“Turns out the board felt their money could better be spent elsewhere.”
“That’s because most of them only think they know what it takes to get a show up. Tales bastardos barato!”
“Somehow, I don’t think learning all the cuss words was what your parents had in mind when they sent you to study abroad,” Lucas said.
“I got what I needed to from the experience. So, you’re going to keep up that crazy schedule at The Ink next season?”
“That’s the job. I’m hoping the guys that volunteer here will come over and help with the bigger shows, but I don’t feel right poaching them.”
“Looks like free time will be at a low, as usual.” Harper didn’t want to sound or behave forlorn, but it was difficult.
“The show goes on, right? There’s no such thing as theatre magic, just a bunch of folks like us having no life and getting it done.”
“Sounds like that should get printed on a t-shirt.”
He just smirked, reaching out a hand to help her up. The conversation was over. The man was a mastermind. They opted to toss all of the remaining leftovers. They shouldn't have eaten most of it, but the rest was completely unacceptable for further human consumption. Harper stayed and worked on her laptop in their shared temporary office until he was done in the shop.
Seven days later, they handed out checks to the crew and actors and locked up the space together for the last time, until the next time they saw each other around the stage.
Chapter 1
Two Years Later
Spring 2014
The theatre was in trouble. Not the typical we need to tighten the purse strings until we get the receipts from the Christmas show kind, but the door could get padlocked sort. It was the type of money trouble that kept artistic and managing directors up nights and left Harper with a knot in her stomach. She didn’t need to be there every day to be comforted by the fact that the place, indeed, carried on.
So, even though she wasn’t exactly surprised by the call, she was absolutely shaken to the core behind the reason. When had things gotten so bad? Riley, the current and only AD Harper had ever known in the role, was deeply concerned and making a last-ditch pitch to raise some matching funds, but it couldn’t wait until Christmas. The board of directors had issued an ultimatum—either the theatre raised a quarter of a million dollars or there would be no money from the city, no funds to match from their usual private donors, and their grant from the arts endowment would prove useless without all of the other funds being in place. They had never done fundraising at that level, but a lot of the theatres in town did and were very successful. Sure, big musicals brought in money, but they also cost money and a lot of it. Riley understood this better than most and specifically more than the current money man at the helm. The problem was that he was new, and she would become the sacrificial lamb if this miracle plan didn’t pan out. She had her suspicions that she still might be, and this was why Riley wanted people she could trust in the building.
“Riley, I don’t know. We circle this offer every couple of months, and I have to tell you I don’t know if it will work. Now, of all the times, is the riskiest of the request. If this goes wrong, it’s more than a few jobs on the line. You could lose the theatre.”
“Harper, I’m building a team that I trust and one I know can take the impossible and make it a guarantee.”
“No pressure there. I will seriously have to clear the deck if I’m going to do this. How can you afford this team and me if the money is all but gone?”
“I’m going to pull a little theatrical shell game of my own.”
“Should I be worried about all of us being arrested on opening night? You know I wouldn't do well in prison.”
They both had a laugh, but the way things were going in the community and theatre as a whole, it didn’t leave them many reasons to chuckle. Two theatres were closing, one executive director had been removed for skimming grant money, and even Riley, after reviving the place when she first took over, had her share of troubles with a scandal surrounding interns and her last production manager. They’d managed to keep the lid on things getting too far out of the circle by closing ranks, and Riley handled nearly every job in the theatre with a bit of freelance help per show. Harper was at the top of that hire list. Riley trusted her and wanted her in the house and on board full time, but for some reason, Harper always dodged the offer and found every reason to turn it down.
“Who’s on the team, Riley?”
Harper wasn’t interested or worried about the team as a whole. She knew whoever they were, they would be the best. That was the reputation the theatre had spent years building, and she had no reason to doubt that Riley would pick that moment to cut corners. Only the thought of one person put her stomach in knots.
“Asking what you already know the answer to, Harper?”
“Riley, que no va a querer trabajar conmigo. No conmigo a cargo. No veo cómo va a funcionar.”
“Harper! English, please. Now I know you’re worried. You don’t have to be, though.”
“He will not work with me. More importantly, he won’t work for me.”
“Why don’t you let me worry about getting the team on board? Bob’s going to write the script. This won’t just be a musical; it’ll be the musical of the season. Original material, no royalties required, an all-star cast, top designers, and you and Lucas leading the team. We need this, Harper. I need you. I can’t drive this train all on my own.”
“Things didn’t end well, and I’m pretty sure neither of us has changed enough to make it work. He has to be the boss of everything. Our history is muddy, at best. Besides, I don’t know if I’d be comfortable without us having a conversation that I’m not in much of a hurry to have.”
“Look, I’ve always wanted you on the team full time, but you kept saying no. Lucas said yes. He was in charge back then, Harper; this time will be different. You can play the boss card or work as partners, I don’t care, but I need you both.”
“Doesn’t matter what the titles say, he’ll still be the boss.” Harper mumbled the first bit under her breath. The next part was intended for human ears to hear. “Can I think about it?” Even though she asked the question, Harper knew, deep down, that she wouldn’t let the theatre or Riley down. They also had too much history.
Wandering around the living room in her condo, Harper attempted to empty her mind and make a decision. She knew she couldn’t exactly tell Riley all the reasons the arrangement wouldn’t work. In the last six months, she’d worn a path in her utilitarian beige carpeting thinking about this very topic. The room was a basic square box cut into angles by a built-in breakfast bar and a few unique built-in wall cutouts that served as bookcases and shelves for family pictures of people hardly ever seen in person, due to the craziness that was her show schedule. She straightened a picture on her way to topping off her wine glass. Emptying the bottle, because saving a half glass just seemed silly, Harper filled her lungs and closed her eyes. There was a childhood silliness that made her hope the answers would pop into her head the way they would during a surprise math quiz in school.
“Harper, are you still there?” Riley asked.
Releasing the held in air like a tiny explosion, which made her cheeks rattle, Harper answered.
“I’m here. You already know the answer, Riley. Tienes suerte de que usted y ese maldito lugar quiero tanto.”
“I don’t know what any of that means, but I love you, too. Now, let’s figure out where we’re having lunch tomorrow to work out all of the details. We’ll need to put together a gala committee and schedule separate meetings for them and the production team. I won’t lose this place without a fight, Harper. I can’t. I owe it to Connor and his memory.”
Connor Morgan had founded the theatre back when Riley was in high school. She and most of her friends on the west side of the valley gained the bulk of their training under him. When he died, he had left explicit instructions that he wanted Riley in place as the new
AD. She’d worked with him as an assistant AD until the end. The following season, she was listed in the program as the new Artistic Director.
“Then I guess we better make it spectacular.” Harper sounded more convincing than she felt as she hung up the phone.
They figured out as much as they could and made plans for a working lunch in the next two days. As soon as Harper disconnected the line, she scrolled through her contacts until she came to his name. Sip. Stare. Sip. Stare. When the last sip was a glass draining gulp, she put the phone on her coffee table, face down, and shoved the table away from her with her foot. The stupid thing was on wheels, and all her force sent it halfway across the room. Lucas Michael Mason. His name was either on the tip of her tongue or at the front of her brain. It was always a toss-up between fear that they would run into one another unexpectedly or that she might manage never to see him again. Both prospects made her want to bring up her last meal. He hadn’t made any attempts at calling her, either. She couldn’t be sure he was avoiding her, but it was evident that their last night together did not encourage him to reach out. Harper couldn’t be confident about much with a bottle of Riesling in her belly that was sitting on top of only popcorn and digestive juices.
She had twenty-four hours to ruminate over their time apart. What were they? Friends with benefits, co-workers, soul mates? She’d given up on untangling their complexities a long time ago. After pushing for more every time they came together, she had finally just stopped and exercised some of the impulse control that Lucas kept telling her she needed and that came so easily to him. When he did finally give in, and they tried having a relationship, Harper had run scared. Not right away, of course—she was too intrigued by the possibilities and what he was proposing. But when he put words into action, she fled. She knew she had committed to much more than she bargained for with Lucas. She had gotten up close and touched fire. Most days, she could brush off the burnt parts and prayed the rest of her would hold together without crumbling. How could she still love him? More importantly, how could she work with him again, after everything that was between them? Half of it was only known to her, and Harper didn’t do well with secrets. There would be more than the theatre’s fate dependent on the outcome of this gala.
She needed sleep and to come up with a plan of action. Rinsing her glass, Harper headed up to bed. This wasn’t the way she normally did things; sleeping on the couch in half of her clothes was more the standard, and the idea that she was, on some subconscious level, taking his advice stirred more emotions than she wanted to deal with before sunrise.
Not tonight, Lucas Mason, not tonight. That was her last thought as her head hit the pillow and her mind finally drifted off.
Chapter 2
Spring 2014
It was a typical Arizona day in April. It meant enjoying the last few outside days before the flesh melting temperatures began. Lunch at an outdoor cafe wasn’t only possible, but a welcome change of pace. Harper took a table in the corner of the patio so that she could look for Riley’s motorcycle from either direction. As she sipped on a passion fruit iced tea, she kept running the list of pros and cons of the position in her mind.
The biggest pro, quiet as she kept it, was the stability. She was so close to becoming weary of the constantly changing teams, although part of her knew it was about much more than location and team. She had enjoyed her time in New York, but it completely solidified the fact that her home was definitely in Arizona. It confirmed a lot more than that, but she had spent enough time flipping that over in her mind the night before. The theatre was a second home to her, and she was as comfortable backstage as she was in her living room. The sounds coming from the shop, all of the theatre ghosts lurking throughout the building, every creak, cold spot, and odd smell served her senses and her spirit. There was a certain calmness that settled over her as she made her rounds, no matter the time of day or night. Different spots and items all became cherished triggers of sense memory over the years.
That was also the problem—too many of those memories involved or revolved around Lucas. Harper knew they could both pull off professional, but she also knew that seeing him every day and reliving the past would shave years off of her life, one agonizing minute at a time. Damn her mother and the nuns for instilling all that Catholic guilt.
“Is this seat taken?”
“Riley! I’m sorry. I was just overthinking, as usual. I sat here so I could see you coming and put in a drink order for you. Best of intentions, right?”
The ladies hugged one another briefly. Riley settled her bag and helmet in the empty chair between them and sat down with her back to the patio entrance. Waving over the waiter, Harper had her tea refilled and ordered the same for her boss. Riley hardly acknowledged the clean faced college student. He offered to come back when they’d had more time with the menu.
Watching her, Harper had a hard time believing that the woman before her was ever timid, reserved, or wore dresses to anything that wasn’t formal. Riley’s first husband, in her words, hadn’t been good for her. To make her marriage work she had lost herself to his religion, his rules, his wants, and his ways. She’d hung on to the theatre, in no small part as a means of escape and because Connor wouldn’t “let the asshole take that from her, too.” Harper knew how lucky she was to know and learn from the woman who sat with her.
“Ah-ha! This bag is like a black hole. I stick stuff in here, but can never seem to find it again.”
“What went missing this time?”
“This.” Riley handed Harper a stack of papers.
Flipping through, Harper couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Riley was handing her a deal that shouldn’t be possible, considering the depth of the theatre's debt.
“How is this possible? I get the stage management contract for the gala and an offer to be the full-time production manager, but before the money even starts coming in.”
“Don’t get that excited. Check the date on the production manager contract.”
“A delay. Well, it does, at least, make more sense. Even with that, to start paying the stage manager’s contract right away must’ve been a lot to ask Davis for.”
“It was, and I’m pretty sure his yes was solely in the hopes that he’s giving me enough rope to hang myself.”
Davis was always operating two agendas—the public one, which was team focused and oriented, and a private one, which was far more singularly focused. Harper kept her eyes on the papers she’d deposited on the place setting in front of her. The contract would involve a huge commitment, and canceling jobs she already had meant there would be no turning back for at least a full season.
“Is my working with Lucas or not an absolute deal breaker for you?” Harper had to ask in a last ditch effort.
“Yes. No one else can run a crew as efficiently, especially on a deadline.”
“Honestly, my saying yes won’t matter and neither will these questions, because I know Lucas, and getting him to agree will never happen.”
“He already did.” Riley dropped that little bomb without raising her head from the menu. “Screw eating a salad today. I’m having the burger.”
“What?”
“Okay, so I’ll only eat half the bun. I’ll make up for it with a second glass of wine. Oh, let’s place this order. I can’t wait to pull up the email with Bob’s script. The man is a comedic genius. I don’t know how someone in Hollywood hasn’t snatched him up.”
“Riley! You asked Lucas and what? Did you tell him I already said yes? You’re right. We need to get that waiter over here. Forget two glasses. He needs to bring the bottle and now.”
Flagging over the beautiful boy in the waiter’s uniform, the ladies got their order in and, once the wine was delivered and when a few calming sips were taken, Harper tried again, with a lot more concern and less demand in her voice.
“Riley, please tell me exactly how the conversation with Lucas went. We went through a lot the last time, and I can’t believe he wasn’t a litt
le reluctant about this.”
“He seemed excited to get you back in the fold, and he was far less inquisitive.”
“So, he didn’t ask about my involvement at all? Didn't he express any concerns about reporting to me? He didn’t even ask about my time away? He loves the city, so I can’t believe there wasn’t one question about my time away.”
“No, Harper, he didn’t. Maybe whatever happened isn’t as big a deal as you think.”
“Oh, trust me, it is, and if I say yes, all my time will be spent waiting until the other shoe drops. I’m telling you, he’s already setting me up to seem like the one with all the issues, and he’ll come out looking like a saint.”
“That doesn’t sound like the way you two operate together, and Lucas certainly doesn’t behave that way. It has never been. Why would it start now?”
“I don’t know. Just let me see this brilliant script. If he can focus on the future and not the past, so can I.”
“That’s my girl!”
The two kept their heads buried and their minds concentrated the entire two and a half hours they were together. It might’ve been a Hail Mary move, but if they pulled it off, they could all exhale, confident in their job security for at least another season. They had a tentative calendar set up for the production team and the gala committee. Hugging one another, they separated in the parking lot, and Harper watched as Riley took off on her motorcycle. Sitting the way she always did when she first got in her car, Harper took out her phone and checked her messages and e-mail. She started doing that religiously after Lucas busted her driving while checking in one time too many. Sure, she wasn’t concerned about what he took umbrage to anymore, but some things held over. Thinking about him and the little information Riley offered, Harper scrolled up to his name again. Still number three on her favorites list. Damn his inability to be flexible; if he’d only been willing to try things her way for a little while. Of course, now his way was exactly what she did want. Was the universe stepping in on her behalf? It didn’t matter now. Too much time had passed. This would be strictly business, even if it killed her. Harper pulled out of the parking lot; there was nothing to do but replay it all and feel queasy. She would be in the room with him, once again, in a short forty-eight hours. The hands on a clock would move at an impossibly slow rate, of this she was certain.
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