Duet Rubato

by Claerie Kavanaugh

  What if she’s not here? Did Evelyn refuse to let her come after what happened last week? No. She wouldn’t. Grayson wouldn’t let her keep Lyssa away.

  Just as I’m about to lose hope, a distinctive whoop ricochets through the theater. My gaze darts up as the bubble trembles and creaks into the audience’s view. Henry tosses me an encouraging thumbs up from the front row. Evelyn is nowhere to be found. Instead, Lyssa’s nestled between her grandfather and Grayson. Her features gleam with pride and she’s wearing the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. Grayson squeezes her hand as my rig sputters to a stop.

  “You got this, Mom!” she yells, milliseconds before the cue for my solo.

  I smoother a laugh behind my hand, but recover on the tail end of the cord leading to my line.

  No One Mourns the Wicked ends in a standing ovation. And my family is clapping loudest of them all. As I glance toward the wings, even Helmsworth’s eyes look misty. Then again, it could be the glare from the spotlights. Still, even in the midst of the insane quick change for Dear old Shiz, I can’t stop smiling.

  After everything, the accident, the hiding, the many, many failures it took to get here, I did it. Finally. Just weeks ago, I had thought this show would doom my career. I was wrong. Thanks to Addie, Lyssa, Grayson, and, even Evelyn, now I know it’s just the beginning. I can do anything as long as they’re by my side.

  “What?” I growl, raising my green-tinted hand to my headset as sweat breaks out on my forehead. “What do you mean she fainted?” My heart stampedes as I race across the stage, heading toward the pit leading to the trapdoor at the front of the proscenium.

  “I, I don’t know,” Frank stammers on the other end. “She was fine a few minutes ago and then”—he snaps his fingers—“next thing we know, she’s passed out on the platform. Maybe it was heat exhaustion? Those dresses look pretty heavy.”

  Yeah, no shit.

  I lock my jaw and run a hand down my face. Fuck! Seriously? Of all the nights for this to happen. I stare down at my forty-pound, shimmering black dress, an exact replica of Donna’s, and comb back a few strands of the black wig as it falls into my eyes. I probably look deranged, running around in full costume while acting as a second stage manager and assistant director. Hellsworth assured me this won’t be normal protocol, but for now, I’m acting as Elphaba’s understudy and standby while Emily is on vocal rest. Because it’s opening night, Hellsworth wanted us all as prepared as possible should anything go wrong.

  I never thought it would. Maybe we do have the fucking curse of Macbeth.

  “Well wake her up, dammit!” I bark. “Water, smelling salts, something!”

  Catie, who’s coming offstage from her last scene with Madame Morrible, calls for Fiyero, but stops short upon seeing my face, watching me with furrowed brows and wide eyes. “Are you okay?” she whispers.

  I shake my head, too focused on the impending disaster to think about the fact that this is the first time we’ve spoken to one another since the argument after dress rehearsal. “No!” I snap. “Donna fainted on the trapdoor platform.”

  Catie gasps. “What? But “No Good Deed” starts in—”

  The chords of the song boom through the theater. Sparks of dread up my spine.

  “Now.” She winces and I scowl.

  “Fuck!” Hiking up my skirts, I dash for the door to the pit, Catie hot on my heels.

  “What are you going to do?” she pants as we rush down the stairs below the stage.

  “I don’t know!” I snap back, throwing a glance over my shoulder. We turn down the hall and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the door to the pit. “But you need to go back up there. Stall them, make up a sketch, do whatever you have to. Hellsworth will roast us both if this thing goes up in flames after all that’s happened.” I speak into my headset again. “Frank, how’s it going down there?”

  “Are you kidding?” Catie shrieks. “No way.”

  I gape at her as we speed toward the door. “Why the hell not?” But before she can reply, Frank’s answer crackles through my headset.

  “She’s not looking good,” he says. “We need to call an ambulance.”

  My mouth goes dry. “You can’t wake her?”

  “Nope. We’ve tried everything. She’s sweating like crazy. The stagehands managed to get her out of the trapdoor, but she needs an IV like now.”

  My hands clam up. “How do you know?”

  “My mom’s a nurse, okay? Trust me. I’m calling 911.”

  “Oh my God.” My hand lands on the doorknob to the pit and my breaths come in short gasps. What the fuck are we gonna do now? The intro has started playing for the fourth time and my whole body is trembling. I’m dead. Worse than dead. After this, not only will I be fired, but blacklisted. And if Donna can’t go on. . .

  No matter how I try, I can’t hold in enough air. Holy crap, what’s happening to me? The walls are closing in and black spots dance across my vision. A hand gripping my arm keeps me upright.

  “Lyn, breathe.”

  “C-Catie?” I fight around the cotton balls sucking the moisture from my mouth.

  “Yes, Lyn. I’m right here, okay? Breathe. In. Out. Do it with me.”

  After a few deep inhales, the fog dissipates and the corridors come back into focus. I teeter and Catie wraps an arm around my shoulder for support. “You all right?” she asks.

  I nod, adrenaline ebbing through my veins as her presence anchors me to the ground. “What happened?” I look at Catie; she’s wearing my headset over her wig. “Where’s Donna?”

  “Still in the pit. You were hyperventilating, but it’s only been a few minutes. She’s going to be fine. The paramedics are on their way.”

  “Whoa.” The room stops spinning, and the familiar opening chords to “No Good Deed” echo through the theater. Again. Dammit. “How many times have they started over?”

  “About seven,” Catie says and I cringe.

  “Crap. If Hellsworth realizes something’s wrong—”

  “Franklin Johnson!” Catie and I jump as her shout rings in our ears. “What the hell is going on back there? Why is my orchestra repeating the same intro for the seventh time in a row?”

  I snatch the headset from Catie and plop it over my wig as Frank fumbles through an answer. “We-well you see, Ms. Helmsworth . . .” I sigh, taking pity on him.

  “There was a minor medical emergency,” I say, finally stepping into the pit and surveying the damage. The rising platform is a few inches off the ground, Frank and two other stagehands have laid Donna down on the opposite side of the floor, Frank slowly pouring water between her parted lips while the other two help her out of the dress so she’s ready when the ambulance arrives.

  “What kind of medical emergency, Miss Davidson?”

  “Donna fainted due to heat exhaustion in the pit. Frank already called an ambulance and they’re on their way but I’m afraid we’re going to have to postpone the show until she is transported to the hospital.”

  Hellsworth sucks in a breath, but composes herself enough to bark orders. “Very well. Mr. Johnson, make an announcement over the loudspeaker. Miss Davidson, head to the dressing room and be prepared to perform at a moment’s notice. I shall wait for the ambulance.”

  I swallow. “Yes, ma’am.” Catie squeezes my arm, offering an encouraging smile as we disperse to carry out our tasks.

  “You can do this,” she whispers as we head down the corridor. Dear God, I hope she’s right.

  “I can’t do this.”

  Twenty minutes later, Donna is safe in the hands of medical professionals. Frank was right, she was dehydrated and needed an IV) and I’m staring down the belly of the beast, hands refusing to stop quaking as Frank urges me onto the platform with the stand holding Elphaba’s spellbook. During the opening, it will raise to the stage, revealing a frustrated witch as she—I—scour for a way to save my true love. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t step onto the platform.

  “Yes, you can.” Catie urges, still d
ressed as Glinda as she clasps my hand. “You were made for this.”

  Licking my lips, I force out a sadistic laugh. “Maybe three years ago, but now—”

  “Now,” Catie interjects, “you’re still meant for it. Things may have changed, but we both know you’re a performer at heart. Always have been, always will be.”

  “But—”

  “It doesn’t matter how much you try to hide, Addie. Nothing can change who you are.”

  “Think about the interview,” Frank chimes in. “People loved you. They’ll be thrilled to see you perform.”

  “Exactly!” I burst out, throwing up my hands, missing the warmth of Catie’s fingers. “They’re all expecting some mind-blowing singer and I’m—” I choke on my words and I blink back tears as Catie’s hand comes to rest on my shoulder.

  “You’re what, Lyn?” she whispers.

  Sighing, I take a shuddering breath and face her, tuning out Frank entirely. “I already failed once, Catie,” I rasp. “I can’t handle that again.”

  “You won’t,” she says, running her hand down my cheek so flakes of green paint stain her fingers.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know you.” She smiles and brushes some hair from my forehead. “And you, Adaline Nadine, are unlimited.” Before I have the chance to protest, her lips crash against mine. I melt into the spontaneity of the movement, moaning in protest, then wanton. Her body against mine makes the rest of my fears fall away, and the chaos of the theater fades into the background. As her arms wrap around my waist and her tongue roves the recesses of my mouth, one thought drowns out all the others.

  This is what it means to defy gravity.

  “Ahem.” Frank clears his throat and we pull apart, though from the devilish smile contorting her features, and the pleasant ache pulsing in my lower region, neither one of us are the least bit sorry.

  “I hate to interrupt, ladies,” he says, shuffling his feet. His eyes drift to the ground when we face the platform. “But we do have a show to put on.”

  I laugh, most of the tension draining from my body. If everything goes to shit, at least I have Catie. She risked everything to put on this show. It’s only right I do the same. Squishing down another bout of panic, I drop my hand and step onto the platform. One last deep breath, and as I meet her eyes, I offer what I hope is an endearing grin.

  “Wish me luck.”

  “Break a leg,” Catie says. “I know you will.”

  The next thing I know, Frank’s voice echoes over the loudspeaker and the orchestra swells into the intro, the melody vibrating through my body. I close my eyes as the platform rises, letting my natural instincts take over.

  Pride swells in my chest as the opening note echoes through the house. I let my terrified, desperate scream for Fiyero taper off to be overtaken by Lyn’s powerful belt. Even among the lights and smoke, there’s no other way to describe it except to say she’s transformed. Her chest rises and falls in perfect time with the music and her features sparkle with the fiery determination that had lit them so many times during the course of our relationship. She’s powerful. She’s fearless. She is the Wicked Witch. And I gasp as the last notes burst over the crowd.

  There’s silence for a split second, and a momentary glimpse of trepidation passes over her face. But then the audience bursts into applause, and she grins. When she exits into the wings, her skin shimmers with a sheen of sweat and she’s heaving, but I don’t care. Before the stagehands touch up her makeup or hand over hydration, I launch myself in her path, knocking her over when she catches me.

  “Whoa!” She laughs giddily and grins after regaining her balance. “What was that for?”

  “You did it, Lyn.” I hug her tighter. “I knew you could.”

  “We did it, Cate,” she corrects, holding me at arm’s length. “I thought of you the whole time. I’d never have gotten where I am today if it weren’t for you.”

  “Yes, you would’ve,” I chide. “You just needed a little help along the way.”

  She chuckles, cupping my face and resting her forehead on mine. “Promise me we’ll never stop fighting for one another, okay?”

  I grin, leaning in for another kiss. “Never.”

  * * *

  Thanks for joining me on this adventure. Book reviews from awesome readers like you are the lifeblood of authors. If you enjoyed the book, please take a moment to leave a review, you'd be surprised how much it helps! If you want to be the first to know about all of the other lost legends to be unraveled among the Forgotten Fairytales collection, visit: www.claeriekavanaugh.com to subscribe to my newsletter and gain access to behind-the-scenes tidbits from the making of Queen of Thieves and get early glimpses at all of my upcoming projects.

  So many people went in to helping this book come to life.

  To all my friends and family who have and continue to support me on this crazy journey of self-publishing. To my critique partners and best writing friends Fabio, Rebecca (go check out her book, Lightning Proof, if you like sci-fi and dystopian), and Siri. You all are amazing!

  To all my betas and those who read the super-rough, early version of this story, thank you for sticking with me.

  To my editor, Natalia Leigh, author of Song of the Dryad, my amaz- ing cover artist and formatter, Molly Phipps of We Got You Covered. To Shirley Fedorak, who graciously took time out of her busy editing schedule to proofread this and stop me from publishing a few egregious mistakes, present even after what felt like a million read-throughs.

  To Ryn, my amazing diversity reader who helped me make sure Addie was represented as well as humanly possible.

  To Lauren, Dolora, Kelli, and the rest of my street team.

  To Ricky and Starr, responsible for the gorgeous character art on my website. To Brittany Wang, who designed my awesome website.

  And finally, to my fans. My projects wouldn’t exist without you, so thank you for following me on this journey and I hope you come back for more!

  Claerie Kavanaugh has spent most of her life telling stories, but she never imagined herself writing romance. In fact, she used to think it should only be reserved for Hallmark movies. It wasn't until college, when she discovered fanfiction, that she learned what romance was truly about: not just fluffy relationships and happily ever afters, but human connection, the desire to push one another to be better, and create hope that somewhere, somehow, everyone has someone.

  When she's not writing, she loves to travel and explore new cultures, helping other authors polish their works as a freelance editor, and singing while doing so. Broadway musicals are her soul-food, something her mother and sister know well. She constantly blasts the newest soundtrack through the halls of their Missouri home, much to the chagrin of her very sassy and spoiled cat.

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  Also by Claerie Kavanaugh

  The Dueling Hearts Saga

  Duet Rubato (Coming Soon)

  Watch for more at Claerie Kavanaugh’s site.