Love and Loathing

by Gigi Blume

  I tucked my saltwater taffy safely in my corset (because who doesn’t like gooey, sticky confections in their cleavage) and joined the throng of Stanley Sisters flutter on stage for the finale.

  I’d always thought Pirates of Penzance had a hilariously bizarre and quickly resolved ending. The pirates draw their swords on General Stanley. Mabel intervenes and calls for help. The police arrive and a quickie sword fight ensues where the pirates win far too easily. But then the police captain calls upon their honor in the name of Queen Victoria. That was one of my favorite parts because in our production, a giant painting of Queen Victoria was lowered from the fly system, and all the pirates covered their hearts and knelt reverently.

  Will was down center stage, and his expression was the stuff of which campy musical gold was made. Also, he was beautiful—if you could call a man of his virility beautiful. I decided to keep my commentary to myself. But who cared? We were at the point of the show where I could get away with ogling Will until bows. It was in my blocking—sort of.

  He shifted his focus to glance at me in his peripheral vision and found me watching him unabashedly.

  Busted.

  His eyes flickered to mine, and I caught the hint of a smile. Anticipation shot through me with an electric blast. I could sense the same energy in his posture, like a runner at the starting line, just waiting for the moment in the scene where the Major General sang ‘take my daughters, all of whom are beauties,’ so he could finally claim me.

  The first thing I noticed was that he carelessly threw all our blocking and choreography out the window. He took my hand and ushered me upstage behind the waltzing pirates, police, and maidens. In fact, he completely abandoned the notion we were in the scene at all, favoring whispered words to me instead of singing the finale with the rest of the cast.

  “I have been selfish all my life,” he said in hushed tones. “I was just a spoiled kid that grew into an arrogant adult.”

  Okaaaay…

  “My point is… I’ve changed. Because of you. Because you make me want to be so much better than what I am.”

  The entire company was singing the reprise to Poor Wandering One by now. We were supposed to be next to Jane and Bing singing take heart, take mine, but there we were, hiding behind the ensemble, talking about life choices. Like it couldn’t wait—he had to tell me those things in that moment.

  But it was also perfect. So incredibly perfect, because the stage was the one place we always had a common ground. It was the one love we both held dear when we were so convinced we loathed each other. And maybe he wanted to get this confession off his chest before the really good stuff—like a kiss, for instance. So I didn’t speak as to let him finish whatever he wanted to say before the lights dimmed.

  “You’re too generous to play games with me,” he said softly. “If you still feel the same way you did on New Year’s Eve, just say the word, and I’ll let you go.”

  His hands, which clasped mine, rose to my arms instinctively as he said those words.

  I’ll let you go.

  It certainly didn’t feel like he wanted that. And neither did I. His fingers gently squeezed by arms just above the elbows. Anyone watching would think he was just the Pirate King claiming Edith as his bride. At any moment, the song would end, and we’d make our bows. The cast would disperse to greet the people who came particularly to see them. And then the theatre would empty in preparation for tomorrow’s performance. Now was the time to let him go or hold onto him forever. My eyelashes fluttered to his heavy-lidded gaze, and he swept his eyes over my features as if to cherish my image in his memory, just in case. He was so close to me, I could feel the trembling in his chest, and my heart galloped in response. I lifted my chin to study him. His gaze was ravenous yet tempered with equal parts uncertainty and hope. I wondered if I could perhaps communicate my feelings through a mere look because I didn’t think I could form the words.

  Take heart. Take mine.

  Would that suffice? Would he know I wasn’t only singing for the crowd? My delayed response must have been a small torment because he then said with a sliver of urgency, “I don’t want to let you go, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

  Aaaand he just closed the deal right there. Signed, sealed, delivered.

  “Then don’t,” I said like it was the simplest thing in the world.

  I breathed the words. There wasn’t enough air in my lungs to do more than that, let alone sing. The final note of the song was upon us, and the orchestra accelerated the tempo towards the grand conclusion. I could see Fitz waving his arms in exaggerated gestures behind a blur of dancing couples. It was the culmination of all our effort and struggles over the past two months. All the drama on and off stage.

  Will relaxed his hold on me just enough to brush one palm to my waist and the other to the nape of my neck as his thumb grazed tenderly over my cheek. My pulse raced with the tingling sensation of his touch, each molecule of his skin on mine a tiny pinprick straight to my heart.

  He dipped his head so our foreheads touched. The bridge of his nose flush against my own, and despite the extreme proximity, I could see the blurred outline of his moist eyelashes—the beginnings of soft, joyful weeping. As though suspended in time, he closed the gap between our lips and crashed into me with the most ardent of kisses.

  He was rocking my world. Not just because he was kissing me senseless, but he poured his entire soul into mine. Or maybe I was hoarding it. Nevertheless, he felt it. I could tell by the way his body quivered. Or maybe by the way he slid his arm around the small of my back and pulled me flush against him with an urgency that said, ‘I will never ever let go.’

  He needn't have worried. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  32

  Pour, Oh Pour, the Pirate Sherry

  Beth

  “Let me get this straight,” said Jane as we rushed to get out of costume. “You don’t hate Will Darcy?”

  “No.”

  “But you used to hate him?”

  “Hate is a strong word,” I corrected. “Maybe more of an extremely pointed dislike.”

  “Aaaand?” she prompted.

  I shrugged nonchalantly. “He’s nice.”

  “Hmmm,” she harrumphed. “Nice enough to kiss all through the bows.”

  She was exaggerating. It was true we hadn’t noticed when the lights went down, but Bing snapped us out of it as the bows began. So yeah, we were kind of oblivious, but not more than a handful of people noticed. Then again, Will wouldn’t let go of me for his solo bow and stole another kiss before the end. In fact, when we made our way backstage, I had to promise I’d meet him in no more than five minutes just to keep him from following me in the dressing room.

  I didn’t bother removing my stage makeup. Charlotte and Colin were waiting to congratulate us, and I knew Will wouldn’t wait much longer.

  “See you at home?” I asked, slipping into a hoodie.

  “Sure,” she replied. “I’ll chill the prosecco, and you will tell me all the details.”

  “Deal. Better make it two bottles.”

  I slipped out while she was still unpinning her hair and caught sight of Will leaning on the wall opposite my door. He had his arms and legs crossed casually, and his messenger bag slung across his chest. He looked like an Anthropologie billboard.

  “You ready to get out of here?” he coaxed.

  “Where are we going?” I asked coyly.

  He reached out without taking his back off the wall and pulled me close. So close, the tip of our noses almost touched. The scent of his spearmint gum reached my senses; he’d lodged it between his molars to give me a giant grin.

  “Anywhere,” he growled softly. “As long as we’re together.”

  I was still reeling from the kiss of a lifetime, and now the man was playing for keeps. This was really happening.

  “Hmmm… how about we start with the Patrons of the Arts reception and sneak out when no one’s looking?”

  He sighed because he knew he was ex
pected to make an appearance in the lobby. A small cocktail party was on the agenda for the most generous of patrons to meet the cast and drink overpriced champagne.

  “Stay close to me?” he bade, his eyes sweeping over my features with a wishful plea. How could a girl say no to that? Not that I would.

  “I will be the mongoose to your warthog,” I said with a grin.

  Did I watch too much National Geographic? Maybe. Did I care if he found that odd? No. Turned out he didn’t because he smiled warmly and led me by the hand to the front of the house where tall tables draped in black linen dotted much of the lobby area. Wood carved in the shape of pirate ships served as centerpieces, and a small line formed in front of a sea scene painted on a canvas backdrop for photo ops. Stella was still in costume, posing with a glamorous couple sporting tri-corn hats and the provided pirate-themed props. Champagne flute in one hand and a cutlass in the other.

  “Well, we came,” Will said. “Can I have you to myself now?”

  “Not so fast, lover boy,” Charlotte interjected.

  Lover boy?

  She was stunning in a one-shoulder jumpsuit and Colin—proudly at her side with a mouthful of whatever hors d'oeuvres they were serving. It made me remember how hungry I was.

  I gave Charlotte and Colin hugs which were followed by gushing and congratulations. Will shook hands with Colin and praised his contribution, in which Colin blushed, feigned modesty, then said, “The choreography was pretty good, wasn’t it?”

  “We couldn’t have done it without you,” I said. “Although… I’d be surprised if your boss will let you work here again.”

  “I’m afraid that was my fault,” added Will.

  Charlotte tilted her head to the side and squeezed her eyes to inquisitive slits. Colin had a similar expression but quickly amended it with the realization of what we were referring to.

  “If you’re talking about the scene Catherine de Bourgh made when she stormed out of the theatre,” he said, “I wouldn’t worry.”

  “You know about that, huh?” I asked.

  “Everybody knows about that.” He laughed. “She made a fool of herself in front of a lot of important people.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I sympathized. “If you lose your job because of me—”

  “Ha! I left the studio last week. Charlotte convinced me to start my own business.”

  He squeezed Charlotte’s arm and scrunched his nose, making pucker lips at her. It was disturbing and adorable at the same time. Charlotte was on board, so that was all that mattered.

  “Colin’s teaching tango classes at the lodge every Thursday,” she said proudly. “Dad’s not charging him, so he can save up for his own studio.”

  “That’s fantastic news,” I exclaimed. “Congratulations.”

  “Yes,” Will echoed. “Congratulations.”

  “You’ll have to come one Thursday after the show closes,” said Charlotte.

  I glanced up at Will with a questioning look. Would he be up to that sort of thing?

  He shrugged and shot me that devastating smile. “I said anywhere.”

  He did indeed. As long as we were together.

  We exchanged more hugs and handshakes with Charlotte and Colin before they took leave of us. I could tell Will was itching to call it a night—at least where this party was concerned. The anticipation played on his features like a child expecting birthday cake.

  “Why did you say the whole Catherine de Bourgh drama was your fault? I’m the one that ticked her off.”

  Will, who hadn’t let go of my hand since I exited my dressing room, lifted his free hand to my chin.

  “She waited backstage for me and chewed my head off after my solo. She told me everything. All your responses to her threats. And I laughed.”

  “That must have really chapped her hide.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a grin. “But it gave me hope. You could have said anything to appease her. But instead, you refused to promise not to be with me. I didn’t think I had a chance with you until then.”

  His eyes searched mine, and softly brushing his lips to kiss me, punctuated his sincere declaration. And for anyone in our vicinity who might have witnessed that, my inner fan girl was fist-pumping in their faces.

  Oh yeah. Who’s with this hunk? This girl!

  Satisfied we’d done our duty to make an appearance, we resolved to get to wherever anywhere was. We almost made it, too. But Stella caught us and made a desperate plea for us to stay for a moment longer.

  “I won’t keep you for very long,” she said with the hint of a slur. She wasn’t drinking champagne, I could tell that much. By the oaky aroma wafting from her snifter, my guess was tequila. She winked. “We’ll make this quick.”

  She led us into a supply closet off the ticket booth where programs and those velvet stanchion ropes were kept. As we stuffed ourselves in there, I noticed it was already occupied by two other people. Her grand-niece Emma and her director friend Jaxson. They giggled like teenagers, probably at some joke, but most likely aided by the bottle of Pyrate Rum on the shelf. Not tequila, then. When she saw me, Emma threw her arms around my neck and gave me a huge smack on the cheek.

  “You, mate, are brilliant. Why didn’t you tell me she was brilliant?”

  Stella rolled her eyes. “I did.” She held out her tumbler to Jaxson who took the bottle off the shelf and gave her a refill.

  “Ummm…” I responded. “Thank you?”

  I didn’t want to argue or anything, but I hardly thought my performance was brilliant. I only had five lines.

  Jaxson held up the bottle of rum to offer us a glass. Will and I both declined respectfully. Alcohol wasn’t a good idea on an empty stomach.

  “We really enjoyed the show,” said Jaxson, toasting his glass in the air. “Congratulations on your success.”

  Will returned the sentiment with a sincere smile and tipped an imaginary hat. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  Emma broadened her eyes at Will in surprise. I knew that look. It was the expression of someone who had the same opinion of him than I did and was maybe softened by the idea she misjudged him. Then her eyes drifted to my hand in his, and she raised a brow at Stella who returned the eyebrow wiggle with a triumphant smirk.

  “So, Beth, what does your schedule look like for the next few months?” Jaxson asked.

  “My schedule?”

  Other than reconsidering my whole life?

  Jaxson went on. “We have a project in the works, and we begin rehearsals in a week. One of the actresses we cast broke her leg. Literally.”

  “Ski accident,” chimed in Emma.

  “We were wondering if you’d consider doing a screen test.” Jaxson reached in his inside breast pocket and handed me a business card. “It’s a small part, but she has a power ballad.”

  “Think Another Suitcase in Another Hall,” said Emma. “A minor role with an iconic song.”

  “This is a musical?”

  “Isn’t this exciting?” Emma bounced on her toes, wildly clapping her hands. “The world would be a better place if only there were more movie musicals.”

  “Just doing my civic duty,” said Jaxson with a wink.

  “Okay,” I beamed. “Thank you.”

  “All right, now that’s settled…” Stella poked at mine and Will’s shoulders and ushered us toward the door. “Beth and William have to go. We’ve taken up enough of their time.”

  As she hastily pushed us out, I glanced over my shoulder at Emma, who had collapsed into Jaxson with more giggles giving me a slaphappy wave. Then Will and I were shoved out the door and the last thing I saw through the closing threshold was the wild, animated look in Stella’s eyes. The door closed with a thump, and we could hear the muffled sound of bubbling laughter seep through the wood.

  “Can we go now?” pleaded Will.

  “Yes!”

  We’d dillydallied long enough, and although I would have liked to catch a glimpse of Rita Moreno, I was so over the interruptions. Wil
l skirted the lobby perimeter in an effort to avoid more people and we were able to tuck backstage without notice.

  “That was a nice offer from Jaxson Knightly,” he said as we reached the stage door. “If you get the part, your life will change.”

  “My life has already changed,” I whispered.

  Will drank me in with his gaze with an expression filled with wonder, as though I was something entirely new.

  “I have a confession to make,” he said tentatively. He seemed suddenly nervous, like, whatever it was he had to confess gave him more apprehension than everything leading up to it. After the whole business we put ourselves through over the course of the previous months, anything else he had to say would be like a walk in the park.

  “Bring it on.”

  “Elizabeth Bennet,” he said, “I… I…”

  “Spit it out, Darcy.”

  “I… hate Bud Lite.”

  The contagious outburst of giggles finally made its way from the box office supply closet, where rum flowed like a river to my lips, and in a glow of admiration, I wrapped my arms around Will and hummed, “I know.”

  He drew me in with a squeeze.

  “But,” he posed, “I love you.”

  “I know.”

  He pulled away just enough to focus on my face with speculation.

  “Did you seriously just quote Star Wars on me?”

  “Not seriously,” I replied. “Very un-seriously.”

  “Okay.” He nodded once and fished in his jeans pocket for his car keys. I could see, even in the dim light, his Adam's apple catch in his throat as he gave me a small disheartened smile. It wasn’t my intention in the least.

  “Will?” I said, stopping him from turning to the door. “Three little words seem woefully insufficient to tell you how much I truly love you.”

  His face brightened immediately.

  “Especially,” I continued, “after all the wasted energy I spent trying to convince myself I felt the opposite. I said some dreadful things to you, and I don’t know how many thousands of I love yous it will take to make up for that.”