“Angela the angel said she saw Graham touching me inappropriately, which was true.” Ariel recalled the incident proudly, glad to have squashed Angela’s bit of drama. “I told them that naughty boy grabbed me backstage and I got him in line, which Angela didn’t really buy at first. Craig promised to have a talk with Graham about boundaries, and I gave her the speech about how I keep an open-door studio. Like anything could happen in there with the big window facing out on the street. I told her there’s often a student waiting in the mudroom. My kids are home, and parents are welcome to sit in on their kids’ lessons. That shut her down.”
“Good for you,” Rachel said as she reluctantly followed her friend into a lingerie store. She knew what was coming, and she dreaded it.
“Thanks for the heads-up, my friend. You saved my skin.” Ariel slung an arm around Rachel for a quick hug, then reached into a display of silky triangles. “Look at these V-strings, on sale, two for ten. I’d grab six of them if I were you.”
Trying not to be a curmudgeon, Rachel picked one up by the pink elastic band. “But they don’t cover anything.”
“Well, you wear clothes over them, honey. I would stay away from the lace, though. That can be itchy. You need to be comfortable.”
As if having a string between your buttocks was going to be comfortable. Rachel picked out four V-strings, avoiding the cheetah prints but allowing stripes. She had to be prepared for the prospect of being seen in her underwear for the first time in years. Her current stock of polyester or cotton briefs was starting to fail, with gummy threads bunching on the sides. Not that she would abandon her steady-eddies. But from now on she would have to wear fancy underwear for those “maybe” occasions.
“Do you like the bikinis, or do you want some thongs, too?” Ariel asked from the next multilevel display of satin patches and strings.
“I’m good here.” Rachel’s feet seemed to be glued in place by the underwear bin as Ariel zigzagged through the tables, pinching the lace trim on bras, testing the smoothness of a camisole, and holding items up for size. “So you never finished your story about Angela,” Rachel said. “What was the upshot?”
“Nothing. Craig will talk to Graham, and Angela gets to eat her words.”
“But she wasn’t making things up,” Rachel said, trying to tread delicately. “And I understand her concern. Someone who didn’t know you well might think you’re a little too physical with the guys.”
Ariel held a tiny silk dress up to her chin. “People can think anything they want. I can’t stop them.”
“But you do have a reputation to protect,” Rachel pointed out. “Maybe you want to put on a more conservative appearance. Cover the cleavage. Throw on a blazer.”
“Like a pantsuit?” Ariel puckered as if she’d just bit into a lemon.
“Maybe at school events. It wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Sorry, dear Prudence, but I’m not hiding this light under a bushel. Do I criticize you for wearing sweats and mom jeans?”
That stung. Rachel didn’t expect that kind of criticism from her friend.
“Just a thought,” Rachel said, hoping that Ariel would pay some attention to her warning. “Angela is not someone you want as an enemy.”
“I am not dressing for Angela Harrell,” Ariel said. “And you, my friend, are not allowed to buy that cotton nightshirt. When the hell would you wear that?”
“To bed.”
“No, no, no.” Ariel turned to a rack of clothes and removed a little purple-and-blue camisole. “You want something like this. Babydolls, with matching undies. Look at those cutouts!”
“It’s beautiful, but I would never be able to sleep with those spaghetti straps.”
Sighing, Ariel shook her head. “Who’s sleeping? This is all about the tease. He’ll love peeling it off you.”
“Oh, please. I am so not ready to be peeled.”
“Like a banana.” Ariel handed her the babydoll pajamas and pointed her to the fitting room. “Trust me, this is gonna be great.”
As Rachel turned away from the mirror of the dressing room and stripped down, she wondered if Ariel had any idea how cutting her remarks could be at times. Sometimes Ariel was all about herself. Suddenly, she was glad she hadn’t broken her promise to Jared and spilled the beans about Remy and him. Ariel would find out later, when the kids wanted her to know. For now, Rachel would treasure the secret.
Chapter 19
The end is always bittersweet.
Ariel felt a mixture of exhilaration and melancholy as she held court in the theater lobby during intermission, smiling as two of the moms thanked her emphatically for her craft and dedication. The floor-to-ceiling windows of the lobby’s outer wall provided a reflective surface for Ariel to turn and catch her own reflection from time to time. She saw herself radiating power and light throughout the crowded lobby, with the glimmering smile and sparkling smooth skin of a starlet on a red carpet at a Hollywood film premiere. Tonight, she was sizzling hot.
This was their last show, a Sunday matinee, and Ariel was soaking up one of the last interludes of praise from the Gleetime parents. Some of the parents appreciated the genuine progress their kids had made, while others simply enjoyed the glad-handing, being part of the inner circle of the Gleetime troupe. Patti Cronin thanked her for drawing out Matthew’s talents, and Elizabeth Gifford revealed that Tory had talked endlessly about Gleetime. And of course, there were those dads (and one mom) who enjoyed talking to Ariel’s cleavage. No offense taken. She was glad the girls still got their share of attention.
She was going to miss this—the attention, the adult conversation, the adulation. After the show closed this afternoon there would be a company party tonight, and then there would be a bit of a break until fall, when she would be back to the grindstone leading vocal exercises for the next round of Gleetime performers.
This summer, she was going to get herself back to Los Angeles for auditions. It was time to do something for herself for a change.
Traci Harper was just discussing the merits of her son’s summer job at Giant Burger when someone grabbed at Ariel’s arm.
“There you are!” The trollish voice growled as something sharp clenched over Ariel’s biceps.
Ariel swung around and came within inches of the staunch mask of Tootsie Dover’s face, puffy and immobilized from inebriation. A heavy whiff of alcohol enveloped Tootsie, and she dug her lacquered nails into the flesh of Ariel’s skin.
“Easy, Toots,” Ariel said, wrenching her arm free. The motion sent the older woman teetering back, wobbling on her high heels. She smacked a hand against the windows and braced herself there, a tipsy bacchanalian goddess.
Traci and Patti had the good grace to excuse themselves and disappear, leaving Ariel to face Tootsie on her own.
“Jesus, Tootsie. I think you broke the skin.”
“I wasn’t going to let you slip away this time. You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Not quite. I’ve been so busy with the show, I haven’t had a moment to myself.”
Tootsie tried to straighten her spine, but her head wobbled on her neck. “Your daughter should be ashamed of herself, the way she’s treating my son.”
“Last time I checked, a girl had the right to break up with her boyfriend. Remy tried to let him down easy. It’s not her fault if Cooper is taking it badly.”
“Her timing shh . . . shtinks. You know we booked the trip to Europe. Three weeks, seven countries. I can’t believe she would be so irresponsible.” Her head lolled against her shoulder until she jerked herself upright. “What am I supposed to do with her ticket now? It’s too late to get a refund.”
That old news? Ariel wanted to tell Tootsie to stick that ticket up her surgically enhanced ass. It hurt Ariel to think that her daughter might be missing out on the chance of a lifetime—a grand tour of Europe—but Remy had made her choice, and Ariel supported her daughter’s decision. “I’d say you have two choices. You can give Remy the ticket to use on her own sometime.�
�� Ariel knew Tootsie would never go for that. “Or you can have the ticket reassigned to Cooper’s next girlfriend.”
One of Tootsie’s well-painted eyebrows lifted at the prospect. Perhaps she hadn’t considered that her son might find a replacement girl.
“Or is Cooper having trouble finding another girlfriend?”
Tootsie swayed forward, catching herself against one of the windows. “Of course not.”
“Then your problem is solved.”
“My problem is solved,” Tootsie mimicked with false cheerfulness. “My son just needs to find a new fuck-buddy.”
Ariel steeled herself to keep from pouncing. “Now, now. Let’s keep it clean, Toots. This is a family event.”
“Oh, right.” To her credit, Tootsie cast a doleful look to the side, though the momentum sent her swaying again.
“Look, I’ve got to get backstage,” Ariel lied.
“Bye, then. Tell your daughter not to cry herself to sleep on prom night. I heard that she hasn’t been able to find another date.”
It felt too lame to admit that Remy was going with friends. “She has her choice of dates. It’s so hard to decide which guy to choose.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Tootsie said in a singsong voice. “Poor little Remy. No one will go near her now. Damaged goods.”
Ariel felt annoyance buzzing in her head. “What the hell?”
“You know I’m kidding.” Tootsie’s fat lips parted into a toothy, wicked grin. Despite her inebriated state, she could see that she’d gotten to Ariel, and oh how she savored it.
That bitch.
“So this is where you work your magic during the show?” Mike surveyed the vanity counter with the lit mirrors. “Nice. But I noticed you were standing in the back of the auditorium for Jared’s duet. The rain song?”
“God help me, I love that number. They do such a good job, don’t they?”
“Fantastic. Everyone sitting near me was tapping their toes in time to the music. They had the audience in the palm of their hands.”
Rachel lined up her hairbrushes as she basked in Mike’s praise. “It’s a great show this year,” she said, trying to be magnanimous in case the other kids hanging out in the green room were listening. “These kids have done an awesome job.”
Mike nodded, catching the attention of a few students. “Hey, guys. I liked that Beach Boys number. That was some getup.”
“Yeah,” Isaiah said. “I think we turned some heads.”
“You definitely got some laughs. You know, Cooper and Isaiah, I’ve seen you play football, but I didn’t know you could do this kind of stuff, too.”
“We’re like renaissance dudes,” Isaiah said.
A few girls joined them, and Mike mentioned something about the “Mr. Sandman” song. The kids seemed to enjoy talking with him, and Mike knew most of them by name. Rachel was impressed by his easy rapport.
As the kids began to gather toward the end of intermission, Mike leaned close to Rachel. “I guess I’d better get back to my seat, but I was hoping to see Jared back here. Where is he?”
“As far away from me as he can be,” she said with a small laugh. “He sort of just tolerates my involvement here.”
“Sounds typical.” Mike surveyed the room. “And what about your friend Ariel? I haven’t seen her around.”
“I really want you two to meet, but she’s all over the place right now, putting out fires and calming nerves.”
“I’ll catch her some other time.” Mike kept his voice low, discreet. She liked that. “See you after the show?”
“Meet you outside.” She had already made plans to skip the cast party and go for an early dinner with Mike. It was time to let Jared have his space while she did her own thing. She had already indulged herself in fantasies of Mike McCabe giving advice to Jared and KJ over the next few years. Finally, she had found a warm, engaging male role model for her sons to look up to. A good, kind man. Granted, she hadn’t known him long, but when things were right, you just knew.
Mike leaned closer and winked, just for her. The gesture was both old-fashioned and endearing. Watching him go, Rachel straightened her black blouse over her new candy-cane-striped bra, a purchase Ariel had insisted on. Rachel had to admit, she looked damned sexy in it. She hoped to give Mike a chance to agree.
Ariel descended the staircase leading down to the music rooms, her spiky heels echoing in the empty steel-and-concrete tomb. She paused on the landing, hating this glum prison of a school.
Gritting her teeth, she continued down, letting her footsteps hammer out her fury. To hell with it; no one else was down here.
She should have lashed out at Tootsie while she had the chance; now, the haggard lush had disappeared back into the dark auditorium, leaving Ariel smarting over the comments about Remy. It was one thing to take it on the chin yourself, quite another to endure nasty comments about one of your kids.
And Tootsie was way off the mark. Remy was adorable. She had inherited Ariel’s style and grace, and she was a much kinder person. Everyone liked Remy. She was far from a dateless reject. Couldn’t find a date! Well, she would show Tootsie Dover, and anyone else who took nasty shots at Remy.
Where the hell was he? She needed him. Now. This anger had left Ariel on edge, roiling with a passion that had to bubble over before it would subside.
It was dangerous. Risky and foolish. But weren’t the best moments in life amplified by bursts of adrenaline?
She had told him to meet her right after the Part Two opening. Once he finished the group number, there were five songs in a row that he did not appear in. He would not be missed upstairs. And this entire section of offices and rehearsal rooms was quiet as a morgue. She had realized that earlier in the week when Craig had asked her to come down to his office to work out the kink with Angela Harrell. With two walls built into the hill, this wing had been chosen to house the choir and band rooms because noise was so well absorbed underground.
Perfect.
“What do you want, woman?” he asked, cocking his head to one side with a surly look in his eyes.
So he wanted to play? Sure. He didn’t realize that she always got what she wanted. She always won.
“I think you know.” She reached for his hand, pulled it to her chest, and then tucked it into the bodice of her dress, sliding his palm over her breast.
He smiled as he cupped her, teased her. “I don’t have a lot of time,” he said.
“I know some shortcuts.” She led him into the band room and closed the door behind them, sliding a desk over to prop against the door.
“Turn the lights off,” she ordered. There was enough ambient light filtering through the slender window of the door, and it would be more exciting to take him under the cover of darkness.
She gave him some teeth when they kissed, and he answered with a thrust of his hips against her pelvis. A surge of want tugged at her when she felt him come alive for her, hard as a rock. She was already wet for him, stoked up from urgency and danger. It was a brazen violation, taking him in a classroom at the school. So bad. Adrenaline fired in her veins as she hitched up her dress and mounted him.
Scandalous.
Furious.
Frenzied.
She would show them.
Fuck them all.
Chapter 20
Monday afternoon, Cassie sat at the kitchen table scraping the last of her mac and cheese from a bowl as she checked in with Remy on things at home. “I’m sorry I missed the Spring Showcase,” she said, trying to sound sincere. Her finals had ended Friday so she actually could have made it home, but with Mom putting her fingerprints all over that production, Cassie really wasn’t that interested. “But . . . you know how crazed I’ve been with finals week.”
“I know. You missed a good show, though. This year there really weren’t any clunkers in the lineup. Well, Sage Sherer shouldn’t be allowed to sing a solo. And yesterday, in the final show, Graham Oyama went missing during the second half. Mr. Schulteis
looked like he was going to have a stroke. You know how that vein pops out in his neck when he gets mad?”
“I do. So where was Graham?”
“Probably out back smoking weed. He bolted in to the backstage area and slid onto the stage. The audience thought it was funny.”
“I bet.” Cassie pushed her bowl away and put her feet up on the kitchen chair beside her. The house felt different now that finals were over; the tension had drained from the air. Olivia, Cassie, and Ellie had the house through the summer and would be joined by three new roommates in September. “So people are clearing out of here. Amelie flies back to Denmark tonight, and Olivia’s mom picked her up yesterday, so we’ve got some empty beds. Why don’t you come visit me, Boo?”
“I can’t. There’s prom this weekend, and after that graduation. Maybe I can come in June.”
“That would work. I’m thinking about summer school.”
“Really? I thought you were coming home.”
“I’m leaning toward staying. They’ll give me longer shifts at the café. Since we have to pay rent on the house through the summer, I figured I’d make the most of it.” And avoid Ariel’s craziness. “Besides, Andrew is going to be here.”
“Well, no wonder you want to stay.”
“I don’t want to leave him.”
“Aw. So you really like him.”
“Things are going well for us.” That was putting it mildly. Actually, the real L word had been used, though Cassie wasn’t ready to share that with her sister yet. Scientifically, it seemed too soon to know she was in love, having been hooked up for only a few weeks, but what was the magic time span for knowing definitively that someone was a good match? Wasn’t it enough to crave his company, to feel her spirits lift whenever he was near, to share physical pleasure without embarrassment or awkwardness? Yes, yes, yes, she loved him, but it sounded dorky to let anyone else in on the secret right now.
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