“And you’re not Sam, so things could be a lot worse for me.” He ducked inside the taxi and she stepped around the door and slid in beside him.
He gave the driver the address and turned his head to her. “Sam got me locked on a rooftop in the rain for two hours after he forgot I wouldn’t be able to see the plaque with the security code to the fire stairs written on it. He left me in a supermarket queue that didn’t move anywhere because the cashier had gone on a break and I didn’t see the next aisle sign. He got off a train without me once and I ended up five suburbs from where I was supposed to be. And he set me up with his cousin.”
“His cousin?”
“Yeah, that was the worst. She was a Star Wars fan and wanted me to do Darth Vader all night.” Damon breathed a couple of Darth Vader breaths and the cabbie’s eyes came up in the rear-view.
Georgia laughed. “I don’t have any cousins so you’re safe with me.” His hand was on the seat close to her thigh. It would be easy to put hers over his and tell him she’d never leave him on a rooftop or waiting for help that didn’t come. But she shouldn’t be thinking like that. Not only did she not need that in her life, neither did he.
“He forgets.” Damon laughed, talking about Sam again. He looked towards the front of the taxi. “It’s like the fact I’m blind continually surprises him. He always feels bad when he screws up, but it’s safer for me if I avoid his help.”
“I could screw up tonight.”
“Yeah, so could I.”
“I mean, I’m not sure how to be your eyes.”
“You tell me what you see, what you think I need to know. Anything else I need I’ll ask.”
“There has to be a trick to it. What if I babble a whole lot of unimportant stuff?”
His head flicked around. “You babble. That’s funny. I had to threaten a stop work to get you to tell me your favourite colour.”
“I’m serious.” She was also several shades of pink from the heat in her cheeks to the ugly salmon colour spreading across her chest.
“The only trick is not being self-conscious about it.”
She sighed, and that was like vinegar on hot potato chips, a burst of flavour Damon knew how to interpret.
“Nothing you can say would be wrong, Georgia.”
She looked him dead in the eyes and her heart was thumping so hard it was a wonder he couldn’t interpret that too. It was one thing to watch him from another room with a slab of glass between them; it was a lot more affecting to be alone with him and able to see the ring of darker blue in his near sightless eyes and the heavy fan of his lashes.
He had a slim scar over one brow not quite covered by a fall of his hair and another nick of jagged mended skin on his jaw. They took nothing away from his masculine beauty. If there was still glass between them she could trace those scars, put her fingers to his inky hair. In the back of the taxi all she could do was stare.
He moved his fingers across the seat till they brushed her thigh, and she jumped, her hand going out to catch his. He flipped his palm and they clasped. “Where’ve you gone?” he said.
“I’m right here.”
“I don’t think so. Tell me what’s worrying you and don’t tell me it’s none of my business. I’m asking. I want to know.”
She slipped her hand from his. “I get self-conscious about a lot of things, a lot of the time.”
He turned his head away. “We’ll be in the dark, no one will see us.”
Oh no, stupid mouth. She’d done it again. Made it sound like she was ashamed of being seen with him, rejecting him. She was self-conscious about being with him, and instead of making it easier, the fact he could barely see her made it harder. There was no logic for that, except from somewhere deep inside she wanted desperately for this man to see her and want to know her.
She put her hand down over his where it rested on the seat. “It’s not about you. I wasn’t always so awkward. I never used to be socially anxious. I want to be here with you.”
His eyes were down on their hands. He brought his head up. “You do?”
“I really do.”
He frowned. “Then I should level with you.”
Her first thought accompanying the way her stomach contracted was he’d tell her this was a joke; the equivalent of being locked on a rooftop in a raging storm. There was no experimental theatre performance, there was no need to help him out, it was all a trick, a put-up by the Avocado crew.
“I can’t pay you for tonight. It would be wrong.”
Her second thought was to stop the taxi and get out. She unclipped her seat belt and shifted forward to speak with the driver.
“I didn’t think you’d agree to come. I, ah. I. I was. Jesus, Georgia. I’m a shit. Please put your belt back on.”
This had to be bad, he’d stuttered. She stayed where she was, on the edge of the seat. She was a cliché so many times over: the brainless cheerleader, the clueless virgin, the babe in the woods, the deliberate martyr, the wronged wife, the new girl. “There really is a performance tonight?”
He dragged a hand through his hair, still wearing an expression that told her he felt guilty. “Yeah. But I’m doing it as a favour for an old friend. There is no money. I was going to pay you myself, but I can’t do that because it’s a poor excuse.”
She sat back and re-clipped her seatbelt. “For what?” She could still get out but it was worth hearing what he had to say.
“For asking you out. If I wasn’t such a dick, I’d have asked you to dinner or a movie or out dancing.”
“You wanted to ask me out?” Her mouse squeak voice was lost in the maze of how preposterous that was.
Damon rubbed his jaw. “Yeah. Is that so awful?”
“No, it’s. Um. I.”
He closed his eyes on a grunt and turned his head away.
“If I’d been sure this was a date I’d have dressed up.”
He turned back. “You’re not mad?” His voice was stretched thin too.
“I am mad. Lunatic, especially for singers, but you don’t know that yet so I need to take advantage of you before it becomes clear.” She was babbling and she didn’t care. “You said that’s what women do, well count me in. I’m lining up to take advantage of you tonight.”
His smile broke slowly. She got the sideways pull of his lips, then they flattened out and tipped up, spruiking that dimple, lifting his cheeks and crinkling the skin at the corners of his eyes. “Just tonight?”
“Are you flirting with me?”
“I’ve been trying to flirt with you since I met you.”
Under oath she’d say his eyes twinkled. But her head was shot full of wonder so she was an unreliable witness.
“How much advantage are you thinking of taking?”
Her breath shot out as an embarrassing groan.
He laughed. “And here I was worried you were shy.”
Georgia put her hands over her face. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
He laughed. He had to know what she’d just done because she’d sounded exactly like a little kid hiding behind her hands.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not all that sure how this is supposed to go either.”
She looked across at him in horror. “That can’t be right.” One of them had to be in charge and it certainly wasn’t her.
He nodded. “You’re not a hook-up, Georgia. And that’s my recent history, and when I say that I’m talking more the history part than the recent part. It’s been a dry spell. I’ve been travelling so much and it’s not easy.” He shrugged.
“I’m not a hook-up?”
“Well, unless that’s all you want to be. I, ah. Shit. Is that all you want?”
A hook-up is what she should be. She wasn’t fit to consider anything more. And Damon was so wrong for her in ways she couldn’t begin to tell him. But she wasn’t ready to go from, “Can you run that line again, please”, to having Damon touch her more intimately than his hand to her arm. She might imagine more, but she was
nowhere near as brave as her fantasy scenarios.
“I don’t want to be a hook-up. I don’t know what I want.” She was so pathetic he should stop the taxi and chuck her out.
“How about we start with friends?”
“Friends with Damon Donovan.”
He coughed out a breath.
“Oh God. I said that aloud.” She leaned forward and put her face to her knees.
“I’m pretty good with the aloud stuff.”
She sat hunched into herself while the taxi queued in traffic. The smart thing to do would be to laugh it off, pretend she was having a go at him, fall into easy banter with him like Lauren did. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to be any more too dumb to live.”
“Hey, you’re a big improvement on Sam’s cousin.”
“How?” she wailed, because there was really no way to make this worse.
Damon’s hand touched down on her shoulder and she flinched. He laughed and his breath brushed her cheek. He spoke close to her ear. “You haven’t asked me to use the force.”
11: In the Dark
Damon could smell paint, glue and Dalia’s patchouli perfume masking her body odour. She threw herself at him making him stagger backwards, Georgia’s hand flattening on his back to steady him.
“Thank you, Allah, Jehovah, Buddha, Shakespeare and Hitchcock. I can’t believe you agreed to do this, Damo.”
He laughed and hugged her solid form close. She would’ve had no sleep, no food and been running on adrenaline all day. “You’re sure I’m going to be able to do this?”
She pulled out of his hold, but snatched his jaw and gave his head a shake. “Cat got your tongue?”
He purred, then gave her a playful growl which ended in a throat clear. Cartoon cat would have his tongue but not tonight. “You do know I won’t be able to see anything.” He’d lost the sense of where Georgia was. He’d held her arm from the taxi to the warehouse but she’d moved away after Dalia’s onslaught.
“Last I heard you had a working set of ears. I’ve got cans so you can hear the stage manager and I’ll give you a runner.” She patted his arm. “You’ll be fine.”
He cast an arm out to his side, hoping Georgia might take it, then turned the other way when she didn’t. “Georgia?” She touched the back of his hand with the back of hers and it made him smile. She was so tentative when just about everyone else who knew him well, and a few who didn’t, were overly physical. He wanted that from Georgia too.
“Dalia, this is Georgia. She got sucked in to helping me out tonight.” That was putting it politely. “Georgia, Dalia Abedan, playwright, occasional actor, director, impresario, and all round hellion.”
Hands clasped, greetings were said. He took a moment to imagine what Dalia and Georgia would look like together. Dalia was a shortie and could have almost any colour hair or no hair at all. She’d had multiple facial piercings when she dated Jamie. Georgia was tall and slender, she didn’t seem to wear any jewellery, and from Lauren’s description she wasn’t likely to be flamboyant. He knew she wore jeans and a shirt with buttons, no heels. She’d wanted to wear something else once she’d known this was more than helping him out for the night.
“Director and stage manager’s name is Ed. Your runner is Jace.” Dalia stood on her toes and leaned into him, he dropped his head so she could kiss his cheek. “I love you heaps and I won’t forget this.” She pulled clear. “Wait here, Jace will come get you.” Her voice got softer as she moved away. “If I don’t see you afterwards, I’ll call.”
He turned his head towards Georgia. “She gone?”
“Yes.”
“What colour hair did she have?”
“Jelly bean purple.”
He laughed. “You tied your hair back.” He knew that from leaning close to her in the taxi.
“I didn’t want it to get in the way.”
“What would you have worn, if I hadn’t been a dick and asked you out properly?”
She made a small sound, closed mouthed. She was embarrassed. “I don’t know. I don’t have a lot of date night clothes.”
“Let me give you a tip.”
“Okay.” Said as though she thought the word tip was a pseudonym for electric shock.
“Think of it as phone sex.”
Georgia made a kitten whimper mewl.
He laughed. “I mean, imagine we were talking on the phone and I asked that question. What would you say?”
“Depending on the time of day and where I was I—” She stopped. She was so goddamn cute. “You’re telling me I should make something up?” Was she blushing, he heard wry acceptance in her voice. “Um.”
“I’m all ears.” Taylor would’ve pinched him for that.
Georgia’s breathing hummed. “I can’t do it.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not creative enough. I’m the most boring person in the world, Damon.”
He leaned his shoulder into her. “Not buying that.”
“Truly. I’m sorry. I’m so disappointing.”
She was the least disappointing, most intriguing thing in his life, but there were running feet coming their way; they were out of time.
“Damon, Georgia. I’m Jace. Come with me.”
Jace led them. He’d been well briefed by Dalia. He walked slightly ahead and kept up a commentary on where they were, what they could expect. The warehouse was an old paper mill, long abandoned. Dalia had found it and badgered the owner until he leased it to her as a home for her theatre company. Damon had helped her fund renovations with a loan she’d since paid back. Tonight the space had been converted into a set that resembled a cut in half house without the roof. The audience wouldn’t sit, they’d move from room to room following the play’s characters, standing in a viewing bay of whatever room of the makeshift house they happened to be in. They could follow any character in any order and move as often as they wanted to or stay in the one spot. The action was continuous and would go on around them.
Jace walked them through each of the rooms, where stagehands were still moving about setting up
“This is incredible.” He heard wonder in Georgia’s voice. “If you don’t look up you could believe you’re in someone’s kitchen.”
“Can I smell bread baking?”
Jace answered. “Yep, and if you’re an audience member who chooses to follow someone into the bathroom you’ll smell other things not so pleasant.”
Damon laughed. He felt Georgia’s humour in the shift of her arm. “So why does this thing need a narrator?”
“I’ll answer that.” A new voice. “I’m Ed.” Ed was not what he expected. Ed sat to pee. “Dalia thinks the performance might be too disjointed without a central storytelling function. So we have you to narrate the changes in scenes so the audience realises when something major has happened like the murder itself, but tomorrow night we do the whole thing again without the narrator and see what the audience reaction is. Whatever we get the best feedback on is what we’ll stage.”
Typically ingenious Dalia. “Where do I get my cues from?”
“I’ve got headsets for you both. Jace will stay with you on the gantry and I’ll be in your ear with the cues. You got your copy of the script?”
“Yeah.” Dalia emailed it and his dragon software read it to him. It wasn’t complicated and he’d memorised it.
“We’ve had to make some last minute changes. How do we do this?” There was a nervous edge to Ed’s voice, even over the sound of hammering, and was that a baby wailing?
“I can feed Damon his lines.”
He turned his face from Ed to Georgia. That would work. “Too easy. Is there a baby here?”
“Youngest member of the cast,” said Ed.
“Please don’t tell me the baby did it,” said Georgia.
Ed laughed. Jace said, “I’ll show you the gantry. You’ll need to wait up there after sound check.” He led them to a flight of metal stairs.
Georgia hesitated. “There’s a railing, maybe th
irty stairs, straight up, no landing.”
He reached out for the handrail, lifted his foot average step height and stubbed his toe into the edge, before landing on the step. He was right after that. He counted twenty-five and stopped. He’d lost all sense of light now. He was in a black tunnel. For a moment he froze. His eyes were open and he saw nothing, darkness whichever way he turned his head. The wall of his stomach twisted and fluttered in a sudden flare of panic, as if Lina’s moment of reckoning had chosen now to show itself.
“Damon, you okay?”
Footsteps above him ringing on the metal stairs. Concern in Georgia’s voice. If he backed out they’d cope without him because the whole narration was an experiment. But he’d be letting Dalia down and wimping out in front of Georgia. “How many more?”
“Five, six, seven.” Georgia counting. “Eight more.”
She was right in front of him when he got to the top. She put her hand over his on the railing. “It’s dark up here.”
“Damn, left my night vision goggles in the humvee.” His stomach was in full rebellion but his voice was veteran soldier steady.
She laughed softly. “It’s also narrow. I’m going to have to walk directly in front of you. Can you put your hand on my shoulder?” She didn’t wait for an answer, reached for his hand, then pivoted to face the other way.
He could easily trail his hands on the walls but he’d much rather have the contact with Georgia. He let her place his hand on her shoulder and moved after her, keeping an outstretched arm between them. “What can you see?”
“Jace’s back, but there’s more light and a little more space up ahead.”
Jace said, “We’ve set you up in two locations. A and B. From A you can see five of the rooms, from B the rest.”
“Ah. What is it you think I’m going to see?”
“Sorry, mate. Georgia and I will be able to see the action underneath us. That’s so we can cue, because a lot of it is impromptu.”
“And you want me to talk directly to members of the audience as well.”
“Yeah, like you’re the voice of God, man. Looking down on everything. Ed will feed those cues directly to you.”
He could be the god of darkness, the god of sudden crippling nausea, but that was the extent of his range tonight.
Incapable (Love Triumphs Book 3) Page 10
