By Referral Only

by Lyla Payne

  I sped across town, pushing the speed limits as much as I dared in an effort not to piss off the man with serious Broadway connections. One more speeding ticket and my dad’s head was going to spin off into another dimension, not to mention he’d promised he wouldn’t pay a lawyer, but make me go to court instead. That would be real waste of a day.

  When I traded the muggy Florida August for the air-conditioned costume room, the clock on my phone said I’d made it with a minute to spare. The space was functional, with white walls, linoleum floors, and three large cutting and sewing tables in the middle surrounded by racks and racks of clothing. Shelves of hats, wigs, shoes, suspenders, feather boas, and a plethora of other accessories stacked against the back wall. I loved it in here, actually. It felt like I could slip into a hundred different bodies, be anyone I chose.

  I could be happy, sad, in love, a murderer…but at the end of the day, I could hang the feelings up with my costume and leave their troubles behind. Ruby’s troubles stayed.

  Shae, the girl in charge of costume design and wardrobe, didn’t look up from her sewing machine, but pointed a finger back toward the door. “Geoff wants to see you first.”

  My stomach tightened. I hadn’t done anything wrong that I knew of, and his feedback had all been positive and constructive, but those six words made me question my instincts.

  The steps back downstairs seemed to go on forever under my shaky legs. Geoff’s office was backstage, situated under the lofted costume room, and stayed completely bare but for his cluttered desk and metal folding chair. It always made me hold my breath, the idea that he could pack up and leave inside of five minutes and never look back.

  He glanced up when I rapped on the open door, then went back to scratching notes inside a bound script. “Just a sec.”

  I loitered in the doorway, feeling awkward, but there wasn’t a second chair. Geoff didn’t believe in private chats and he wasn’t the casting couch type. He tossed the script aside after another couple of notations, then waved me closer.

  “I have an opportunity for you.”

  His typical get-to-the-point personality unknotted my stomach and relieved the tension balling between my shoulder blades. “What are you thinking?”

  “You’re a talented actress, Ruby, and unlike most of these artsy idiots, you’re also good with people. I’m on the board of directors at a local children’s theatre, and they’re doing a Shakespeare session with their advanced students. I know how you love it, and wanted to ask you first if you’d be willing to work with the kids.”

  “What does that entail, exactly?” And why would I want to do that?

  I kept that thought private, knowing he would take it the wrong way. I didn’t hate kids or anything, but between classes, West Side Story, and my DE duties, my calendar was already full to bursting.

  “It’s a two-week session, so it will end before we open, which will be good, and you’ll still have time to prep for the fall production at Whitman. The curriculum is already set—we’ve picked out certain scenes from different plays, because honestly, a lot of ol’ Willie’s stuff isn’t appropriate for fifth-graders—so you’ll demonstrate, then work with them on understanding the words, facial expressions, projecting, characterization, all of that. Nothing too stressful.”

  “Okay…”

  He gave me a wry smile that said he heard my earlier unasked question. “You should work on your offstage acting skills, Ruby. If you want to know what’s in it for you, the board of directors includes a couple of very influential casting directors out of Miami, and a couple more that work steadily in New York. It’s a great networking opportunity for a girl with Broadway ambitions, and it’s always good to have people like you both on and offstage.”

  Excitement replaced my original lack of enthusiasm. Connections were half the battle, and as long as I’d be there anyway, introducing a new generation of kids to Shakespeare started to sound like a worthwhile cause. I nodded. “Sounds good. When do I start?”

  “Are you busy this afternoon?”

  I ran my calendar quickly through my head. “No, I guess not.”

  “Here.” He handed me a business card with an address. “They’re expecting you at four.”

  “You were sure I’d agree?”

  “You’re smart, and also, you’re not as shallow as you seem to enjoy letting people think. That will be all.” He dismissed me with the words, tugging a different script toward him and grabbing his pencil.

  I backed out, unable to stop my happiness at the fact that he’d thought of me—he must think I have a real shot at continuing my career after college. His parting words bothered me, though. The fact that he saw through my carefully forged smokescreen scared me.

  I shook off my worry. Geoff had a way of really seeing people. It made him a great director, being able to judge talent in the face of nerves or an off day. Normal people weren’t so intuitive.

  When I stepped through the door to the costume room a second time, Shae tossed a calf-length powder blue dress at me, then pointed me toward the makeshift fitting rooms. There were two, created by pulling racks together and draping them with sheets, providing questionable privacy. Modesty and acting didn’t really mix, anyway.

  The “room” next door revealed a shadow that had to be Liam—tall and lean, but ripped—pulling on a long-sleeved shirt and doing the buttons. My fingers itched to reach through the barrier and undo them, but instead I took my time changing out of my shorts and tank top, then sliding the dress over my head. Just in case I had an audience in him, too.

  Liam waited outside the dressing room, his thick, honey brown hair tousled from changing clothes and his chocolate eyes trained on me. They slid down over my chest and hips, then back up to my face, a heat in them that hadn’t been there until now.

  My heart pounded but I hid it with a sardonic smile. “How’s the dress fit?”

  “I’m not interested in the dress, honestly.”

  The suggestion was clear, and even though the sudden shift in his attitude made me wonder at why, I didn’t question it. Maybe he had just broken up with a girlfriend or something.

  I raised a playful eyebrow, feeling very much in my element now that he’d broken down and shown the interest that had been too long coming, given the chemistry between us onstage. “Oh?”

  He winked. “What did Geoff want?”

  “He wants me to help out at a children’s theatre for a Shakespeare section.”

  “Gross. You going to do it?”

  “Yep. Maybe you should come. I could teach you a few things.”

  A cocky smile spread his lips. “I don’t recall any complaints last summer.”

  “True, but it’s always good to keep those skills nice and sharp.”

  “You can put my skills to the test anytime, pretty girl.”

  “Guys, hurry up! I have to pick up my kid at daycare but I need to make sure those fit today,” Shae called from the front of the room.

  I brushed past Liam, letting my hips swing and sidling closer than necessary. Excitement flushed my cheeks at our exchange, and the way he looked at me. Maybe my patience was about to be rewarded after all.

  Shae picked over my dress, which fit a little tight but otherwise fine. It actually pressed my boobs up and gave me a little cleavage, which was nice, and the color set off my tan and eyes. Liam looked every inch the clean-cut Tony in his pressed khakis and navy blue button-down, but he’d always had a glint in his dark eyes that promised he wasn’t clean-cut at all.

  Shae dismissed us twenty minutes later, after sticking a few pins in my hem and choosing a tie for Liam’s costume, and the two of us headed back to the dressing area. I waited until we’d gone to separate sides of the curtains and he’d stripped off his shirt before making a move.

  “Liam? This dress has a tricky clasp at the back…any chance you could help me out of it?”

  He paused, then took a moment to hang up his shirt. Liam had been a working actor longer than I had, and had even d
one some commercials and day parts on a few police procedurals, so he knew that pissing off the behind-the-scenes players was a big no-no.

  Shae hated ironing. She would have ripped into him if that shirt had ended up wrinkled.

  A moment later he shoved the curtain aside and stepped into my space, letting it fall behind him until we were both bathed in shadows. Windows let natural light into the room up front, but allowed only suggestions of sunshine back here, in beams that quivered weakly around dancing particles of dust.

  “It’s at the back of my neck.” I spun around, putting my back to him and hiding my smile.

  Liam stepped closer, brushing my hair out of the way with confident hands, then flicked open the easy metal clasp at the base of my neck. He didn’t stop there, tugging the zipper all the way down and pushing the flimsy material off my shoulders until it landed in a puddle at my feet. Thank goodness I’d grabbed matching underwear today, even if they were just plain white lace.

  His boldness sent shivers running over my exposed skin and my grin widened. I loved a good-natured power struggle; maybe Liam would be a match in more ways than one. Without hesitating, I spun around and planted my hands on my hips, lifting my chin to him, intent on offering a smart remark.

  There wasn’t time, as it turned out, before he wrapped his hands around my upper arms tight enough to hold me still, then bent and pressed his lips against mine. It wasn’t gentle or hesitant, but then again, we’d done this before—just with more clothes and an audience.

  I pushed onto my tiptoes, shoving my hands into his thick hair and tugging on the shaggy mop. The feeling of my chest pressed against his set off tactile shivers that only made me want to get closer. Maria would never have been so bold, but this afternoon I wasn’t her. Our tongues tangled, pushing and trying to outmaneuver each other as our breathing grew ragged.

  His hands ran down my sides until they wrapped around my back, pulling me forward so my stomach pressed against the proof that I hadn’t imagined his attraction to me all of these weeks. The months of celibacy made not undoing his pants and taking care of things here and now a monumental task, but I didn’t want to screw him once in a makeshift dressing room and then have things go back to the way they were.

  I might not have been willing to put my heart out there again, but I’d figured out pretty quickly after Michael that one night stands were a waste of energy. It took time to find a rhythm in any kind of relationship, and I’d settled on flings—a nice middle ground that allowed me distance but didn’t require entering a nunnery until graduation.

  Choosing the guy had become an art. It had to be someone easy to walk away from.

  I couldn’t resist a little further exploration through his costume khakis, and the hard outline in my palm made my stomach heat to an unbearable degree. Liam groaned against my lips, sliding his hands up to play with the clasp on my bra. I broke the kiss then, letting him go and taking a slight step away, as much to stop myself as him.

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “What’s wrong?”

  “Not a thing. I just…” I motioned to the surroundings. “Not exactly the place.”

  “Well, Ruby Cotton. I had you pegged as an adventurous sort.”

  “Play your cards right and you’ll have the chance to find out.”

  Lust crawled back into his eyes, burning as he raked my still mostly naked form. My skin tingled as his gaze traveled head to toe.

  “Let it never be said Liam Greene doesn’t do his duty when you ask for help out of your clothes. I’d love to help you out of the rest of them.”

  “I can see that.” I smiled playfully, then reached over and grabbed my shorts, sliding them easily over my hips. “Go get dressed. We should do something.”

  “Like?” A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

  Liam had a strong jaw and a nose with a little bend in the bridge, giving him a bit of a rough appearance. Handsome in a way that could make teenaged girls swoon at magazine covers, and more masculine than movie star Flynn. Out of all the actors and actresses I’d worked with over the years, Liam was one that wouldn’t surprise me if he made it big.

  But that didn’t mean I’d cut him any slack. Hot or not, he needed to man up and take charge. Where was the enterprising guy who had dropped my dress without a word?

  “Seriously, Liam. We’ve been dancing around this for months and then you finally make a move for whatever reason…you’re the man. Ask me out.”

  I sure as hell wasn’t going to beg him, but I wasn’t going to bang him right here and then never talk about it again, either. We still had to work together.

  “Are you busy tonight? We could grab some food and hang out at my place. It’s Bogie month on TCM and I kind of wanted to catch Maltese Falcon.”

  “Sure. That sounds fun, but I have a thing first. I’ll call you after.” He stared at me while I pulled on my tank top, until I shoved him backward. “Show’s over, guy. Go change.”

  Chapter 4

  The Coterie Theatre was small but cozy, with a box office and lobby area stuffed with tables and comfortable couches, the walls painted bright colors and spotted with vibrant posters depicting various stage plays. The chatter and laughter of children floated through the closed wooden doors leading into the theatre, and it grew louder when I pulled them open.

  Coterie wasn’t an afterschool program or a way to rehab troubled youth. The kids here had a genuine interest in acting and performance—or their parents insisted they had one, anyway.

  Not that it looked that way at the moment.

  I was a little jealous of the fifteen or twenty fifth-graders racing around the glossy wooden stage, laughing and shrieking. Acting hadn’t come into my life until high school, and then only in the high school play variety. My parents had been too busy by then to help me figure out what acting meant or how I could do more of it.

  A harried-looking woman attempted to corral the students playing tag along the stage apron, probably so she wouldn’t be sued when they fell off and cracked their little skulls. Her hair slumped to the side of her head in a messy ponytail secured with a couple of ink pens, and she wore ripped jeans and a Whitman t-shirt.

  I was surprised to recognize her as I drew closer—she was one of my theatre profs. Her eyes met mine the same moment, and relief flooded her face as she smiled. “Ruby, wonderful. We’re ready to get started, as soon as the changelings morph back into human children.”

  Seeing professors outside of campus never got less weird. Doctor Paladino never appeared this relaxed at the front of a classroom; she favored tailored suits, five-hundred-dollar heels, and fancy French twists. She looked almost normal today.

  “Hi, Doctor Paladino. What do you want me to do?”

  “First, the kids call me Miss Amy, so you’d better go with that, or just Amy. Second, get up on stage and get their attention.”

  Being an only child, I didn’t know that much about talking to kids, never mind getting them to listen when they looked like a massive, writhing tornado. I half expected a cow or Myra Gulch to go flying past.

  The fear turned out to be unfounded, because as soon as I hopped up and sat on the apron, legs dangling toward the floor, they all paused to inspect the new blood. The ones in the auditorium settled into chairs, and the ones that had been running dropped to their butts, scooting closer and looking between Doctor Paladino—Amy—and me for information.

  She clapped her hands, grinning at her students. “Everyone, we have a very special guest for the next two weeks. This is Miss Ruby, and she’s a very talented actress. She’s in a play that Mister Geoff is directing right now.”

  “Hi, Miss Ruby,” the kids intoned, curiosity shining in their eyes.

  “Hi,” I said, feeling awkward. Being addressed en masse was freaky.

  “Today starts our lesson on a man named William Shakespeare. How many of you have heard of him? Raise your hands.”

  Most of the hands went up, and Amy raised her eyebrows in surprise. The girl sitting nex
t to me, who had two missing teeth and dark blonde hair that reached past her waist, spoke up.

  “Come on, Miss Amy. We watch movies.” Her sarcastic tone made even me envious. She might as well have just said duh.

  “Thank you for the clarification, as always, Caroline.”

  I bit back a giggle. If the kids were like Caroline, maybe this would be fun.

  “We’re going to start with a scene from Romeo and Juliet, which is one of Shakespeare’s most famous plays, but since it hasn’t been made into a movie since before most of you were born, you probably haven’t heard of it.” She crossed her eyes at Caroline, who giggled. “We’re going to do a scene from the end, where Juliet dies, and then we’ll discuss what tragedy means. Tomorrow we’ll do a comedy.” She looked at me. “Ruby, would you please take Juliet’s role?”

  I nodded and stood, brushing stage dust off the butt of my shorts, and looked around. A fainting couch stood in the center of the stage and I headed for it, knowing Juliet had pretty much nothing to do in this scene except look pretty and dead.

  “Do you need a script, Ruby?”

  “No, I’ve got it.”

  One of the boys stared at me from under thick black lashes, his brown skin shining under the lights. “You know all the words?”

  “This is my favorite play.”

  Caroline made a face. “Shakespeare words are weird.”

  “Only at first. Once you say them like they came out of your heart, they make sense.” I sat down on the couch and surveyed the group. There were eighteen kids, and only six of them were boys. “Who will be my Romeo, then?”

  “I’m going to have to do it, I’m afraid,” Amy said, climbing the steps. “Sometimes Evan helps out, but he couldn’t make it today.”

  Evan Price was another junior theatre major at Whitman. Decent actor but a total ass.

  I lay back on the couch and closed my eyes, assuming we were starting at the part where Romeo comes into the tomb and verifies that his young wife has supposedly expired.

  “Miss Amy, you can’t be a boy!”