by Gigi Blume
“I don’t understand.”
“I know Will Darcy. He’ll do everything in his power to poison Bing’s mind against Jane if he feels like it. And Bing is just enough of a follower to believe him.” I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head furiously. I couldn’t imagine Bing would ever hurt Jane. Jorge noticed the protest in my body language and quickly amended, “I’m sorry. Bing seems to really like your friend. I hope I’m wrong.”
I didn’t know whether to be grateful or angry. Surely, Jorge had good intentions, but with him in such proximity, Will Darcy was the furthest thing from my mind. Clearly, the feeling wasn’t mutual.
“You think about him a lot, don’t you?” I said, more of a comment than a question.
“How can I not?” he cried. “He has his claws in every corner of my life—you, your friend, even Stella.”
His face was contorted into something a little less beautiful but still magnificent, like the fury of a tropical storm or a raging sea.
“That new choreographer you have…”
“Colin?”
“He works for Rosings,” he spat. “Did you know that the founder of Rosings is a shareholder of Darcy’s production company? Will is practically engaged to her granddaughter. He’s everywhere. I can’t get away from his influence.”
I was speechless for the duration of several tense moments. I didn’t know what to say. There was certainly nothing I could do about it. With any luck, Jorge would get through the run of Pirates, and Will would be back to filming his stupid movies. Also—practically engaged? Why did that suddenly bother me so much? I wondered if Caroline knew about that juicy tidbit.
Jorge tossed his head from side to side and looked down at his shoes with a sigh.
“I’m sorry,” he bade softly. “I just can’t lose this job.” After a lengthy pause, he exhaled a profound breath he had been holding and plastered a forced smile on his tragically gorgeous face. And running a paw through his mane, he declared lightly, “Ah! You don’t want to hear about my financial woes. I seem to always spill my heart out when I’m with you. What is it about you, Beth short for Elizabeth sometimes Lizzie but never Eliza?”
I shrugged, feeling rather like a bartender in a bad movie. “Maybe I just have that effect on people.”
He smiled tenderly and closed his hand over mine.
“You certainly have that effect on me.” He winked and placed a sweet kiss over my knuckles. I felt my bones turn to butter before he withdrew the warmth of his touch and slid into his truck. He closed the door between us like an exclamation point on the distance he asserted in our friendship. His faucet ran hot and cold—this was the cold side of him and in the end, that was all it would ever be.
10
Any Savage Can Dance
Beth
Thanksgiving week was upon us, and we would only have Monday and Tuesday to rehearse before a five-day weekend. Jorge wasn’t there either day, nor was he returning my texts. I started to worry his fears were founded in truth—that perhaps Will had him fired after all. But Denny assured me he was just out of town for the holiday.
“He’s probably surfing in Cabo,” he said dismissively. “He said he’ll be back next week.”
This was confirmed by the head set designer when I inquired after Jorge in the scene shop. He didn’t know any details but told me Jorge had some personal business to attend to. He didn’t seem alarmed at all, so I took his cue to feel likewise. Besides, I had my own discord with Will to endure.
“Guess who ‘gets’ to marry the Pirate King at the end of the play?” I said with as much sarcasm I could muster. I vented to Charlotte who’d brought me lunch from the lodge. We hadn’t spent much time together since I started Pirates rehearsals, so I suggested she visit me at the theatre on my lunch break. I was also craving a Lord Byron Reuben sandwich, so that was a bonus.
Charlotte squeezed ketchup all over the French fries and shrugged as I ranted. “I don’t know. Jane?”
“Jane!?” No. Jane marries Bing in the end. I mean, their characters marry each other.”
“Well, thanks for the spoiler.”
“It’s a classic. Charlotte, everybody knows Frederic marries Mabel.”
“All right. So, who marries the Pirate King?”
“Me, Charlotte. Me. And I have to kiss him. Colin is doing the pairs choreography after lunch.”
“So?”
She was completely engrossed in meticulously laying out her makeshift picnic. That was Charlotte for you. Control freak. A place for everything and everything in its place—even a hamburger wrapper.
“You haven’t been listening to me all these weeks, have you?”
“Not really, no.”
She unapologetically took a bite from her cheeseburger.
“Charlotte!” I cried. “The Pirate King is played by Will Darcy.”
She set down her burger and wiped secret sauce from her chin with a napkin.
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” she said rather seriously. “If I were you, I’d take advantage of the opportunity. You’re playing opposite of an uber-famous movie star. Capitalize on the publicity you could gain from this.”
She smiled and pierced into the French fries with a plastic fork. “Who knows? You might even end up liking the guy.”
“That would be the worst thing that could possibly happen to me,” I said. “Especially since I swore to hate his guts for all eternity.”
“All I’m saying, Lizzie,” she warned, “is don’t burn your bridges. This might be the key to get what you’ve always wanted. Don’t let one bad apple spoil the whole bunch.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She dabbed her mouth with a flimsy one-ply napkin and gave me the serious Charlotte face. “I know why you never audition for screen work anymore.”
“I don’t audition for screen work because I prefer the theatre.”
“You’re a good actress but a terrible liar,” she said. “So don’t try improv.”
“Okaaaay.”
“That was just one incident, Beth. One incident that’s totally forgotten by now.”
I wasn’t interested in hashing up my past while eating a Reuben in the theatre parking lot. My reaction gave her pause, so she did her best to drop the subject, but not before sneaking in one more thing.
“I didn’t want to bring up your ex, but you’re not letting it go. All I’m saying is don’t let your bad experience ruin your opinion of all Hollywood types.”
Her advice made a lot of sense in theory. But in practice, it was a disaster waiting to happen. Why should Will Darcy be any different than all the rest of the Hollywood slime balls I’d encountered? And I was the lucky girl who had to dance with him.
I didn’t know why Colin decided lifts were the best choice to choreograph right after lunch, but the Reuben sandwich and fries sitting cozily in my belly might have made a good argument against it. After reviewing the moves from the morning session in which pirates chased the Stanley sisters all over the stage, Colin paired each of the girls with their mate. The pirates would capture all the sisters and have their ways with us until the appearance of Major General Stanley. This whole encounter consisted of only ninety seconds of the song, but Colin wasn’t one for simplicity. Oh no. The sequence consisted of a series of complicated lifts, flips, and an array of acrobatic aerials. Once the vignettes were established, he had each couple or small group work independently.
He took Will and me into the lobby and said, “Have I got something special for you.”
He clapped his hands together, actually expecting we’d be as excited as he was, and he explained our choreography.
“Beth, you will run stage right away from a group of pirates where Will is waiting to catch you. Now, Will, stretch out your arm and catch Beth.”
I swallowed my pride and ran into Will as instructed. He reached for my hips to stop me, and the skin of his hands seared through my spandex pants. We immediately recoiled from one anothe
r.
“No, no, no.” Colin waved his arms wildly. “Catch her, dip her, and then kiss her.”
Oh, the things we do to entertain the masses.
My eyes locked onto Will’s. We were sharing the same thought. Dread. I took a fortifying breath and ran into him once more. He caught me, dipped me…and held me there for a long, uncomfortable moment, staring into my face. He held me there so long, I started to get a cramp in my side.
“Kiss her.”
Will and I turned our heads toward Colin at the same time. Did we really need to practice the kiss? It was only a choreography rehearsal. Right?
The cramp in my side jabbed with more force, and I jerked my body in the most ungraceful way imaginable, falling onto Will’s shoes. Colin turned his eyes to the ceiling and huffed.
“Again. Do it right this time.”
Sheesh. Did the term learning curve mean anything to this guy? I picked myself off the floor and repeated the sequence again. Will’s hands were strong and sure as he caught me. They were of such an impressive size, they almost wrapped completely around my waist. His thumbs grazed unintentionally along the skin where my t-shirt met my yoga pants. The sensation sent a shockwave through my veins. I was acutely aware of each nuance of his touch, and I hoped and prayed he didn’t notice. Somehow, the rational part of my brain no longer sent signals to the rest of my traitorous body. The fact he was undeniably gorgeous momentarily shut down every ounce of logic I possessed. It was a natural reaction. One I expediently shoved down. I wasn’t some semelparous animal, after all.
He faltered in the dip for just one moment. It was hardly perceptible, and most likely we were the only ones who noticed, but it was there. A slight hesitation. Because we both knew what was next. When his lips pressed onto mine, my heart galloped unwittingly. His lips were soft and warm, and the stubble of his afternoon shadow grazed against my skin. In that miniscule moment, our eyes met, and I could almost guarantee he looked horrified.
Was it the sauerkraut in my Reuben?
Colin clapped his hands to hurry us along. “Now throw her over your shoulder.” Will and I were both so flustered, we dumbly went along with it. He picked me up like I weighed nothing at all and perched me over his shoulder. The next bit was more complicated. It was basically an acrobatic lift in which I ended up suspended over his head.
My job was to keep my body (and core) very stiff, otherwise we’d both topple over. Needless to say, we toppled over quite a few times. To compound the difficulty, all this was to be done while singing the lovely operatic score by Gilbert and Sullivan. My sandwich tumbled resentfully in my stomach.
When Colin left us to practice the dance on our own, Charlotte’s words rang in my memory like a Bieber song on repeat. Make the most of the opportunity. Be nice to the guy. Don’t burn the Frau Schmidt bridge. I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t even want to be in the same room with him. I was at first resolved to speak as little as possible and get the Von Trapp out of there, but the little devil in me thought it might aggravate him all the more if I coaxed him into conversation. It was one way to let him know I was aware of his dirty games with Jorge. I thought it best to begin with a benign subject and work my way from there, and so, I made a cheeky observation about the choreography. He made a short reply, not giving me a hint to whether he agreed with me or not and then fell into a lengthy silence. He was incorrigible.
“It’s your turn to make small talk now,” I said after I fell on the floor for the twentieth time. “I commented on the dance, so you should say something about the size of the stage or how poorly the pirates are paired with the maidens.”
Then he did something I’d never thought I’d see. He smiled at me. It was the beginning of a laugh that didn’t reach his vocal chords. There was mirth in his eyes as they flickered to meet mine, and he openly surveyed my form on the floor like he was studying me with curious amusement. He offered me his hand to lift me to my feet, which I surprised myself by accepting without protest, and in a swift motion, lifted me easily with the strength of one arm like I was made of neoprene or some other form of light plastic. He didn’t let go of my hand at first, perhaps to make sure I was steady on my feet, but I found myself pressed against his chest without the faculties of strength. My brain told my feet to move, but the traitors didn’t listen. I still wasn’t accustomed to the contact of his skin. It cemented me there in the small orbit we inhabited, and he leveled his gaze on me, saying, “As you wish.”
Did he seriously make a Princess Bride reference to me? It shook me from the gravity that held me rooted to him, and I jumped back.
“That’s enough talking for now,” I said, gathering my wits. “Maybe in a few minutes, we can talk about the weather.”
I assumed the starting position and poised myself for the lift, but he placed his hands on his hips and squinted his eyes at me.
“Do you make it a habit to make small talk while dancing?”
“It would be weird if we didn’t speak at all,” I replied. “Some people might find that the more they talk the less they have to say.”
“And is that more for your benefit or mine?”
“Both, I guess. Neither one of us has a lot to say unless it’s from a script.”
That did make him laugh. “You? Not have a lot to say? I wouldn’t describe you that way at all.”
“Are you saying I’m chatty?”
“Are you saying I’m aloof?”
Yes.
“I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”
He had no other response, unwittingly proving my point, and we got back to work on the acrobatics. He was silent for quite some time, concentrating on the lifts but not seeming to find much difficulty in them. He was rather strong but not bulky—more like an athletic dancer in which he again reminded me of Gene Kelly. He obviously had some form of training. After a few sets while we were catching our breath, he opened the subject I hoped to cover.
“Do you always like to roam around the secret places in the theatre?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the other night in the costume basement, and then last week in the scene shop. This theatre has lots of interesting corners to get lost in.”
“Oh, that.”
I couldn’t have asked for a better opening. Charlotte did tell me to make the most of every opportunity, after all. I decided I would make the most out of this one and so, with a devilish smile, I said, “Yes. And I made an interesting new friend.”
I charged at him from my opening position. His reflexes responded by extending his arm as was his choreography, but instead of a flip, I toppled over him and fell hard on my butt with a painful slam.
“Leisl…” I cursed.
Will didn’t offer to help me up this time. Really, this choreo was less like a dance and more like stage combat. A dark shade of arrogance claimed his features, and his eyes were lit with flame. Talk about triggered. I hadn’t even mentioned Jorge’s name and already Will was poised to rain fury down upon me.
“Jorge Wickham,” he said through clenched teeth, “has the kind of charisma that opens lots of doors for him, and he’s fortunate to make friends everywhere he goes. Whether or not he’s capable of keeping those friends is another matter altogether.”
He didn’t wait for me to prep for the run-up. Once I was on my feet, he wrapped his hands around my waist and threw me over his shoulder. I couldn’t get the height needed for the next move and finding it exceedingly difficult to continue the conversation in this manner, I remained slung over his shoulder. His hands were dangerously close to my backside, and I found my face dangerously close to his as I held on to the hard muscles at his sides.
“He couldn’t keep your abs,” I squeaked from my upside-down position. The blood rushed to my head.
“I mean friendship.” I had to stop thinking about Will’s abs.
“He couldn’t keep your… friendship,” I continued. “Now, those doors are closed because of it.”
&nbs
p; I could feel Will’s shoulders and back tense beneath by body and with iron tension, he bent down and lowered me to my feet.
“I think we should get some water,” he said quietly. I noticed as he reached for his bottle, his entire face was washed in crimson. I hit a nerve there. How could talking about Jorge upset him that much? He was the guilty party and, by Jorge’s account, Will didn’t even care about the pain he inflicted on him. It was nothing to him—a fly on his windshield. It couldn’t have affected him the way he appeared. Perhaps calling him out on it was an injury to his pride. Heart throb Will Darcy: a handsome exterior but rotten underneath. The facts surrounding his behavior toward Jorge were unforgivable, and the anxiety Jorge expressed to me on Sunday night still rang in my ears. I was convinced there was nothing Will could say in his defense that could justify his actions.
The silence between us was thick and palpable as we drank from our water bottles. When it seemed Will had sufficiently calmed, I saw a flitter of movement around the corner. Bing and Jane were sneaking off somewhere—again. Seriously, didn’t those kids have to rehearse something? I honestly didn’t care if they got lost in the bowels of the theatre all night. I wasn’t about to go after them and get locked in the costume shop ever again. Thinking I was the only one to see their secret rendezvous, I turned to Will. That’s when I saw the lasers in his eyes searing into the back of Bing’s retreating head. His face, where it was a red flush a minute prior, was now fiercely white. His expression was a mixture of contempt, disappointment, and frustration. He appeared derailed from the present by whatever occupied his thoughts and with a conflicted aura, he turned to me and said, “I forgot what we were talking about.”
11
Red and Black
Will
This woman was messing with my head. I found myself engrossed with thoughts of her, wondering what her agenda might be, imagining her in a mini skirt, or lost in the aftershock of that kiss. A stage kiss, nothing more. I had done thousands of them.
