A Midsummer Night's Fling (Stage Kiss Series Book 1)

by Beth Matthews

  Satisfied with her win, Judith turned from Nicola and continued into the costume room. Unable to stop herself, Nicola leaned in the doorway and watched reactions as Judith entered the shop. All of Nicola's fairy handmaidens, in their various states of hair dyeing and undress, greeted Judith with cries of delight. Judith was the director – how else were the actors going to treat her?

  Max, who was busy having his hair painted with dye by Tierney, nodded politely to Judith. Tierney, distracted by her work, also simply nodded.

  "We're taking a break while the set designer tweaks some things so I wanted to check on the hair salon operation," Judith said.

  Tierney started talking to the director about the various shades of pastel hair they'd chosen for the fairies, when in the performance schedule they would do any root-touch-ups, and other minutia of hair color.

  Uninterested, Nicola turned toward the costume shop to change into her dresses. She was still jazzed to see them and nothing Judith could say or do was going to take that away from her.

  Peter sidled through the costume shop door. He saw Nicola and waved, striding toward her with long, powerful legs. Such good genes in Max's family.

  As he walked up he kissed her cheek. "I heard you killed it as Henry V today?"

  "It was amazing, Pete."

  "Of course you were." He grinned at her, and a ball of worry inside her loosened. Peter had always been like a big brother to her, a precious friend. She hated the fact he didn't want her with Max.

  "Is Lachlan here?" Peter asked.

  She pointed. "There he sits. Admiring his new look."

  "Black hair. Huh. Man, he is pale."

  "We can't all tan in the Caribbean on a weekly basis, movie star," she said.

  "I've got some news for him." Peter tried to keep his lips in check, but the smirk on his face blossomed anyway, big and smug and delighted.

  "The movie? He got the part." She hung on Peter's arm and bounced, happy for Lachlan. He'd been a dick lately, but he was still a great actor. He deserved all the work he could get. She shoved Peter's shoulder. "Well, tell him. Tell him."

  Lachlan walked up to the two of them, perhaps having seen them watching him. He stared back and forth from Peter to Nicola, his brow creased in a frown, his face suddenly even paler. He had a small scab on his mouth and his eyelid was red and swollen. The lid might turn black along the fold beneath his brow, but other than that he had weathered the fight with Max all right. Luckily. Isabelle would have killed both men if either had seriously messed his face up a week before they opened Midsummer.

  "Peter has news for you," Nicola said.

  "What news?" Lachlan glanced at Peter, looking as if he were about to get a cancer diagnosis and not an acting part.

  Peter grabbed Lachlan by both arms. "I got you a part in my new movie. That World War II thing I was telling you about. We start filming in September."

  Lachlan swallowed. Once, twice. He slapped a hand to his mouth then ran into the bathroom in the dressing room. The fairy maidens scattered with startled squeals. Sounds of retching filled the dressing room.

  "What the fuck?" Peter said.

  Nicola's gut churned in abrupt sympathy with Lachlan's. What just happened?

  "Lachlan?" Tierney called, but she was deep in on the application to Max's hair and couldn't leave that task to check on Lachlan. She frowned at Nicola. "Do you think it was the fumes from the dye?"

  No. But Nicola nodded. "Oh, probably." She started toward the bathroom at the same time as Judith did. The older woman cast Nicola a you're not needed scowl, which Nicola ignored.

  "Lachlan?" Judith knocked on the bathroom door. "Lach, are you all right?"

  More retching then a harsh, strained voice that was barely recognizable as Lachlan's said, "Leave me alone."

  "Lachlan?" Judith said, looking startled.

  "You leave me alone."

  The hollowness in her gut growing, Nicola brushed past Judith's shoulder. "Lachlan," she murmured. "It's Nic. Can I come in?"

  A long pause followed and then, "I wouldn't recommend it, petal."

  Vanity. She rolled her eyes. "My boyfriend used to be a drunk, remember? I can handle it. Can I come in?"

  Another long pause . . . "You can."

  Nicola shot Judith a dark, suspicious glower then pushed into the bathroom.

  The stall door hung open, and Lachlan sat hunched in one corner against the wall, his knees drawn up, his face scary-pale. He tried to give her one of his usual smirks, but the expression wobbled on his face. He pressed a fist to his mouth as tears shimmered and pooled in his eyes.

  Nicola crouched next to him and touched his knee. "Are you all right?"

  A muscle in his jaw ticked, and his hand trembled as he squeezed his fist. "I look all right, don't I?"

  Sounds of furious activity and voices raised filtered through the bathroom door. Nicola ignored all that to focus on him. "This isn't the usual reaction of an actor landing a big break."

  He hung his head, the water in his eyes shimmering. "Peter's giving me a part. A wonderful part. The big break I've been waiting for." He swallowed as he dropped his head to his knees. "I did it for nothing. I did it for nothing."

  Nicola grabbed his arm. "What?"

  He drew in a ragged breath and cut his gaze over to Nicola, his face was slack, empty. "Judith is going to announce today that I'll be playing Henry V."

  Nicola's eyes prickled, with horror at Judith, with pity for him. "Oh, Lachlan. No."

  "I met her at the pub last night. I'd already had a few drinks when she showed up. She gave me to understand that Max wasn't . . . right for Henry. But I could be. She said I could show her how much I wanted the part." He huffed out a bitter laugh. "So I did. I don't have the scruples your Maxim does."

  "You wanted the part that bad?"

  "Badly enough to whore myself? I thought I did. God." He pressed a shaking hand to his eyes and squeezed the moisture from them.

  "This is why you were so awful today."

  "More or less. The sight of Maxim offends me on my best days, but today . . . Apologize to him for me, would you?"

  Nicola blinked back tears of her own. "Lachlan, I'm so sorry."

  "Ah, my blossom. Don't pity me too much. Like all the great idiots, I did this to myself."

  "We have to do something about Judith. This is wrong."

  "What can we do? We're theater folk. We sleep together all the time. There doesn't have to be a quid pro quo involved."

  "But there was. If a male director did this to his actors people would call it rape. It's sexual harassment, at the very least."

  Pressing a hand to the wall, he levered himself up. He grimaced at the toilet, flushed it with his foot then offered his hand to help her stand.

  She grunted as he hauled her to her feet. She felt heavy, weighted with this horrible new knowledge. "I'm going to Isabelle," she said.

  Keeping her arm around Lachlan's waist, the two of them stepped out of the restroom –

  To find Judith all alone in the dressing room, leaning against the doorframe into the storage area. She bestowed one of her tight, sharp little smiles on Nicola. "Isabelle, eh? And what could you possibly tell her?"

  Lachlan gritted his teeth, but he couldn't look at Judith. "The truth."

  "What," Judith said, her voice still gratingly bright, "that you and I had a few drinks and got carried away?"

  Nicola's temper snapped, and she stormed over to Judith, getting right in the older woman's face until she could smell the powder of her makeup, smell her cloying floral perfume. "You know what you did, Judith. To Lachlan and to Max."

  Judith scoffed. "Max? He's just upset because I gave Henry V to Lachlan. Anything Max says is pure spite."

  "We both know you tried to get Max flat on his back on your fucking casting couch."

  "Oh dear." Judith batted her lashes, a triumphant light in her eyes. "Max must be so confused. Not surprising considering how drunk he was the other night."

  "You
're a liar."

  Judith smirked. "I am also one of Isabelle's oldest and dearest friends. Care to wager who she'll believe?"

  Nicola's blood was zipping through her, her heart beating with the swift, sick rhythm of terror. Judith is going to get away with this.

  Sudden movement over Judith's shoulder caught Nicola's eye: Isabelle easing through the costume shop door. Nicola looked away so Judith wouldn't notice the direction of her gaze. But how much had Isabelle heard? Enough? Any of it?

  Sick in her gut, Nicola made a small be quiet motion at her side with her palm, hoping Isabelle understood the signal not to reveal herself yet. Hunching her shoulders, Nicola let her voice go bleak. "Please, Judith. Don't."

  Lachlan surged forward. "I'm bloody well going to talk."

  Nicola held her hand up, pressing her palm against his chest to keep him back from Judith. "No, Lachlan. Please. For Max. And yourself. You know what she could do to you two."

  "To all of you," Judith said, folding her arms. "Isabelle trusts me implicitly. It's too late to get you lot booted from Midsummer, but I could tell her 'Oh, I slept with Lachlan. Such a horrible mistake, Isabelle. I'm just not comfortable working with him again.' And Max, well, I'm afraid he's been drinking again, missing rehearsals – or, better yet, drunk at rehearsals. Yes, that would do." Judith's mouth crimped, and she raked a contemptuous gaze over Nicola. "And you, well, you have no talent, and you obviously can't do Shakespeare. 'No, Isabelle, I don't think we should cast that Nicola in anything ever again.'"

  Nicola wet her lips. Please let Isabelle still be there. She didn't dare look to check. "What do we have to do to avoid all that?"

  Judith snorted. "Just keep your mouth shut."

  "Judith!" With her usual flair and timing, Isabelle walked in.

  Judith whirled, and her face blanched white. "Isabelle, I – "

  Isabelle's dark eyes hardened like two chips of obsidian. "Get the fuck out of my theater."

  "I didn't – "

  "Get the fuck out or I'll let Lachlan throw you out."

  Judith wet her lips, like she planned to try again, but then with a pained look at Isabelle, Judith swept out of the dressing room. She tried to muster her usual queenly dignity for her exit, but only ended up looking stiff and scared instead.

  Isabelle slammed the door behind Judith's retreating back then fell against the wood. "Shit."

  "How did you know to come?" Nicola asked.

  "When Judith cleared the room Tierney went to get me. I've been listening through the door for a bit. God, I'm sorry I ever brought her here."

  The artistic director focused the laser beam of her attention on Lachlan, and her gaze seemed to drill into him until he shrunk against the wall. "I'm so sorry this happened to you, Lachlan. But I'm going to put the word out about her. I don't know how effective that will be, but she's for sure never working at the RSF again."

  Nicola jumped at the vehemence in Isabelle's voice. "You really believe Max and Lachlan?"

  Isabelle's mouth curled in a hurt pout. "Of course I believe you guys. I heard everything she said to you, and Max doesn't lie. I know he's not drinking again. Anyway, just look at Lachlan." She waved her hand up and down, no doubt alluding to his crumpled clothing, his ghastly pallor, his haunted eyes. "Lachlan, you're a great actor. A true talent. But even you are not this good." She shook her head. "I'm going to eviscerate Judith."

  "Good," Lachlan murmured.

  Isabelle brushed her fingertips over his arm. "Lach, I'm sorry, but after all this I can't let – you can't play Henry."

  "I know." Lachlan rubbed his palms into his eyes.

  "All right," Isabelle said, her voice throaty and low with rage. "Excuse me. I have to make sure that piece of trash is off my theater grounds."

  "Wow." Nicola swallowed. "This Midsummer production really is cursed. We're on our second Titania and our third director." It was tech week. What on earth were they going to do?

  That froze Isabelle in her tracks, and for one horrible second Nicola thought Isabelle was going to reconsider firing Judith.

  Isabelle combed her fingers through her hair. "Damn. Who could we bring in to cover tech and previews? I need to start the search for a new Henry V director. We have our summer benefit coming up. I don't have time for this."

  Nicola hesitated then said, "I have a suggestion."

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Judith had disappeared, Nicola was closeted away with Lachlan, and Max was a full-fledged blonde. Could his day get any worse?

  After Lachlan barfed and Judith had cleared out the dressing room, no one had seen the director since. Which wasn't great because they were still trying to do a full dress today, and that was difficult to do without a director. Max was worried about Lachlan too. And he was worried about what Lachlan had done.

  While waiting for Max's hair dye to set, or whatever you call it, Tierney had about chewed her fingers to bloody ends. Then, as soon as she could wash the dye out in the bathroom sink, she'd thrust Max's head under the water.

  Now Tierney had disappeared too in search of her mother, Judith, Lachlan, or anyone who could tell them what was going on.

  Max would settle for anyone who could get rehearsal going. All the actors were sprawled in the audience chairs. The four fairy handmaidens sat in a row together, their newly-pastel hair reminding him of a clutch of Easter eggs. Max rose from his own audience chair and jogged over to sit by Violet the stage manager.

  She had her cell perched on the binder with all the script pages and notes, and her gaze kept flicking to the phone. Clearly, Violet had no news from on-high either.

  "Isn't there anything we can do without Judith?" he asked her. "Practice the quick changes?"

  "Not without Tierney and the costumes."

  "Practice moving the sets around? The Amazon fight? Anything?"

  Violet grimaced. "Judith doesn't want us running anything without her here to make notes." Violet had been yet another victim of Judith's temper, and maybe she didn't want to risk the director's wrath by acting without specific instructions. But this was ridiculous. They were burning daylight and money and, most precious of all, time.

  "What about a simple line-through? Judith couldn't object to us all sitting in chairs and saying our lines, right?"

  Violet hesitated an endless minute before she said, "All right."

  She called all the actors closer, clustering them together in the front rows, and the cast ran their lines from the top of the play. No performing, just rattling off lines at about twice the speed as usual, making sure people knew the words, knew their cues. Puck and Titania were absent, but Violet read their lines and everyone else was right on point with the dialogue.

  They were two thirds through the play when Isabelle appeared. Lachlan and Nicola trailed behind her and folded themselves into two empty chairs with the rest of the cast. Lachlan was subdued but less tragic-looking. Nicola was grinning.

  The actor playing Demetrius stopped mid-line at Isabelle's entrance, and the rest of the cast stared at their artistic director with wide, worried eyes. Max swallowed, as uneasy as any of them.

  "Uh-oh." Abe shifted in his seat beside Max. "The big boss lady. This isn't good."

  "Tell me about it," Max whispered. "The last time our director disappeared and Isabelle came down to talk with us we ended up with Judith."

  "And if Judith is gone then what dickhead are we gonna end up with next?" Abe murmured.

  Isabelle pointed straight at Max then crooked her finger. "Maxim, I need to talk to you."

  ***

  After a quick talk with Isabelle in the front, Max walked toward the theater doors, blood thudding in his ears like a staccato drumbeat. His mouth was dry but his hands were clammy. The whole world was running slow, painful, some moments too loud, the next eerily silent. He pressed his palm flat to push the theater doors open. He watched Isabelle's curls bounce as she walked ahead of him down the aisle and onstage.

  I can't believe this is happening.
>
  He watched Isabelle take the stage, watched her mouth move, watched her gesture to him. " – happy with our new director."

  Someone slammed into him from the side. "I'm so proud of you!" The scent of Nicola's hair filled his senses, and her arms went around his waist. Her soft body crushed against him and her cool mouth touched his. Like a prince waking from a poisoned sleep the world seemed to reorient itself. Time moved at its normal pace, but he still clasped Nicola close – a talisman against harm as the rest of the cast poured out of their chairs, some to shake hands with him, some to slap his back.

  Lachlan muscled forward and gripped his hand, offering an apologetic grin. "You'll be brilliant, mate. Absolutely brilliant."

  "It's only for tech and previews." Max fluffed his fingers through his newly blonde hair, causing a wave of chemical smell to filter down to his nose from the disturbed follicles. His gut clenched, maybe from the chemical smell or maybe from fear. The director. I am the fucking director.

  "What is Isabelle thinking?" Max muttered.

  "Hey. None of that." Nicola squeezed his waist. "It's game on, Maxim. It's go time. You don't have the luxury of choking. We all need you too much." She beamed at him, so sunny, so happy, so damn proud, it was impossible for his fear to maintain a toe-hold.

  He gave her one last squeeze – just cuz – then let her go and clapped his hands to gain order. "All right, everyone. Violet, how much time do we have left today?"

  "Four hours."

  He pointed at Tierney. "Tee, how soon can we do the costume parade?"

  "An hour?" she said.

  "Forty-five minutes?" he countered.

  Tierney narrowed her eyes. "Fine. Fairies, rally to me!" Cackling merrily, Tierney thrust her cigarette pack into the air and led the fairy handmaidens and Lachlan out of the theater like a charging army.

  "Tell Tee I'll be along to change once everyone else has their assignments?" Max said to Nicola.

  "Affirmative." Nicola kissed his cheek then bolted after the other fairies.

  Max rubbed his palms together. "All right, Vi, let me at those production notes."

  ***

  It didn't take Tierney and the cast forty-five minutes to get all their costumes together and ready for his directorial perusal.