by Dayo Benson
I'm no Taylor Swift, but I can sing. And I started taking dance classes the week I moved to D.C. for college.
It's paid off.
The audience breaks into applause after my song.
It happens all night. The applause is wild after each of my scenes. I'm starring alongside people who travel the country, acting in stage plays. They're pretty good. The man playing the king used to perform on Broadway. He played Aladdin for years alongside celebrity females who played Jasmine.
But I've overshadowed him—all of them—all summer.
At the end of the show, my heart is burning as the stage lights dim slightly and the lights over the audience brighten. It's a familiar feeling. One that I get often.
I'm going to be an actress.
I can feel it.
I know it in my soul.
It's going to happen.
At this stage, I have so much experience and Quin is constantly saying that I'm getting too good for this scene.
I'm going to get my break very soon.
It just might be the College Life role.
We take our bows and I spot a banner. Seriously? Who has a banner in a theater?
Then I realize that my name is on it and I cringe. It's Leah and Gina. They delight in embarrassing me.
The banner says: Chloe Campbell Rocks.
I'm going to kill them.
I leave the stage with the rest of the actors. Backstage, Shrek is giving hugs—an incentive for me to get myself out of there. I hurry to the dressing room and remove my costume and makeup. Then I brush my hair and put it in a ponytail.
I have texts from Leah and Gina on my cell phone. They're going to wait for me at The Taverna, a Greek restaurant across the road. They probably want to have a meal but I need to go and see Quin.
I leave the theater via the back entrance. I decide there's no point in getting into my car. I'll walk to the restaurant, talk to my friends for a few minutes, and then come back and drive over to Quin's office.
I'm about to check my email to see if Quin has already sent details of the audition when a shadow falls over me.
I look up to see that a man has stepped into my path. A man with a portly frame and large ears.
Dumbo.
"You were good tonight," he tells me.
"Thanks." Once again, I make sure not to smile. It's best to be deliberately aloof with men like him and Shrek.
I've had more than a few advances from directors, casting crew members, camera men, and more. Nothing blatant though. Just a little show of interest. Once I give them one of my cold, unsmiling looks, they usually simmer down.
"I was here simply to watch you," Dumbo says. "I want you…"
I frown.
Dumbo chuckles. "…to play Belle."
"Right."
"You didn't think I was insinuating anything else, did you?" he asks.
"Of course not, because if you were, that would be stupid."
He steps forward. "Ah. Well, a pretty face like yours could turn any man stupid."
He takes another step closer.
"I was just leaving to meet up with friends," I tell him pointedly.
He doesn't get out of my way. Instead, he reaches out and touches my cheek.
He's worse than Shrek. And I don't think he's even been drinking.
There is no way I'm playing Belle in his theater production. No way.
"Your audition for Belle is right now," he whispers.
What?
My skin begins to crawl.
He tips my chin.
I bat his hand away. "I'm not interested in playing Belle."
"That's a shame. Well, you can still kiss me anyway."
I don't know how I don't slap the man.
"I have a waterfront condo on Fenwick Island," he tells me. "We can take my helicopter out there. Spend the weekend."
He's trying to let me know he's rich. Like that's going to sway me.
"I'm not interested."
He crowds me with his body, and I have to step back. He pushes me against the wall of the theater building.
Just then, a car drives past.
Dumbo doesn't seem to notice the car. He's single-mindedly focused on one thing right now. Me.
I push against his chest.
He doesn't budge.
His eyes are locked on me. In a lightning fast move, he clutches both my hands in one large fist and grabs my jaw with his other hand.
I'm in total shock.
He's stronger than I expected.
Panic bubbles in my chest.
Isn't there anyone around?
I need a Knight in Shining Armor, just like I was for someone else earlier.
It'd be great if some good karma came my way right about now.
I open my mouth to scream, but Dumbo clamps his lips over mine.
Just then, I hear a car door slam.
It gets Dumbo's attention too. His lips leave mine and he looks over his shoulder.
A man dressed in a knight costume is heading over.
A literal knight!
"Get your hands off her," he yells.
My heart stops.
That voice!
I heard it for the first time earlier this afternoon. The rumbly, gravelly quality is emblazoned on my senses.
It's my tawny-eyed guy from earlier. I have to say this costume is much more interesting than that brown sweater.
I can't see his face because he's wearing a helmet complete with a visor, but I know it's him. His voice is like half an octave deeper than any other man I've ever met in my entire life.
"Whatever's going on here is none of your business," Dumbo snaps. "This is my girlfriend."
"I'm not his girlfriend," I say, breaking free. "I told him I'm not interested in him."
The knight looks at me.
Then, to my complete shock, he turns and begins to run.
As he goes, he points a car key fob at a flashy car parked in the parking lot and it blinks its flashers.
"Wait!" I call, taking off after him and leaving Dumbo behind.
The knight glances back and runs faster.
"Wait," I yell.
Chapter 4
For the second time today, I'm chasing a guy—a total stranger—down the street.
I know it's him. My tawny-eyed cutie who gave me fifty dollars.
Why on earth is he running away from me? I just want to talk to him.
Why do I want to talk to him?
Uh, because he's hot, I admit to myself. And he's wearing a knight costume. I have to know why he's wearing a knight costume.
"Why are you running?" I shout.
People are looking at me.
I decide to stop chasing. I'm never going to catch up. He's even faster than that thief I chased earlier.
I wonder why he doesn't want to talk. Any normal dude would take off the helmet and say, 'Hey! We meet again.'
Maybe he's weird.
Weirdos don't only come looking like Dumbo and Shrek. Some weirdos are handsome.
Just then, I spot him again. He runs through the pool of light from a streetlight down the road.
I follow at a slower pace. The road goes on forever, and soon the crowd thins until it's just me on this pathetic quest to talk to a guy I don't know, and who doesn't want to talk to me.
I look down a street to my right as I walk, and stop. At the end of the street is a huge, manor-style house behind tall gates.
My knight is on the other side of the gates, entering the house.
I immediately run down the street and push the buzzer on the gate.
I look through the steel bars. The front yard is beautiful, with a freshly-mowed lawn and flowers in full bloom. Surprising since it's the end of September.
I push the buzzer again.
Just then, the door to the house opens and two beefy men emerge.
They stride towards the gate.
I dig into my purse and close my hand around my pepper spray. Just in case.
"Leave," one of them growls, "or I'll call 911 and have the police come and remove you from our premises."
I give them a bright smile. "Good evening to you both. Can you tell me if the man in the knight costume who is in that house has a really deep voice and brown eyes?"
Both beefy men stare at me like I'm crazy.
Maybe I am.
"Not just normal brown," I add. "Are they like…tawny?"
No response.
"Uh, could you tell me his name? Or could you tell him that the girl who got his money back—"
"Go away!" beefy guy number two roars.
My heart jerks and then begins to beat rapidly.
"Now!" he bellows again.
Sheesh! He's loud.
I can't help wondering if that's how they treat anybody who rings the buzzer or if my knight told them to come out and get rid of me.
Anyhow, I have a meeting with Quin to get to, and my two best friends are waiting for me at The Taverna.
I hold my hands up. "Okay. No need to lose it, buddy. I'll go away."
"Where've you been?" Leah asks as I join her and Gina at their table.
The restaurant is overflowing. A waiter is turning people away at the door. I got in only because I told him my friends were already inside waiting for me.
"Good question," I reply, sinking into a seat. "I don't even know where to start."
"How about from the beginning," Gina suggests, tucking her auburn hair behind her ear. I notice her hair is down, rather than in its usual ponytail. Gina is stunning, but she doesn't know it.
She pushes a glass of some colorful drink across the table to me.
It'll be a mocktail. They know I love mocktails.
I take a long swig. I'm thirsty from all the running I've done today.
Gina is giving me an amused look.
Leah lifts a brow. "Thirsty?"
I nod as I drink.
Leah's long, medium-brown hair is in glamorous waves. She's tiny and dainty with perfect features. Annoyingly gorgeous.
Even Gina, who rarely dresses up for anything, is wearing makeup tonight and her hair looks like it's been treated to a blowout.
They dressed up for this night out. It's a shame I won't be able to stay.
We all attend the same college although we have different majors. We've lived together since sophomore year. We didn't kill each other that first year, so we decided to continue living together.
I set down my drink. "Before I tell you my tale, I should let you know I have to leave in like ten minutes. I have a meeting with Quin."
"It's after nine," Leah says.
"Well, I have a second audition for College Life, so I guess he considers it worth his while to wait for me."
Gina's jaw drops. "I thought you said there were hundreds of people there and you didn't think you'd get through."
"They whittled it down to just two. I'm one of the two."
Leah squeals and hugs me.
This is the reaction I wanted from my fiancé—sans squeal of course, since he's a guy.
Leah pulls away from me, her smile wide. "Well, Gina and I were just saying that something had better happen soon or we might have to take matters into our hands."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"There are lots of different ways to launch a successful career."
Gina snorts with laughter and then quickly tries to contain herself.
I narrow my gaze at Leah. "What are you talking about?"
Leah giggles. "Tell her, Gina."
"Sex tape," Gina says.
I almost choke up my mocktail. "I'm glad I know you, my supposedly Christian friends, are joking."
Leah gives me a wide-eyed innocent look. "Of course we are."
Leah and I have a lot in common. We both grew up in the south, and we were both raised by single parents. In her case it was her dad. Her mom died when she was young.
My dad isn't dead. He just left. My mom has no idea where he is. They were never married anyway. They were both eighteen when I was born.
"Who would I shoot it with anyway?" I ask them. "Timothy?"
Gina rolls her eyes. "Nah. That would be boring. I think people would actually pay not to see that. We could find an unsuspecting celebrity."
"Right. There are lots of unsuspecting celebrities just hanging around Washington D.C., waiting to be ensnared by me. I'll tell you what there are lots of: Shreks and Dumbos."
Gina makes a face. "Shrek struck again?"
"Who's Dumbo?" Leah asks.
"Let me start from the beginning," I tell them.
I launch into what happened at the ATM this afternoon. Soon, they're both in stitches. I know that what I did was dangerous, but I'm pretty proud of myself.
"Did you think you were in a movie?" Gina asks. "Could you hear music in your ears while you were chasing the thief?"
"I'll bet she brandished her pepper spray like it was a loaded gun," Leah adds, giggling.
"Well, it gets better," I tell them, "because the dude whose money was grabbed caught up and he was the hottest thing this side of the equator. I practically needed a defibrillator after looking into his eyes."
Gina lifts her brows. "You noticed a guy?"
"He was pure hotness. There's no way I couldn't have noticed him." I feel my face heating and I have absolutely no idea why.
Gina's brows lift higher. "Move up so that Chloe can sit directly under the air-conditioner vent," she says to Leah. "She's burning up. The dude must have been something if simply talking about him is getting her all hot and bothered."
"What was so special about his eyes?" Leah askes.
"They were a tawny brown color," I reply.
"Tawny brown?" Leah asks.
"Right. She can't just say 'brown'," Gina says. "They're 'tawny' brown."
"You do realize that, if you revert to poetic words when describing someone, it's a sign of being totally smitten," Leah says.
"She doesn't revert to poetic words when talking about Timothy," Gina whispers loudly to Leah.
"Did Mr. Tawny Eyes ask for your number, by any chance?" Leah asks, quickly steering the conversation away from Timothy.
I appreciate it. She knows I haven't been in the mood to talk about him or our engagement since I got back from home last weekend. Timothy asked me to come home for his mom's birthday. But it wasn't his mom's birthday. He just wanted to propose.
Leah makes a face. She's probably remembered that I'm engaged, so I can't give guys my number.
She's engaged, too. Andrew, her fiancé, is pretty much the ideal man. He's a total hunk and a solid Christian who's been a youth pastor since he was eighteen. And, of course, he plays the guitar, writes songs, and can sing.
"He wouldn't have asked for her number since she's wearing an engagement ring," Gina says.
I decide not to tell them I wasn't actually wearing the ring at the time. "He did give me fifty dollars for my efforts," I say instead. "But that's not the end of the story."
I tell them about Shrek introducing me to Dumbo before the show, about Dumbo trying to force himself on me after the show, and about my knight saving the day.
They both looked disgusted as I tell them about Dumbo. But once I mention the knight, their eyes light up—until I tell them I chased him down the street.
Leah looked embarrassed for me.
Gina looks like she doesn't know whether to laugh or give me a shake.
"You chased him down the street?" she asks. "You didn't even know whether it was definitely Mr. Tawny Eyes. It could have been anybody under that costume."
"I'd know that deep voice anywhere."
Gina looks even more incredulous. "Uh, in case you haven't noticed, most dudes have deep voices. And why are you so sure you would recognize his voice when you only just met him today?"
"I know it was him. I wonder why he was wearing a knight costume."
/> "Maybe he's an actor," Leah says. "Just like you." She pauses. "Or maybe he was going to a party. You say he went into a big house?"
"Yeah. He left his car in the parking lot by the Olympia. I guess there was nowhere to park by that house. It was a really flashy car."
"This Mr. Tawny Eyes must have been something," Gina says. "Did you take a picture of him?"
Leah frowns. "Why would she take a picture of a stranger in the street?"
"She said he was hot."
"Right. So it's perfectly normal to go around taking pictures of hot guys?"
"Why not? If he consents."
Leah looks at me. "What we've always suspected has officially been confirmed: Gina is missing some crucial cells in her gray matter."
Before I can giggle, she points a finger in my face. "And so are you. Chasing a man down the street because he has a deep voice is just…strange."
I glance at my watch. "I'd better go. Quin is waiting."
"Try not to chase any more men today," Gina says.
"I'll try."
I leave and head back to the theater to get my car. Mr. Tawny Eyes' car is still there. It's a sporty, silver beauty. I've never seen anything like it in real life. He must be pretty loaded.
I resist the urge to take down his number plate. Leah has already accused me of being strange. And, like Gina said, I don't know for sure if it was him.
But I strongly believe that it was.
When I walk into Quin's office forty-five minutes later, I let out an involuntary gasp that has Quin spinning around in his executive chair to frown at me.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
I stare at his computer screen, totally freaked out.
On his screen is an image of a smiling man with a familiar pair of brown eyes that I'm now certain are going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
I blink to make sure my eyes aren't just playing tricks on me.
Quin turns his head slowly to look at his computer screen.
"Who's that?" I ask.
Quin quickly closes the image. "Another of my clients," he says casually.
"What's his name?"
"I can't tell you that. Sorry."
"I met him today. Who is he? Is he an actor?"
Quin shakes his head and then points at the seat on the other side of his table. "I have twenty minutes. If I don't get home before eleven, my girl is probably going to start throwing my clothes out the window."
