He hadn’t wanted to take it from her. He didn’t want a piece of that old part of him all tangled up with this new part that was already struggling so badly. He wondered if the ghosts from that side of his family would now rise up and haunt his dreams. It seemed like too big of a risk to take, but the look in her eyes, so sad, so hollow and dejected, made him choke down his fears. He took the number from her and told her goodbye.
Ten
“Hey, Nav,” Nigel said, poking his head into Garrett’s office. “Clark is out sick tonight. Can you come rehearse with us? Tom said it was okay.”
Garrett fought off a yawn. He hadn’t slept well. It wasn’t nightmares this time, just the fact his brain didn’t want to shut off after his visit from Lilly. He hadn’t exactly been keeping up with memorizing his lines, either. “Uh, sure,” he answered, fumbling through the things on his desk for his script. “I’ll be right there.”
“Thanks, bro,” Nigel said, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it affectionately. “Everything okay? You look a little tired.”
Garrett nodded. “Yeah, just didn’t sleep well last night.”
Nigel’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, really? And who’s the lucky...lady or man...responsible for that?”
He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “No one, Nigel. I didn’t fuck anyone last night. I promise.”
The director’s face lit up with the news. “Good. Maybe you and I could have a night together soon. What do you say?”
“Sounds good. I’ll be down to the stage in a minute, okay?” Garrett hoped Nigel would get the hint. Promising him my cock seems like a good way to get rid of him. Sure enough, Nigel practically skipped out of Garrett’s office and all the way down to the auditorium. When he was sure he was gone, Garrett opened his desk drawer and pulled out a silver flask, which he’d filled with some of the tequila Chase had brought him, claiming it was the “really good shit.”
It burned his throat going down. He still preferred vodka and whiskey over tequila, but he’d take what he could get, especially if Chase was going to have it lying around the apartment. He took another swig just to be on the safe side, then popped a mint in his mouth. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to get too close to the rest of the cast.
Nigel had the stage set up for “We Both Reached For The Gun,” which was probably his character’s most challenging scene in the entire damn show. Garrett took a deep breath as Anjuli took a seat on his thigh. In the song, Billy Flynn operates Roxie Hart like a velinquilitrist’s dummy, singing the answers to the reporters’ questions about her murder trial as if he were her.
They had only made it a few lines in when Nigel jumped up and bellowed, “Cut!” He waited for everyone to stop singing before continuing his direction. “Juli, stiffen your body like a doll. Geez. We all know you’re happy to be sitting on Garrett’s lap, but for fuck’s sake. Get in character.”
Anjuli’s mouth started to fly open in protest, but Garrett jerked her back upright like she was still his puppet. Everyone laughed. “Sorry,” he whispered in her ear. “Just trying to help out.”
She whipped her head toward him and fired back, “You reek of alcohol. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m fine, just get back in character,” he seethed, rolling his eyes. Nigel was looking directly at him, so he painted a smile on his face. “We’re ready when you are.”
Nigel glanced over to the pianist and nodded. They had a line of intro, and then started the song again. This time Anjuli was stiff as a board, making her body so heavy when Garrett moved her around, he was sure his arm would fall off by the end of the song.
The rest of the rehearsal wasn’t any better. During their ten minute break, Garrett went back to his office and took a couple more nips from his flask. He was beyond caring what Anjuli thought at that point.
As soon as they finished for the night, she glared at him, shooting daggers from her dark eyes. “I need to speak with you,” she told him in a low voice, one Nigel wouldn’t be able to make out.
Garrett turned to leave, uninterested in what she had to say. He had enough shit on his plate to deal with. He didn’t owe her anything at this point but playing Billy Flynn when and if he had to. And he thought he’d done a pretty fucking brilliant job for never having done the part before.
She grabbed ahold of his arm, just like she had a week ago, or whenever it was. He had lost track of all the days at this point. They all blurred together. He was only operating in the pre-Mara, Mara, and post-Mara eras at this point. Maybe meeting Lilly yesterday had begun a new era; he didn’t know. The only thing he was pretty sure of was that there wasn’t going to be an Anjuli era. Someday, she would be just a tiny blip in Garrett Stone’s catalog of life events.
“Let go of me,” he protested until he locked eyes with her. Those eyes. Fuck, why did they have power over him?
“Let’s go to the green room,” she murmured, still low so the rest of the cast wouldn’t overhear. She motioned with her head toward the door.
He exhaled. He would have to be a 100% real asshole to say no to those eyes, and even though he was fairly certain he was, in fact, an asshole, he wasn’t sure he was at the 100% level. Maybe 80%, he thought with an eye roll as he started to follow her. Then he realized he better hang back a few moments, or even pretend to go back to his office, then meet her in the green room. If he did go back to his office, he could finish the contents of his flask. The plan had merit.
He wished the green room door had a lock on it as he closed it behind him.
“What is your problem?” she fired at him as soon as the door clicked shut.
Great. What he really wanted to do tonight was be yelled at by some irritated lover. He didn’t even know what he’d done to upset her.
He tried to soften his voice before it came out, because it was tempting to yell right back at her. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I saw you in the rain yesterday,” she said. “Standing on the sidewalk a few blocks away from my apartment. I rolled down my window and called out to you, but you didn’t answer me. Didn’t even turn my way. I even tried to call you, but you didn’t pick up. Then later last night, I sent you a text, and you never responded to it.”
“I didn’t have my phone with me,” he said, not that he owed her an explanation.
“You haven’t looked at your phone for twenty-four hours?” Her hands were on her hips. Why was she so mad?
“Then you show up tonight reeking of liquor—again! You were drunk the last night you worked, too.”
Fuck, he was hoping she wouldn’t bring that up. His head was starting to pound from the tone of her voice. It was echoing through his skull and bouncing around with all the other voices that lived there. He shook his head to try to clear it out. The buzz he’d had for most of the night was definitely gone now.
She reached out and took his hand into hers. “Come sit with me,” she said, guiding him toward the sofa where they’d fucked only forty-eight hours before. She sank into one of the cushions, then pulled him down beside her. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.” Her voice was much softer now.
“What is your goal, exactly?” Garrett questioned, not wanting to make contact with those eyes...but he knew he’d find his answer there. He glanced up, and there it was. She cared for him. He’d seen the same look in Chase’s eyes when he talked Garrett out of driving to work drunk.
Why do people care about me? He wasn’t worth caring for. He was such a loser. Completely worthless. Just ask Clark Bowman—or even Henry Stone. He sure didn’t think his son was worth sticking around for.
“I know we don’t know each other that well, and I promised you I’m not looking for a relationship,” she said, pinning him with her dark gaze. “But despite that, I have gotten to know you a little, and I’m concerned about you, okay?”
“There’s really no need to be concerned about me,” Garrett assured her. “I’m going through some family shit.” That wasn’t a lie, at least
not after last night. “It’s no big deal.”
“But it’s driving you to drink,” she argued. “Look, my whole job is looking for signs of depression, of suicide and substance abuse. I literally make a living doing that. And I see those signs written all over your face, Garrett. I can’t stop myself from wanting to help you.”
“I don’t need any help,” he insisted. “I just have a few things to work out for myself, and I’ll be fine.”
She shook her head like she refused to believe him. She seemed ready to try another strategy when Garrett turned his body toward her and stroked his fingers down her cheek. “I really appreciate your concern, Anjuli.” He bent to place a soft kiss on her lips. He felt her body relax as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her toward his chest. She rested her head on his firm pec muscle, and for a few moments, they sat there in silence as their breathing began to sync.
Garrett laid his head back against the sofa cushion. Having her in his arms was like soaking peace into his pores. He felt that tranquility permeate his skin and be carried throughout his bloodstream. The heaviness that had been squeezing his lungs since Lilly’s appearance the night before lifted. The muscles in his neck and back—even the ones unfazed by the alcohol coursing through his veins—began to relax.
Anjuli sighed as he stroked a long fingertip down her thigh. She melted into him. He began to pull her again, simultaneously leaning back until he was horizontal on the sofa, and she was lying on top of him. His lips found hers, soft strokes at first and then deepening as his cock hardened against her. Electricity jolted through him when he thought of taking her on the sofa again. He reached down to find the hem of her shirt and began to lift it up her back and over her head when the door burst open.
“I thought I’d find you in here,” came a smooth, rich voice in a British accent.
Nigel.
Anjuli’s head popped up from Garrett’s body, then she lifted herself off him, pulling her shirt down all in one motion. Garrett turned to face Nigel’s scowl.
He began to explain himself, but all Nigel said was, “Get the fuck out of here, Nav.”
He turned to go, taking one glance back at Anjuli, who shook her head and looked away.
Getting called to the boss’s office is never a good thing, especially not when one typically worked opposite of one’s boss and never saw him. Garrett’s heart sank as he knew exactly what the purpose of the summons was. He’d tried to text Nigel the night before and plead his case, but Nigel would have none of it. He only replied, I basically got you this job, and this is how you repay me?
It wasn’t true that Nigel had gotten him the job. He had merely mentioned it was available. Garrett had applied for it without Nigel’s knowledge, but he conveniently forgot how it had actually happened. Garrett couldn’t believe this had come down to jealousy.
Nigel knew Garrett was bisexual. He knew he slept with women. Garrett was under absolutely no obligation to Nigel. But apparently he couldn’t handle sharing him with his leading lady.
Guess that means I’m no longer Billy Flynn’s understudy, Garrett thought, rolling his eyes. For what it was worth, that revelation did provide a small measure of relief. He loved the role, but he didn’t relish the understudy aspect. If he could have made it his own from the very start—not waiting in the wings for Clark Jones to be indisposed—it would have been an entirely different story.
He knocked on Tom’s door and heard a curt “Come in.” He settled himself in the chair next to Tom’s desk, feeling déjà vu. Wasn’t it just a few weeks ago that he’d sat in Mallory Tiffany’s office awaiting his execution? It certainly felt similar, even though this was just a maintenance job.
“We’ve had some reports that you’re not doing your job,” Tom said. There were no lawyers, no important theatre big wigs in attendance. Just Tom with his balding head, beady little eyes and bulbous nose. “So anyway, sorry, but we’re going to have to let you go. You’re still in your probationary period, and we have a zero tolerance policy for any kind of bullshit so... You’ll get your last check in the mail.”
That was it. No paperwork. No lecture. Just a simple, “You’re fired and get out.”
Walking out the door of the theatre to his car, Garrett hated that it almost felt normal to be let go. To be abandoned. He’d been let go, passed over, and abandoned his whole life. Why should now be any different?
“Hey, lindo, everything okay?” Chase asked, peeking into the room across the hall.
Garrett was curled up in a fetal position in his bed, clutching a bottle of vodka. “Any way you can bring me some more of this tonight?” He wasn’t too drunk to try to take advantage of his roommate’s discount at the liquor store.
“Whoa, man, did you drink all that?” Chase’s eyes enlarged after flashing to the empty bottle of vodka on the floor and then back to Garrett.
Garrett belched. “Fuck, sorry.” He scrubbed his hands across his face. “I got canned today.”
Chase’s brows crinkled as he tried to decide what to say. “Fuck, that sucks, man. What happened?”
“Long story,” Garrett shot back. “I just want to check out for a while, man. You working tonight?”
Chase nodded. “Maybe you should go for a walk or something? It’s nice out finally after all that rain we had. Maybe it would clear your head. Or you can go to the gym with me if you want? The chick who works the desk is always flirting with me. I think she’d let you in without a membership.”
I wish this dude would quit trying to help me, Garrett sneered inside his head. I’m clearly beyond help at this point. “No, man, thanks, I’ll be fine. If you could bring me another bottle of this vodka tonight after work...I’ll pay you back.”
“I’ll see,” Chase answered, though it was clear from the look on his face that he had no intention of doing so.
Garrett didn’t say anything else, so Chase added before walking away and shutting the door, “If you feel like talking about it, lindo, I’m here, okay?”
Garrett didn’t answer.
Eleven
It was the last thing she wanted. The absolute last thing. When Nigel told Anjuli that Garrett had been dismissed, it took everything she had not to storm off the stage and out of the theatre for good.
But the way Nigel looked at her held her back. He took her hand and said, “I’m so sorry, Juli. It wasn’t just because of what happened with you. There were some other issues too. He was showing up drunk and had been for a while. So please don’t blame yourself. We really need you to focus on your role. Opening night is only a couple weeks away. Clark is back tonight, and I want to see lots of energy from you two, okay? I think Garrett was distracting you, anyway.”
He was offering any excuse he could to alleviate her guilt, but it was still there, strong as ever. Maybe I was distracted, she considered, pulling in a deep breath of air, trying to ground herself. Maybe it will be better this way. She had been thinking more about what was going to happen after rehearsal than actual rehearsal. That wasn’t fair to Nigel. It wasn’t fair to Clark or Sabrina, the sweet girl who was playing Velma. It wasn’t fair to anyone in the cast.
I have to suck it up and move on, she decided. The show must go on.
She hated that she was just going through the motions at work. Ever since Garrett had walked out of the green room two nights before, she had been thinking about what she should say to him—if anything. She finally decided and sent him a text. But just like her other texts, the ones she’d sent when they were on good terms, it was ignored.
“Who pissed in your Cheerios?” Scott asked as they sat down at their table in the breakroom.
She had to suppress a little giggle. Scott was one of only two people she knew who could always cheer her up. Scott and Mishti. She’d had a brief glimmer of joy the night before when she’d gotten to speak with her daughter for a few uninterrupted minutes. She rarely had time for phone conversations anymore. It was always a quick text here and there.
“Sorry, I’v
e been having kind of a shitty week,” Anjuli confessed to her colleague.
“Yeah, I can tell,” he replied, a concerned smile tilting his lips.
“Oh yeah? How so?” She was curious. She thought she’d done a pretty good job pulling up her big girl panties and putting on a brave face. Maybe she wasn’t as good of an actress as she thought.
“Well, first off, you have your hair in a bun. You only do that when you mean business,” Scott revealed.
She scoffed, “That’s not true! It usually just means I haven’t washed my hair.”
He laughed. “And you have bags under your eyes. But—most telling—you’re missing that dopey grin you get on your face when you’ve been up late entertaining gentlemen callers, you know what I mean?”
“So you’re saying it looks like I haven’t gotten laid lately?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Shows what you know. It’s only been...well, only a few days now.”
“What happened to your maintenance guy?” he questioned.
She immediately tensed. She was hoping he’d forgotten that conversation, but alas, Scott had the memory of an elephant. He’d often bring up references she herself forgot making. And he was always the most coveted teammate whenever she and the other doctors went out to the local pub for trivia night.
“Uh, oh, trouble in janitorial paradise?” He grinned at her.
“He got fired,” she confessed, then watched his eyes grow in shock. “Ugh, please. I don’t really even want to talk about it.”
“Did you get him fired, Juli?” he pressed. “Come on. I want to hear the truth!”
She fidgeted in her chair for a moment, uncrossing and then re-crossing her legs. “Maybe.”
“Oh, I see a bit of a wicked gleam in your eyes, hot stuff,” he teased her. “Come on, you can tell me. Who else keeps all your secrets locked up tight in the vault?”
The Navigator (Mountains Series Book 5) Page 10
