by Tracey Ward
Jace isn’t here. He isn’t saving the show.
He didn’t choose me.
I feel lost for a second. Like I’m not sure what planet I’m on, let alone what’s happening in the room around me. As far as I know, it’s collapsed in on itself like a dying star and we’re all dust in the void. That’s what it feels like. Cold and empty. Forgotten.
“How is that good news?” Cam demands for us all.
“We’ve been losing money for months, the lease on the theater was the only force keeping us in action. We had to make what money we could or drop farther into the red. Now that we’re released from that obligation, you’re all free to pursue other opportunities.”
Bryce snorts. “You mean we’re all fired.”
Meredith scowls at him. “See it as you like. The result is the same. Rendezvous is being shut down, effective immediately. You can go home tonight, but tomorrow you’ll need to clear out your things.”
“How long do we have until the other show takes over the space?”
“Effective immediately,” she repeats. “I expect you all here tomorrow. John informs me there will be a sort of celebration or goodbye party. Lunch will be provided.”
“What show is taking over?” Mia asks curiously.
Meredith ignores her. She’s already leaving the stage, heading toward the exit. We all watch in silence. We wait for the bang! of the heavy metal door closing behind her before we react.
It’s chaos.
“John, is this really happening?”
“Will you try to take the show off-Broadway?”
“Will we be paid through the month?”
John comes to the edge of the stage. He sits down, his feet hanging over the floor, his face surprisingly calm. We’re all quiet, waiting for what he’ll say.
“First of all,” he says softly, his eyes on the tips of his shoes, “let me say how much I’ve loved working with all of you. This show was a long shot, a leap of faith that you all took with me, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that. I’ve had a lot of shows, a lot of successes, but this one…” he hesitates, his eyes rising to search our rapt faces. “This one has been different. It’s a farewell for me. That brings me to my second point, and the answer to a lot of your questions. I’m retiring as a director. I’m leaving the business and I can’t think of a better crew to sign off with. Thank you for all of your hard work. All of you.”
No one moves. We barely breathe. In the years we’ve known him, John has done little more than yell at us on a daily basis. He’s never once praised a single one of us. He’s never offered thanks for extra hours and effort. We always felt like there was more we could do, higher heights we could reach, because he never let us get comfortable. Never let us settle. Every performance was a new chance to prove ourselves. To improve. It seemed harsh at first, but now I see it for what it was. It was his way of bringing out the very best in us. His way of pushing us past our limits to something even better. It was his way of making the show the best it could be. Something we could all be proud of.
It seems unfair that I always thought of him as an asshole for it. That only now that it’s over do I realize how grateful I should be.
John smacks his palms gently on his thighs, inhaling sharply. “And that’s that. That’s my monologue.”
He stands abruptly.
Anna does too, as though pulled by strings to follow him. “What do we do now?”
John looks at her blankly. “You go home. You sleep. You come back in the morning to clear out of the theater. And then you begin again because this is what theater is; a living, breathing, changeable thing. It will never be tomorrow what you knew yesterday. It moves forward or it dies, and so will you.”
With that, John leaves the theater through the same door as Meredith. And just like with Meredith, we listen for the bang! telling us he’s gone.
Telling us Rendezvous is really over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jace
When my car pulls up to the curb in front of the theater, they’re already stripping the name off the marquis. Most of the letters are gone, leaving only Rend in place. It feels kind of appropriate.
The doors are propped open, people coming and going with equipment. They’re loading it into big, white trucks with no markings on the side. Non-descript voids for this world to vanish into. I wonder where they’ll take it all. Do they save the props? Who owns them? Is there a storage unit somewhere with pieces of theatrical history stored away and forgotten? A tail from Cats. A ticking heart from The Wizard of Oz. Or do they dump it all in the East River and start fresh with the next show?
I’ve got a lot of question. A lot to learn.
I’m excited to get started.
“You were supposed to call her,” Grant reminds me. “She’s gonna be pissed that you didn’t keep your word.”
I look at him hard. “Thanks for that.”
“I’m just telling it like it is. You’re in trouble.”
I roll my tongue in my mouth, debating his point. “I won’t be in trouble for long. I wanted to talk to her in person. That’s the only reason I didn’t call.”
“That’s a technicality.”
“People have gotten away with murder on less.”
Grant chuckles quietly. “I wouldn’t compare your crime to murder. That’ll only fan the flames.”
“She’ll forgive me,” I tell him confidently.
But if I’m so confident, why is my heart skipping beats? Why haven’t I gotten out of the car yet?
Grant leans across me, pushing open my door. “Let’s find out.”
I run my hand through my hair, steeling myself. One deep breath and I’m out the door onto the sidewalk. It’s early. There aren’t many people out yet. Just a few pedestrians and the crew pacing in and out of the theater with fresh loads of everything. They glance at me. Some do a double take. One stops in their tracks, his eyes wide with shock.
I smile at him warmly. “Morning.”
“You’re Jace Ryker,” he replies breathlessly.
“For better or worse. What’s your name?”
“Lane.”
“Lane, good to meet you.”
“Yeah… y-you too.”
I gesture to the open theater doors. “Do you know if Greer Madsen is in there?”
He nods numbly, his mouth hanging half-open. “I just saw her on the stage. She’s got her bag packed. I think she’s about to leave.”
I walk past him, patting him firmly on the back. “Thanks, man.”
“No problem. Jace.”
It’s weird walking into a theater in the middle of the day. All of the lights are on, the doors thrown open. The curtain is up and the backdrop is rolled away. I can see all the way into backstage with its ropes, lights, scaffolds, and pulleys. It’s like seeing a woman without makeup for the first time. This is her, the real her, and she’s just as raw and beautiful as you imagined she’d be. She still makes your stomach knot, she’s so breathtaking. I’m looking at it with new eyes, a new understanding of my role in all this, and it’s amazing how much a new perspective can change everything.
I slow as I approach the stage. It’s flooded with people coming and going, pushing carts and pulling forklifts full of equipment. Greer is in the middle of it, fresh and classic in blue jeans and a soft white T-shirt. Black flip flops and pink toe nails that match the color of her lips. Cam is with her along with a few other faces I recognize from the cast. They’re laughing. They’re hugging. One girl is crying, and I suddenly feel guilty being here. I had the chance to stop this, to try to save them from this obvious goodbye, but I didn’t. I had to make the choice that was right for me. Not the one everyone else needed me to make. It’s a hard lesson for me to learn. One I’m still struggling with.
Coming here today is a huge step in the right direction.
Cam notices me as I reach the edge of the stage. He stops, staring for a second, before blindly tapping Greer on the shoulder. She turns to him wi
th a smile on her face before following his gaze. Her smile falters when she sees me.
“Holy shit,” she mutters.
I grin, my stomach loosening for the first time in days. “It’s good to see you too.”
She shakes her head, her green eyes wide and wondering.
Cam quickly turns to the group surrounding them. “Let’s go you guys.”
“Is that Jace Ryker?” someone asks in amazement.
“Yep. And he’s here to see Greer, so let’s all go over there in the corner and pretend we can’t hear them. Now.”
They shuffle away as a whole. I see them go out of the corner of my eye, but I’m watching Greer. I’m trying to read her. She’s not giving me much.
I nod to the steps. “Can I come up?”
Her mouth straightens into a hard line. “You can do whatever you want. You’re Jace Ryker, remember?”
“You’re mad.”
She doesn’t reply. She doesn’t deny it, either.
I put one foot on the bottom step. “Before I come up there, can I get clarification on why exactly you’re mad?”
“Take a guess.”
“I didn’t call.”
“Winner,” she says wryly.
“Is that the only reason?”
“Are there more reasons that I should know about?”
I take the rest of the steps in quick stride. I come within five feet of her before I stop. “I didn’t take the offer for the lead,” I tell her quietly, careful not to let everyone else hear. “That might be one.”
Greer shakes her head. “I’m not mad about that. I was hoping you’d do it, but it was selfish. I thought that if you took it, it would mean that—that you—”
“That I was staying in New York,” I finish for her. “It would mean I was staying here for you.”
“Yeah,” she says softly. Sadly.
I take a step closer. “I’m not going to stay in New York for you.”
She flinches like she’s taken a hit. “Okay.”
“I’m staying in New York for us.”
“You’re staying for…” her eyes search mine. “You’re staying?”
“I’m staying.”
“For us?”
I smile. “For us.”
“For how long?”
“Indefinitely. I’m buying an apartment. I’m not selling the one I’ve got in L.A., but I’m setting up roots here. I’ve got work to do in both cities.” I take another step closer. “I’m giving up on touring and the album. I’m done with it for good. I’m sick of being in the spotlight. That’s why I couldn’t say yes to the role in Rendezvous, even though I wanted to. I wanted to do it to help you. To be with you.”
Greer shakes her head. “I wouldn’t want you to, not like that. You’d be miserable.”
“And that’s why I didn’t. I’m working on making decisions for myself. I’m trying to get my life to a place where I’m happy with it, not surviving it. Somewhere I can make room for more. For you.”
Her mouth flickers, the corners darting up eagerly. She tempers it, holding her hopeful smile at bay, but it’s in her eyes as she takes a step toward me. We’re almost touching now. Her body is so close I can feel her heat. I can smell her perfume; purple as the day in the hall when she danced for me and I got my first taste of something sweet. Something worth wanting.
“I don’t take up much room,” she jokes quietly.
I grin. “You’re bigger than you realize.”
“I’m going to try not to be offended by that.”
“I mean you’re more important to me than you know.”
She takes a steadying breath, her smile breaking loose. It curves on her lips, filling the apples in her cheeks. Red delicious. “What work are you doing in New York?”
“I’m doing what you told me to do. I’m writing a play.”
“Really?”
“Really. Not alone,” I clarify modestly. “I have no idea how to do it. I’m working with a writing team, Kale and Nugent.”
“Aren’t they the ones who wrote Incidental Intersection.”
“Yeah, and it’s kicking ass. I’m hoping they can help me figure out how to do that. It’s only been a few days but we’ve already got about half the book written and three of the songs are roughed out. It’s not much, but it’s a start. It’s taking shape and I’m having fun with it. They’re working me around the clock. I love it. It feels good to write again without worrying about having to perform it.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
“I’m hoping you’ll be in it.”
“You’ll have to tell me when to audition.”
“I’m writing the lead for you, Greer,” I tell her seriously. “I want you and Cam to head the show. I’ve already laid that out for Kale and Nugent, and they’re on board.”
She hesitates. “I’ve never led a production before. Are you sure you want me in yours? Shouldn’t you use someone more professional?”
“I want you, Greer. You’re the only one I want.”
She searches my eyes, reading both my meanings. “I want you too,” she whispers.
“Then you’ll do—”
“I’m a runaway,” she blurts out.
I open my mouth to respond, to tell her I know, that Grant and I guessed that, but she cuts me off again.
“And a stripper.”
That I did not know.
“Oh,” I reply dumbly. My mind is racing. I’m searching for the right response, and I’m pretty sure ‘oh’ isn’t it. But it’s all I’ve got at the moment.
Greer’s eyes dart to the dark corner of the stage where Cam and the rest of the crew are still huddled. “Cam is the only other person who knows. I ran away from home when I was thirteen. My mom had left and my stepdad was a breath away from becoming abusive, so I bailed. I lived on the streets for years. I stole a lot. I hated doing it, but I was hungry. I was always hungry.” She pinches her lips together, forcing her lower lip to hold still. To hold its ground. “When I was fifteen, I lied about my age and got in at a strip club. It was shady as shit. They didn’t care if I was old enough or not. My height made me look even younger than I was. I was very popular with a certain type of client.”
My face falls. “Men looking for young girls?”
She nods slowly, blinking back tears. “There was a regular who would come in a few nights a week. He’d pay to take me to the back rooms and he’d scold me for not doing my homework or staying out too late. Then he’d tell me to bend over his knee.”
“Greer, you don’t have to tell me this,” I whisper, wishing she’d stop. My blood is boiling, my hands itching to get ahold of this guy.
“I never had sex with him,” she clarifies anxiously. “I just role-played for him. I’d let him spank me. I’d pretend to cry. Then he’d tell me to get naked. He’d tell me to call him ‘daddy’ and beg for forgiveness.”
I run my hand over my mouth, biting back on every expletive I want to spit out. But I don’t want Greer to think they’re for her. She’s obviously humiliated by what she’s telling me, and the last thing I want her to think is that it’s her fault.
“I was on center stage two years ago, dancing a routine I’d put together,” she continues, avoiding my eyes. “Cam came in. He was there with some old high school buddies for a bachelor party. I had just finished dancing when he came up and asked where I learned to dance like that. He was easy to talk to and he was nice. Totally different from the kind of guy I was used to. He came back the next night and bought dances from me, but we talked the whole time. He spent over a hundred dollars to talk to me. It blew my mind. When he came back the next night I told him everything. I told him I was homeless and camping out in a shelter when I could get a spot. He invited me to come stay with him that night. No sex. Just a room.
“It was risky. For both of us. I could have robbed him. He could have raped me. But instead he made me eggs in the morning and started teaching me to sing in the afternoon. He taught me dance steps and terminology
. He was relentless. I’ve never had much faith in myself, but Cam always has.”
“Why are you telling me all of this now?”
She smiles sadly, and the surprising thing is, it’s genuine. Everything about her is real right now. Honest and unveiled. “You don’t need another scandal, and my past is scandalous. I should have told you before, but I want you to know what I am before you decide anything. If anyone finds out that I learned to dance working a greasy pole for a bunch of pedophiles, it’ll taint any show I’m in.” She lowers her head, her eyes on the stage, her hair falling like a curtain around her face. “That’s why I’ve kept it hidden. I was too ashamed to be me, so I made myself into someone else.”
I close the last of the distance between us. My hands find the sides of her face, lifting it until she’s looking up at me. Until I’m staring down at her, into those jade pools shimmering with gold. They’re open, honest, and terrified. It took a lot for her to tell me this. A lot of trust. A lot of guts.
A lot of love.
“I have to ask you one thing,” I whisper seriously. “And I need you to be completely honest with me about it. No more lies.”
She licks her lips, nodding her head faintly between my palms. “Okay.”
“Okay.” I lean down to press my forehead against hers gently. “What was your stripper name?”
Her laugh bursts across her lips, shaky and warm against my face. She brings her hands up to press them against mine. “You’re the worst, Jace Ryker.”
“And you’re the best, Jade Sparkle.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Nope.”
“Amber Rose?”
“No.”
“Krystal Chartreuse?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“No!” she chuckles.
“Ugh,” I groan, hunching down to put my arms around her waist. “You’ve gotta tell me. How can we be in a relationship if we don’t tell each other our aliases?”
She quiets, her face turning serious. “Is that what you want? Even knowing what I am?”
“What you were, and even if you wanted to start stripping again tomorrow, I’d support you. I’d never hide it. I would never hide you,” I tell her ardently. “Because I’ll be honest, I could do the writing thing with Kale and Nugent from L.A. I don’t necessarily have to be here. But I want to be. I want to be here with you. And I want to work with you. And I want to learn about the theater with you.”
