh, really?” I narrow my eyes and she sinks in her seat. “Didn’t I say no sauce in the car?”

  Her gaze flicks from my stern features to the stains and she fiddles with her hands. “Um, I’m sorry.”

  I let out a long breath, running a hand down my face as we finally turn into the parking lot. “You’re determined to get in trouble today, aren’t you?” I mutter under my breath while pulling into a spot and cutting the engine.

  Lyssa huffs and vaults forward. Luckily, she’s yet to unbuckle the seatbelt. “Am not!”

  “Are too!” I sass. Lyssa grins at my
impulsive reaction and I kick myself for the childish outburst. Gnashing my teeth, I dig my nails into my palms. “You promised you were going to be good this morning, but you keep doing things to get yourself in trouble.”

  “But, Addie!” I roll my eyes and slam the door behind me as I climb out of the car. I catch, “—accident!” when I yank Lyssa’s open, armed with a fistful of napkins.

  Raising my eyebrow, I lean into my right hip and plant my hand there. “Maybe so, but you didn’t listen to what I said and you made a mess all over my car!”

  She withdraws when my voice rises, her eyes filling, but I’m too worked up to take the bait. Why, oh why, did I agree to this suicide mission?

  I pick up what I can and toss it back into the fast food bag.

  “Hold still.” She obeys and I scrape the napkins across her skin, dabbing enough of the sticky mess from her palms so I can hold one of them without it squishing in the crevices of my own hands. Then I unbuckle her seatbelt, “Don’t you dare let go,” before helping her onto the pavement. With my free hand, I shut her door and grab the coffees. Once it locks, we start for Bright Light.

  Weaving through the corridors undetected is harder than expected. I texted Franklin to find out where he’s working, but thus far, no response. I duck around various doorframes in search of a familiar face. The rehearsal spaces are empty, and it’s both a relief and an annoyance. At this rate, we won’t be back for another hour at least. Lyssa gives me strange looks. I end up having to convince her the coffee order was part of a secret mission.

  “Promise you won’t tell anyone, not even your mom.”

  Lyssa grins. “Cross my heart.”

  I take a good look around and lower my voice. “This is a magic potion that gives super-strength. Without it my friends can’t defeat the “ogre”, otherwise known as Hell, I mean, Ms. Helmsworth. But if she catches us before we get it to them, she’ll take it all for herself.”

  Lyssa is soon scampering up and down hallways in search of Frank, Maddy, Logan, and Sam.

  I’m about to give up when I reach the farthest corner of the third floor—the office spaces—and still, there’s not a friendly face in sight. Frank doesn’t need my help if he can’t bother to answer his fucking phone. In a last-ditch effort, I peek into the greenroom catching a glimpse of a bejeweled jean jacket. Rushing in with Lyssa at my heels, I barrel toward the couch where she’s lounging with her feet up, black leather boots scuffing the coffee table.

  “Samantha! Thank God!”

  “Addie?” Her head snaps up and the sketches she’s pouring over flutter to the tile when she tucks her legs beneath her. “What are you doing here?”

  “We give you the ‘potion’!” Lyssa pipes up before I can reply.

  “What?” Sam laughs and gives me a quizzical look. “Who’s this?”

  I sigh. “Long story.”

  Lyssa tugs on the arm balancing the coffee cups, knocking me off-kilter as she grabs the Java Chip Frappe and shoves it toward Sam. “Here you go. But you have to drink it fast, before the ogre gets it!” She winks.

  “Whoa!” I fumble to keep the rest upright and glare at the little girl.

  Sam leans forward with a chuckle, but gladly accepts the drink. “Thanks!” She takes a long gulp and winks, making Lyssa giggle. “Don’t worry, I won’t let her catch me!”

  “Okay!” Her eyes sparkle as she looks at me, rocking back on her heels. “Can I take the others to your friends?”

  I squeeze her shoulder before setting the remaining three drinks on the table. “In a minute. Why don’t you go over there,” I point to the alcove across the room where there’s a small TV and love seat, “and see if there’s any cartoons on while I talk to Sam.”

  “Aww! But you said—”

  “Alyssa.” I cut her off with a scowl. “Do you want to lose your phone tomorrow, too? Because I can keep it.”

  “No!” Her hair swings as she shakes her head and scampers toward the sofa.

  A smile sneaks onto my lips as I watch her flip through the channels until settling on some cartoon. Finally, I exhale as I sink into the cushion beside my friend. “I don’t know how Catie does it. She’s exhausting!”

  Sam’s cheeks puff like a chipmunk’s as she spits the straw from her mouth and sits forward to swallow the gulp of caffeine, smothering a cough. My eyes widen and I slap at her back until she can breathe again. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” Sam says, her face glowing red. “But did I hear you right? That’s Catie’s kid?”

  “Fuck!” The word comes out somewhere between a growl and a hiss. Lyssa whips to face me.

  With a groan, I flop back against the fabric and drape an arm over my eyes. “Sorry, munchkin. Don’t tell Mom you heard that, okay?”

  Lyssa plants a hand on her hip and smiles suspiciously. “I won’t,” she says in a singsong, and my shoulders drop. “If you take me out for ice cream later.”

  “Oh my God,” I moan, leaning forward and rubbing my fingers over my eyelids.

  Sam’s thin frame shakes with laughter and she places a gentle hand on my arm. “Yep, that’s Catie’s kid all right.”

  Peeking out, I see Lyssa’s brow arch. “Well?

  I groan. “All right, kid, you win.”

  Lyssa pumps her fist in the air. “Yes!”

  Sam smirks when I mime wiping sweat from my brow. Crisis averted. We drop our conversation to a whisper.

  “Seriously though,” Sam asks. “Catie has a kid?”

  I hold up my hands and level our gazes. “Not my story to tell. Just . . .can you please watch her for a bit?”

  Sam snorts. “Are you kidding?”

  I frown. “Please? I’m on a tight deadline as it is and I’m already running late. Frank called and begged me to come up here, but I haven’t seen him anywhere! Why is everything so fuudging empty?” My gaze darts toward Lyssa and Sam snickers.

  “Nice catch.”

  I glower and cross my arms over my chest.

  “Hellsworth’s been demanding run-throughs since nine on the main stage, and poor Frank’s stretched to the end of his rope. Last I saw, he was up in the lighting booth with Logan trying to work out some kind of malfunction.” She rolls her eyes and takes another sip. “Like we don’t have enough of those.”

  “Thanks.” I stand, then spin on my heel and quirk a brow. “Why aren’t you down there?”

  “We can’t do final fittings with the understudies until Maddy’s done and Hellsworth doesn’t want any of the actors costumed on stage until they can rehearse with the sets, which they can’t until maintenance figures out what happened with Glinda’s bed. They’ll be out around seven tonight. The last thing we need around here is more broken bones.”

  I cringe at the thought of Gabby, but thank her one more time before heading out toward the lighting booth, remaining beverages in hand.

  “Hey,” I greet when I open the door. “Sam said I’d find you here.”

  Logan jumps out of his seat in front of the soundboard “Addie?” His mouth unhinges. “What are you doing here?”

  “Adaline?” Frank pops up from beneath, knotted in a mess of cords. “Thank God!” He disentangles himself and races over to me, throwing off my balance when he grips my shoulders. “What took you so long?” He looks around. “Where’s the kid? I thought you were babysitting.”

  Resisting the urge to curl up my top lip, I take his arms by the wrists and force his hold on me to loosen. “I was. That’s what took me so long. Sam’s got her now, but I don’t have much time. I was supposed to bring her back an hour ago. Her mom’s been texting me like crazy. She’ll call the police department any minute now.”

  “Oh.” Frank exchanges a quick look with Logan. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  I give up two more coffees. “You can make it up to me later. I’m here now, so what can I do?”

  “Well . . .” Frank looks down and scratches the back of his neck. The pages from my organized binder are scattered across the floor. My
vision reddens. He could get a lot more done if he weren’t so scatterbrained. I take a few deep breaths even as steam billows from my ears and keep my gaze focused on him.

  “Well?” I arch my brow as his feet shuffle along the carpet.

  “You see, the thing is . . .”

  You said you needed my help, so dammit, I’m gonna help! I did not go through all that to turn around and leave.

  “Maddy’s nerves are shot with the understudies in Studio D,” Logan cuts in, and relief floods Franks features. “Maybe you could help there?”

  I glare at him. “How?”

  Logan shrugs. “They’re working on “Dancing Through Life” with the principles. You know that number, right?”

  Balling my fists, I mutter, “Maddy’s showed me the diagrams a few times.”

  Frank lights up. “Perfect! I’m sure she’ll love the extra hands.” He practically shoves me out the door, but I manage to glower at him on the way out.

  “You owe me big time.”

  His cheeks flush and he nods before slamming the door in my face. I scowl and stomp toward the studio.

  Maddy and I exchange greetings and then she rewinds the music to Elphaba’s entrance at the Ozdust. Susan, the understudy Elphaba, begins dancing. A few beats in, Maddy nudges me and raises a brow.

  Are you seeing what I’m seeing?

  Nodding, I watch. My lips dip lower and lower the longer Susan drags out her moves. Hellsworth had given Maddy free rein on the choreography, and she in turn had tried as hard as she could, both for legal and personal reasons, to give each number a new take from the Broadway classic, much like Sam with the costumes and Logan on the lights. One of her twists was letting each Elphaba come up with her own Ozdust dance.

  “It will give them ‘flair’,” she’d said. None of the Elphabas were clones of each other in real life, so why should they act like it on stage? So far, it’s worked out, but I understand the worry lines marring my friend’s chipper features. Elphaba’s understudy makes the dance her own, all right, but her movements are much too stiff and robotic. Elphaba is an outcast, but her dance still has to maintain some fluidity if the audience is going to believe Glinda can make the entire ballroom join in. Right now, all the other actress has to work with is a lopsided robot and cross between the moonwalk and tin soldier.