by Tracey Ward
“It sounded like you did.”
“You need to get your hearing checked.”
“I’m on it,” I laugh. “First thing when I get to New York.”
“What about L.A.?”
Greer’s question wipes the smile off my face. It takes the air from my lungs. It sounds innocent on the surface, but it’s a Russian nesting doll at its core. I answer this one question and there will be another behind it. And another. And another. Another. And it’s not that she doesn’t deserve an answer, she does, but I just don’t have it. Not yet.
“I’m taking you guys home first,” I answer evasively. “Then I’ll worry about L.A.”
“Jace!” Grant calls from the base of the stairs.
I nod to him, grateful for the out. I push through the small circle they’ve created around me, clapping my hand on Cam’s shoulder as I pass. “Bus is out in ten. I’ll see you guys on it.”
“Perfect.”, “Thank you.”, “We’ll be there.”, they tell me as a whole.
“I’m getting some mother-friggin’-cotton candy!” Greer shouts excitedly.
I’m laughing as I descend the steps. Grant smiles when he sees it, his face relieved. “How’d it feel up there?”
“Like shit,” I tell him bluntly. “I’m pretty sure I never want to do that again.”
His face falls. “Are you serious?”
“I don’t know. I might be. Or I might not. I haven’t decided yet.”
“What a shocking turn of events.”
“I’m full of surprises. Speaking of,” I hitch my thumb over my shoulder, “we’re flying them home with us on the jet.”
“Okay… why?” he asks slowly.
“For the environment?”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yeah, it didn’t fly with them either.”
“What about the tickets we already bought them?”
“Get a refund.”
“They don’t refund plane tickets.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Give them away at the airport. Give them to somebody else.”
“Illegal and impossible.”
“I don’t know, man. Why does it matter? How much do plane tickets even cost?”
“From Seattle to New York, about three-hundred dollars.”
“Who cares?” I laugh. “That’s like nine hundred bucks. I think we can live without it.”
“Three hundred dollars for four people is twelve-hundred dollars.”
I pause, frowning. “Damn. I’m really not good with numbers.”
“I can tell, the way you’re pissing money away.”
“You need to lighten up.”
“You need to get serious,” he rebukes.
I shake my head, my face going cold. “Not tonight, Grant.”
“When?”
“After Rome, remember?”
“Are we still going to Rome?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“Because not one minute ago you told me you were pretty sure you never wanted to do another concert again. That’s why.”
“I was just talking.”
“Well, I’m listening, and what I’m hearing, what I’ve been hearing, is that you’re done.” He cocks his head, his eyes hardening. “Are you done, Ryker? ‘Cause if you are, just say it. Make that choice and we’ll go from there. I can get you back into acting or producing. Hell, you can try your hand at directing. I’ll go with you wherever you want to go, man, but you have to tell me where that is.”
“I don’t know,” I snap, losing my temper with the interrogation. With the constant pressure. “When I figure it out, I’ll tell you, but right now I don’t fucking know. Right now, I just want to get on that bus, get my shit from the hotel, and get out of Emerson. And I’m taking them with me,” I point blindly behind me to where my dance crew had been standing, “because they make me happy. They make me proud of my work for the first time in forever, so I’m holding onto that instead of dropping down into the bottom of a bottle. Okay? Is that alright with you?”
“Whatever you want to do.”
“I want to get the fuck out of here.”
He nods his head once, stepping slowly out of my way. “Then let’s get the fuck out of here.”
***
We have drinks on the plane. Champagne to celebrate whatever. A good night. Good company. It doesn’t matter. We’re all happy for our own reasons. Mine is slumped next to me in a tan leather seat, her head on my shoulder. Her glassy eyes watching the night speed by us.
I asked the stewardess to find something for her nausea. She brought back a small bottle of Dramamine and warned that they could make Greer drowsy. She wasn’t joking. Greer has been half-asleep since takeoff. But she hasn’t thrown up, so this is a win.
The rest of my crew is watching a movie on a big screen in the center of the plane. They’re laughing and snacking. Drunk and happy. It’s some comedy with a girl I met at a charity thing in Florida three years ago, but I can’t think of her name now. Kirk tried to fuck her. That’s about all I remember.
“We’re high enough to be the stars,” Greer tells me dreamily. She leans harder against my side, her thin arms wrapping around one of mine as she gazes out the window.
I grin down at the top of her head. “I think you mean see the stars.”
“No. I mean be. We are the stars. We’re high enough.”
“You got the high part right.”
“I took Dramamine, not LSD.”
“Are you drunk? How much champagne did you have?”
She giggles quietly, her body trembling with laughter. “A little lot.”
I smile, draping my hand over hers. “You’re cute when you’re smashed.”
“And you’ve got a great ass.”
“Really?” I laugh.
“You knew that, didn’t you?”
“I’ve wondered. It’s nice to know you know it.”
“Do you think I have a great ass?”
“You have a stellar ass, baby.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“That means a lot coming from you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve tapped a lot of asses.”
I pinch my brow. “Huh. Not sure how to take that. I don’t think it’s a compliment.”
“It’s not. Just a fact.”
“Oh.”
Greer yawns loudly, like a baby bear. “How much longer until we’re there?”
“Hours. You should sleep.”
“But then I’ll miss this.”
“Doesn’t matter. You hate flying.”
She shakes her head, her hair tickling my neck. “I don’t mean the flight.”
And just like that, we’re not alone anymore. It’s me, Greer, and the questions, so many of them that I feel claustrophobic for a second. I feel my blood rush and my brain try to shut down, to avoid this. All of it. I want to go possum the way I have all year and let the world sort itself out. I can check back in a week from now and see what’s up. What’s left. It’s the easy way out, but I know it’s also the coward’s way. The worst part is, I know that if I go quiet now, if I refuse to engage for even a day, Greer will be gone. And that’s something I can’t live with.
“They offered me the lead in Rendezvous,” I mumble privately. My words fall blindly in the dark cabin, landing on Greer.
She shifts underneath them. “I know.”
“How?”
“People talk. When did they offer it to you?”
“I found out two nights ago. Right before you got to Emerson.”
I realize when I answer that this is her doing the math. She’s figuring out how long I knew before I told her about it, using that number to calculate how important she is to my decision.
She is much better with numbers than I am.
Her body goes rigid against mine. “What are you going to do?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“You’ll have to let me know when you do.�
�
I snort gently. “I’m sure the whole world will know when I do.”
“Okay. I’ll find out with them then.”
Much better with numbers than I am.
I squeeze her hand in mine. “I’m thinking about you,” I whisper.
Greer hesitates. I can feel the war raging in her body. The confusion pulsing from every pore. The desire. The need. Can I give her that? Can I be what she needs? Can I be what she wants? Can I even be with her at all?
“I don’t know what to do with that,” she breathes.
I shake my head, pressing my lips to her hair. “Neither do I.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Greer
Eight days. I haven’t seen or heard from Jace in eight days.
It’s been excruciating.
When we landed in New York he arranged for a car to take us to our homes. I said goodbye to him on a dark tarmac in an obscure corner of JFK. When he kissed me, everyone saw, but it didn’t matter. Not to either of us. Not anymore. If these people haven’t realized there’s something going on with us by now, they’re not as smart as I gave them credit for. Even Grant didn’t seem upset, and I wondered if Jace’s ban on women was lifted. Was Grant confident enough that the concert did its job and would lead to a recovery of his image? Or did Grant just give up, realizing you can’t keep a guy like Jace from what he wants?
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised, his hands still on my hips. His taste still on my tongue.
I shook my head. “Please don’t. Not until you know what you’re going to do.”
“You mean about Rendezvous or about us?”
“About everything.”
He sighed heavily. “That’s a lot of shit to sort out.”
“I can wait.”
“I can’t.”
I grimaced, pushing my hands gently against his chest. He stepped back, his hands falling away from my hips. I patted his chest lightly with my palms. “You have to. I can’t handle being on the hook.”
“I’m not keeping you on the hook, Greer.”
“It feels that way.”
He opened his mouth to argue, his eyes tight, but I put up my palm to ask him to stop. My hair whipped in the wind, dancing across my eyes that pleaded with him to understand. “I know you’re not doing it on purpose to mess with me, but it’s how I feel. I’m just watching out for me. I know what I can handle and what I can’t, and I can’t handle this. I can’t handle not knowing.”
He gently ran his finger along the side of my face, tugging my wild hair from my eyes. “Are you ever going to tell me why you don’t trust people?”
“I told you, I trust you.”
“It was hard to earn. It’s easy to lose, isn’t it?”
I pinch my lips together nervously. “When you know what you want, come talk to me. I’ll be here.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Doesn’t it?”
Jace ran his hand over his mouth, his face rigid. “Will you keep the phone?”
“For now. If you want me to.”
“I do. I want to be able to get ahold of you.”
“You know where to find me.” He looked at me impatiently. I nodded. “Yes, I’ll keep the phone.”
“Good.”
“Goodbye.”
He frowned as he reached out, grabbing my arm. Pulling me to him roughly. He kissed me hard, holding my body against his in a possessive way that hurt inside my heart. When he released me, he stared down into my eyes with determination. “I’ll call you.”
That was eight days ago. Now here I am in the wings, making my way through an early Sunday show in front of empty seats, and I’m trying my hardest to stay on point. It isn’t easy. I’m all butterflies. All wonder and worry and questions I can’t answer. Only he can, and he’s not calling. But he will. I keep reminding myself of that. No matter how far away he is or how surreal our time together feels now that I’m back to my normal life, I remember him. I trust him.
At least, I’m trying to. It doesn’t come natural to me, and with every silent day that passes it gets harder.
“Meredith is here,” Mia whispers with disdain.
I start, glancing around. “Where?”
“In the audience. Toward the back.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Lane in Technical. He saw her come in. She’s sitting with John.”
“What is she doing here? She hasn’t been to the show since opening night.”
Mia shakes her head. “It can’t be good.”
My heart twists painfully, my mind flooding with possibilities. “It might be.”
“What do you mean?”
I don’t answer her. I’m too lost in thought; in images of Jace here in the wings with me. Of him on stage singing Cam’s part. Him taking a bow at the end of the night, waving to an adoring crowd as the curtain comes down. That buoyant piece of me that’s floated me through my life, over the river of shit that tried to take me under time and time again, the one that sees the sunny side of every situation because for so long the sun on my skin was the only hope I had; it refuses to be quiet. It’s small and excited. It’s watching the shadows, wishing I could check my phone, wondering if Jace is here. Did he decide to take the job? He could save the entire show. All of our jobs. My future.
Or Mia could be right. This could be bad news. It could be more of the same. More info about our quickly dissolving jobs. More reality to face.
I’ll have to find something as a waitress until the next show comes along. Maybe I can play Wonder Woman in Time’s Square.
Who am I kidding? I’m not tall enough for that. The best I can do is a Smurf. Maybe a knock-off Elmo.
The important thing I have to remember is that I will survive this. I can be like Jace; I can look into the face of the ugly and I can outsmart it. I can survive it. I can hold onto hope and I can see reality for what it is. I don’t have to be one or the other – happy or sad. Optimistic or defeated. I can be real.
And I can never stop trying.
Mia nudges me in the back. “You’re up!” she whispers fiercely.
Fuck! I think angrily. I missed my cue.
I hurry on stage, my smile big and bright. I play it off like I didn’t just miss the intro to the final number. Cam is already out there. He’s holding Anna up high by the waist, spinning her around triumphantly. They’re getting their happy ending and it’s beautiful.
At least Cam’s real love life is doing about as well as his stage one. Once we got back from Washington, he groveled on Samantha’s doorstep for hours. He was there so long he had pizza delivered. She opened the door to find him sitting in the hall, a half-eaten pepperoni and sausage in his lap. She called him an asshole. He agreed. He told her he loved her. She told him to shut the fuck up. Then she took his pizza and went inside. But she left the door open behind her. He’s spent the night at her apartment almost every night since.
It’s good to see him happy again. It’s been a long time. Eve did a hell of a number on his heart, but he’s coping. He even offered to go see Samantha perform in Surrendered, but she told him if he ever breathed the same air as Eve again, she’d cut his balls off. He’s a smart guy. He took her at her word and has stayed away.
When the last note is sung and the curtain falls, I make a point to remember it. I know I’ll find other work eventually. I have talent. Loads of it, if you listen to Cam and Jace. But this was my first job. My first taste of the theater, and I’ve loved every second of it. The hours of rehearsals, the endless time in the makeup chair, the pain of performing even when you’re dog tired and you aren’t sure you can keep going. It’s love that keeps you motivated. Love of the cast, love of the lights, love of the music and the story and the exhilarating feel of transporting a sea of seventeen-hundred people to another place. There’s nothing else in the world like it, and I’ll end up broke on the streets again before I give it up.
This is my new sky. This is worth fighting m
yself bloody for.
Immediately after the curtain closes to a weak smattering of applause, John appears on the stage. He gathers everyone together around him in a circle. He looks odd. Chaotic as usual, his hair running in every direction, but his face is… bright, I guess is the only way to describe it. I’ve never seen it before so I don’t understand it. I definitely don’t trust it.
“We’re having a meeting on stage in an hour,” he tells us. “Get cleaned up, changed, and get back here. Fill the front rows. Meredith and I need to speak with you all.”
“What’s happening?” Kaitlin, another girl in the ensemble, asks.
John ignores her. “One hour!”
An hour later and the theater is emptied of anyone not affiliated with the production. We’re all here, from Technical to our leads. We chatter quietly as we wait for John and Meredith to show up, but they keep us waiting an extra twenty minutes. By the time they take the stage, we’re all antsy as hell. Rumors are flying through the crew, and more than once I hear Jace’s name mentioned in whispers. Murmurs that make my stomach turn anxiously.
John claps his hands together. Several people jump around me, startled by the sudden sound, their nerves frayed. “Thank you for waiting.”
“We have an announcement regarding the run of the play,” Meredith speaks over him. She steps ahead of him on the stage so she’s partially blocking him. Her pinched face looks down at us imperiously and I realize taking the stage was her idea, not John’s. She wanted us looking up at her, the center of attention. “As you all know, we’ve been struggling as of late. It began with the loss of Eve Sanders and has continued with the lackluster performances ever since.”
“Catty ass bitch,” Bryce mutters angrily behind me.
“But, with a bit of good news I received only this afternoon, that’s coming to an end.”
I shift in my seat, unable to hold still. My heart is flying in my chest, my blood tingling, popping like champagne bubbles at thirty-thousand feet.
“We’ve been released from our lease with the theater,” Meredith continues coolly. “Another show is desperate for the space and has bought us out. Tonight was the last performance of Rendezvous.”
The room is silent. Stunned. We all stare at Meredith for a good three seconds before anyone is able to react. Even then, my mind is still trying to catch up.