“Adaline!”
I bolt upright and swing toward the door. Catie’s “One Short Day” dress is wrinkled from her fight with the Ozian Guard. Still, she looks stunning. Her death glare, aimed straight for my heart, sends bolts of lightning zipping down my spine.
“Catie!” I spring from my chair and plaster on a grin, stretching my lips to the point of splitting, taking her warm hands in my icy ones. “You did great today.” Though her eyes remain hard, for the first time in six hours, I'm able to relax. My words are soft and my smile no longer strains my cheeks. “You made going up in that bubble look like a piece of cake.”
Okay, not true. Her death grip had been so tightly wrapped around the rim of the contraption the wand nearly slipped from her hand and brandished a poor ensemble member in the head. It’s a start though. And it’s leaps and bounds better than I’m doing.
“Thanks.” The comment makes her smile, but then her scowl snaps back into place. The frown lines around her lips are even deeper than they were a minute ago. “But I didn’t come back here for compliments.” She yanks her hands away and gestures down the hall, where sixty pairs of feet clatter past the dressing room and back toward the stage.
The actor playing Boq pokes his head through the doorframe. “Catie, come on! Hellsworth only gave us ten minutes before notes.”
I glance at the time on my phone. 3:53 p.m. Yikes! The first act ended four minutes ago. And Maddy still hasn’t come back to the dressing room.
Maybe she won’t even have time to.
Catie cranes her neck over her shoulder, giving me enough time to moisten my drying lips and run my hands over my slacks.
“Thanks,” she says. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
He nods. “Fine, but hurry. You know how she gets when we keep her waiting.”
Catie winces. “Two minutes?”
He grunts, but steps back in the direction of the crowd. “Make it quick.”
I bite down on my lip and clutch the fabric of my pant leg between my fingers as my knees threaten to give way. Perhaps I have a chance to dodge this bullet after all.
When the actor has disappeared and Catie‘s full attention, complete with a dagger-like stare, is on me, I brace her shoulders and spin her back in the direction of her receding cast mates. “You better get going.”
“What? No way!” She digs the three-inch heels of her pointed platinum yellow shoes into the floor and we skid to a stop inside the threshold.
“Whoa!” I barely retain my balance as she spins around and glowers.
“There’s no way I’m leaving this room until you tell me what the heck—scratch that, what the hell—was going on out there!”
I take one more futile glance at the emptying halls. “But, you’re going to be late.” The statement comes out in a squeak closer to the frequency of Mighty Mouse than a human. Ugh, seriously? Can I get any more desperate?
I grind my teeth. This is as close to rock bottom as I’ll get. For now.
“No, I’m not.” She points at the phone in my left hand, which I stuff back into my pocket. “I still have three minutes. So, start talking.”
Crap. Now what? Should I try to distract her? Run out the clock?
Oh my God. Tell her the truth, dammit!
I flinch as the tapping of Catie’s high heel echoes through the room.
“Well?” Her blue eyes pierce my soul. It’s uncanny, She doesn’t need me to tell her anything. She already knows.
“Ticktock, Addie.”
My gaze darts to the vanity and she huffs. When I dare to look back, her arms are crossed over her chest. “I’m not leaving until I get an answer, I don’t care what Helmsworth says.”
I scratch the back of my neck. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What am I going to do now? I have to say something. But what?
She rolls her eyes with a scoff. “Adaline, come on, this is getting ridiculous!”
Lie? Truth?
Her gaze becomes slits. Lie.
Her lips purse. Truth.
Her foot tap, tap, taps against the floor. Lie.
She forces our eyes to lock. Truth. “Addie, please.”
I open my mouth. Lie, truth, lie, truth, lie, tru—
“What did you think was going on out there?” Wait, what? That’s the best I can come up with? “All I saw was a routine dress rehearsal.”
She sneers. “Really, you want to play that game?”
Okay, ouch. The air bursts from my lungs, but instead of womaning up and defending myself, my eyes drift to the ground. After all, what can I say?
“We both know the voice coming out of Maddy’s mouth wasn’t hers.” My spine stiffens, but I don't move. “Look at me. Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t break your promise.” The sharpness of her voice is like ten thousand swords. “You said you’d try.”
Tears sting my eyes and a few stray droplets drip onto my cheeks as I raise my head.
“I, I didn’t mean to,” I whisper, hugging myself. “I swear. I. . .” The unfinished sentence hangs in the air. Why bother? It's a weak defense if there ever was one. I don't even know what I meant to say. “Cate, I’m sorry.” My voice is hoarse.
Catie steps closer to me, resting her hand on my cheek. “So am I. I'm sorry you don't trust yourself.” Her words are so soft I almost miss them, laced with tender understanding. I take her hand, but she slips it away and backs toward the hall, her eyes wide and glistening. “Tell Maddy I said break a leg out there.”
I wince and open my mouth, but she’s already gone.
During “Thank Goodness”, I have to shut off my mic and bury my face in my hands to stifle my sobs. Why, oh why am I such a damn coward?
I pull myself together by the time “The Wicked Witch of the East” starts, but the hole in my chest grows larger and larger with each number of the second act. Halfway through “As Long As You’re Mine”, I think I might be able to get through “No Good Deed” without a meltdown.
And I’ve also decided I have to tell Hellsworth the truth after this is over. The few nerves I have left are on the verge of shredding as I sit here, but it has to be done. I can’t handle the stress of being a double agent anymore.
Suddenly, my belt fades, overtaken by a parrot-like bass note so far off-key I slap my hands over my ears. At first, I have no idea where that sound came from. Then my vision tunnels and my ears ring as I recognize what it means.
No! No, no, no! I tear through the halls and thunder up the stairs toward the stage, Maddy’s stricken face seared into my memory.
Someone turned her mic on.
“Stop! Stop, stop, stop!” The orchestra plunges the auditorium into silence. I reach the wings and peek out into the house as Hellsworth vaults up the front row of the theater, a deep scowl etched on her face, which she aims directly at Maddy. Her pencil and notepad clatter to the desk in front of her.
“Miss Carmichael, has your throat suddenly been invaded by a cockatoo?”
I blanche and my eyes dart between the two of them as Maddy swallows and shakes her head. “No, ma’am.”
Hellsworth hums and presses her hands into the table. “Then what in God's name was that disgraceful sound coming out of your mouth?”
The frigid fist curling around my heart squeezes so tight my pulse roar in my ears. If I didn't know any better, I’d swear I was having a heart attack.
“Um, um . . .” She glances around helplessly.
Lie! I scream in my head. Lie through your damned teeth. I step forward, but before I can go any farther, Catie bursts onto the stage.
“Maddy isn’t the real singer!” she yells, hurrying to the edge.
My stomach rolls. I double over as the world turns upside down, then right side up. What the fuck is she doing?
“Miss Klarken,” Hellsworth demands. “What is the meaning of this?”
“I'm sorry for the interruption, Ms. Helmsworth. But what you heard? That’s Maddy’s real voice. She's not the secret Elphaba. Addie is.”
I turn
my back to the stage and retch on the hardwood. Nothing comes up.
“Miss Davidson?” When I look up, Hellsworth is shaking her head and polishing her glasses with a magenta rag she has taken from her pocket. “That’s not possible. She assured me—”
“She lied.” Catie cuts in. “And I can prove it.”
She hurries back to the left wing and I heave again as all of the stagehands’ eyes follow me. Maddy and Sebastian stand frozen on stage. Catie returns, holding up her phone. I squint and my mouth fills with cotton balls when I realize what’s on the screen. I'm standing under a loan spotlight in a floor-length red dress with my hair tied up in a bun. I remember this performance. It was our junior year showcase. I sang “Easy as Life” from Aida.
How does she still have it?
I lunge forward again, stretching out my arm, but she hits play before I have a chance to stop her.
Hellsworth’s astonishment morphs into rage as my voice, less mature and a little wobblier, but mine, fills the theater. She clutches the pencil so hard in her hand that it snaps in half, and her chest heaves like a dragon gearing up to fry his slayer. “Where is she?” she bellows. “I want an answer for this insolence!”
I straighten my posture and summon all of my courage, stepping away from the shadows. She's going to find me anyway. “Here I am.”
If looks could kill, I’d be dead on the spot.
Maddy and I exchange pensive glances as Hellsworth paces the length of her office, a menacing glower. Rehearsal has been cancelled and we’re the only three left in the building. She hasn't said a word since we finished stuttering an explanation. Instead, she walks, fiddling with the sparkling ruby on the silver-plated ring on her right hand, twisting it back and forth. I'm beginning to wonder if it's cloaked in poison and she plans to stab us with its point when we least expect it. Her eyes are fixed on either wall. Finally, with one last sharp exhale, she stops in front of us. We brace ourselves as her nails drum against the desk.
“Under ordinary circumstances, such deception would result in an immediate termination of your contracts.” We nod and hang our heads. Maddy offers her left hand and I squeeze it, hanging on for dear life. “However.”
Both of our gazes shoot up at the caveat.
“Because we are mere days from opening night, I have no time to find suitable replacements. Therefore, Miss Carmichael, you will hand over your deposit for the studio on 34th Street before opening night. I will be holding it ransom until the end of this run.”
My heart is in my mouth and I taste bile as Maddy blinks back tears.
“Yes, ma’am.” She sniffs. I clasp her hand a little tighter as Hellsworth plants herself in front of me so every wrinkle and blemish on her face is visible as she spits out her next words.
“And as for you, Miss Davidson. You will be performing all eighteen of the scheduled shows and be listed as the understudy should Miss Gomez ever take ill.” My knees tremble and a cry bubbles up from my throat. I shove it down. I will not give her the satisfaction of seeing me break. Not now.
“Y . . .yes, ma’am.” I’m doomed.
Helmsworth has added every extra rehearsal she can afford into the schedule to account for Addie’s eighteen performances. Unfortunately, Addie’s been tanking them. She can’t even get through a whole song without her voice cracking. Helmsworth’s fuse seems to get shorter and shorter with every practice. Honestly, I’m a bit terrified for what might happen should something go wrong on opening night and she has to step in. I knew she had stage fright, but never realized it was this bad. Still, once she’s in full costume and makeup in front of a live audience without having to worry about Helmsworth’s criticism, I know she’ll be back to her old, confident, song-slaying self. If I can get up in the bubble after my accident, she can do this.
I hope.
“I can’t believe the whole run is almost sold out already,” Sam says.
I shrug. “Addie always had the ability to captivate her audience.”
Maddy snickers. “There’s a bit more to it than that.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, unfastening my wig to place it on the stand.
“I’m pretty sure your man candy quitting his job on live radio to support you has something to do with it, too.”
My man candy? I stare at her. “You mean Grayson?” She nods and I hold up my hands. “Oh no, we’re not—”
“We know,” Maddy cuts in. “But his followers have been going nuts.”
“Followers?” I grab my phone from the vanity and navigate to Grayson’s Twitter, flooded with comments tagging the two of us.
“Holy crap. This is crazy!”
Sam frowns and comes to lean against the edge of the vanity. “You didn’t know?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t had a lot of time to catch up on social media lately.”
Maddy clicks her tongue. “Catie, why didn’t you tell us what was going on?”
“I don’t know.” I examine my French manicure. “It was, is, embarrassing. And way more complicated than one radio slipup. I didn’t want anything getting out.”
Sam sits on the desktop, scrolling through her phone. “Well, it’s out now. And from the looks of these comments, the radio execs are gonna have a field day.”
Maddy nods. “Mm. Who are they anyway?”
My cheeks grow cold and I suck in my breath. Oh my God, the Thomases! I forgot about them. Things have been so peaceful since Grayson quit. What if they’re planning to incriminate me in the middle of the run? I take a deep breath, but the room spins. It’s been too quiet as far as they’re concerned. Who knows what they might be planning.
“Catie?” Maddy asks. I jerk upright as she places a hand on my arm. “Are you okay?”
I smile weakly and brush her off. I have to learn to stop letting my imagination run away with me. “Yeah, I’m fi—”
A rapid banging on my door makes all of us jump. “Catherine Klarken, I demand you open this door right now!”
My ears buzz. No. It can’t be.
“What the hell?” Sam’s brow furrows as she crosses the room and thrusts open the door, only to be greeted by an irate Evelyn Thomas. “Who are you?”
Evelyn sneers and pushes past her, knocking her into the clothing rack as she stalks toward me. “There you are, you little rat,” she sneers. “How dare you turn my son against me?”
I open my mouth, but Maddy steps in front of me. “Whoa, hold on, lady. First of all, only cast and crew are allowed back here. You are neither, so what the hell?”
Evelyn smirks, staring right past Maddy to lock eyes with me. “Your little stage manager is far too easily persuaded.” She flashes a hundred-dollar bill in the air and Sam’s eyes widen.
“Listen here you harpy bitch—”
Evelyn laughs shrilly. “Oh dear, relax. I have nothing against either of you.” Stepping forward, she reaches around Maddy, who is acting like my human shield, and grabs my wrist so hard she strains something.
“Ow!”
“Let go of her!” Maddy demands.
Evelyn ignores both of our protests and pulls me forward so we’re face-to-face. “I want an explanation! What the hell makes you think you can coerce my son into backstabbing his own mother?”
I gnash my teeth and fist my hand, wrenching out of her grip. I don’t have any reason to be nice to her anymore and I’ve had enough of her bullshit. A dry laugh barks from my throat. “Oh, trust me, I can’t coerce your son into anything. Quitting the radio was his choice. I had no idea until it happened. In fact, if you listened to the station, you would know that.”
“Whoa.” Maddy says. “She’s the WGBC exec?”
I nod.
“But he never would’ve done it if you hadn’t—”
“No. He never would’ve done it if you hadn’t used his career as a damn bargaining chip.” Evelyn stutters, but I push ahead. “Do you hate me that much? Do you care more about your precious reputation than your granddaughter’s welfare?”
Ev
elyn’s face turns red. “None of this would’ve happened if you—”
“If I what? Hadn’t had my accident? Gotten pregnant? Newsflash Evelyn, it takes two to tango. Lyssa’s existence is as much Grayson’s responsibility as it is mine.”
“You ruined his life because you were a reckless, thoughtless child!”
“Hey!” Sam lunges forward, but I toss her a look and Maddy holds her back, one hand filming the whole thing on her phone.
“I’m fairly certain he would disagree with you,” I say, my voice surprisingly calm. “Your smear campaign has done far more to damage your reputation than raising a daughter ever could.”
Evelyn smirks. “What people don’t know—”
“They will soon.” Maddy flashes the record button on her phone. “Once this is out there, everyone will know what kind of person you are.” She clicks a few buttons and then a satisfying whoosh echoes through the room. Evelyn dives for the phone, but Maddy sidesteps so she crashes into the wall.
“Oops. You missed.”
“You miserable little—”
Sam grabs her arm before she can advance. “Listen lady, I’m about this close to calling the goddamn police. So, unless you want your arrest for harassment charges going viral, I suggest you leave. Now.” She lets go with a powerful shove toward the door. Evelyn stumbles and snarls, “This isn’t over, Catherine!”
I roll my eyes and stride toward the door, forcing her over the threshold. “Oh, I think it is.”
“Mark my words, bitch, you’ll regret—”
“Bye, Evelyn.” I’ve never felt so satisfied slamming a door in my life.
Three days later, the metal frame of the bubble is like ice against my palm even as my fingers wrap around it like a vice and a sheen of sweat coats my skin and soaks beneath my pin curled blonde wig.
This is it. Opening night. Everything I’ve done for the last two months is either going to pay off, or I’ll crash and burn in a specular blaze of Glindafied glory.
The orchestra swells into the opening number. I suck in the deepest breath I can muster as my track lurches forward. My cue is charging toward me like an oncoming train, and my stomach roils, but I blink away the spots and search the house for a familiar face. At first, I can’t see anything, and my breath hitches as the ensemble chants below. From the rafters, I steady myself and scan the audience again.
Duet Rubato Page 29
