Take a Bow (A Rivervue Community Theatre Romance, #3)

by Fiona Greene

  ‘Encore,’ someone yelled from the seats. ‘Encore.’

  That triggered a broad-scale call for more.

  ‘Cue the Lucy audio,’ Lexi mouthed into the headset she’d been clutching since act two.

  ‘Wait. I’m not quite done.’ Ron’s voice seemed more emotional than before. ‘Lucy … Little One.’

  The audience froze where they sat … or stood … halfway down the steps to the foyer bar and more sparkling wine. Nobody moved as Ron spoke lovingly to the child he’d fathered with his wife Eliza before he went to war. The child he’d never met because returning to Brachen would return him to Mary. And he could never do that. Lexi listened to him pour his heart out, love and pain, and knew that she and Dylan had hit upon the only respectful way to end Larrikin.

  When the recording ended suddenly with Ron’s gravelly ‘Turn it off, I’m done’ the audience didn’t react immediately. They stayed silent for the longest time.

  Then the thunderous applause started all over again.

  Lexi flew down the aisle and disappeared through a back-of-house door, and made it to the wings to watch her actors take a bow, then her crew, and finally it was her turn. She waited to be counted in, then strode out onto the stage.

  They spotlighted her as she walked across the stage and Bruce used the public address system to introduce her.

  ‘Theatre director, Lexi Spencer.’ She stopped and bowed centre stage, then pivoted left and bowed, then right. The applause kept coming. She searched the crowd for Mark but, with the stage lighting, she couldn’t find him.

  The slightest whisper behind her made her turn. The cast and crew were silently filing offstage.

  Leaving her alone. In the spotlight.

  Centre stage.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The sparkling wine was flowing and Mark took a glass from the circulating waiter for his ex. The carer had taken his father back to the home soon after Emma’s first scene. He’d recognised her, but the dual timelines seemed to have triggered his confusion and he’d started to get worked up. As much as he wanted his dad to stay, he knew the reality.

  His dad could do past. Or present. But he could no longer do both.

  Skye was still rabbiting on as they stood together, waiting for Emma to get out of costume and join them. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. His daughter had done a brilliant job tonight and he couldn’t wait to tell her. The only downside was that spending the night with Skye had put a damper on the performance for him.

  Funny how fate had a way of playing with you. If he hadn’t known before tonight who he’d rather have spent the evening with, he knew now.

  Lexi.

  He scanned the crowd. He couldn’t wait to congratulate her.

  Even with his insider knowledge of the script and how they were planning to stage the show, tonight’s performance had blown him away. It was seamless, on par with what he imaged a high-status theatre in a major city could achieve.

  Mark had spotted the director of the architectural firm scoping the project, as well as one of the developers lined up to profit from the redevelopment. They’d been seated together and while they’d paid attention, he didn’t think they were really into live theatre. They preferred dead theatres.

  Lexi would have no warning that they were there. And he didn’t want anything to ruin the success of her night. And it was her night.

  ‘Mark, I don’t think you’re listening to me.’ Skye was hanging on his arm, and she reached up to touch the side of his face.

  ‘What?’ It sounded terse, but he couldn’t help it. He kept scanning the crowd for Emma or Lexi, but there was no sign of them. He wanted to ditch his ex and go backstage. He scanned the room again. Nope, not one of the cast or crew had come front of house. He knew there was a debrief straight after the performance, but how long would that take?

  ‘I can’t believe how much progress Emma’s made. She’s so different now, and I know it’s all because of you.’ Skye took a gulp of her drink and moved uncomfortably close. ‘You’re a good man. I was stupid to ever let you get away.’

  Mark stopped scanning the crowd. Suddenly the clinging and constant attention started to make sense. ‘I never went away,’ he ground out through gritted teeth. ‘You left me.’ He shook her off his arm. ‘For a twenty-year-old pretty boy.’

  ‘We all make mistakes.’ Skye pouted and took another sip. ‘I’ve been thinking.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t even listen to what I had to say. You never listen.’ Her voice rose in pitch and Mark noticed a few people watching.

  Great.

  ‘There’s Emma.’ He shepherded her with a hand under her elbow toward the circulation door to the back-of-house corridor. His gut was telling him this conversation was about to get ugly, and he wasn’t going there in front of all these people—some work colleagues, some friends.

  He waited for the door to close behind them then turned to face Skye. ‘I must have been mistaken. It wasn’t Emma after all.’

  Skye though, seemed to have taken completely the wrong message from his sudden dash to a private space. ‘You devil,’ she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  Shock held him immobile for a second. ‘No.’ He pushed her arms away. ‘You started a conversation. I wanted to finish it in private.’ He ploughed on. ‘What you said out there made me think you see us breaking up as a mistake. Which is fine for you. I, however, don’t agree.’

  Skye’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘So, no more talk of “making a mistake” and “such a good man”, and definitely not in front of Emma. It is over. You had your chance, and while I might have eventually forgiven you for deserting me, you deserted our child. And that is unforgivable.’

  He saw the delicate flute just before it was launched and was quick enough to duck. The sticky alcohol sprayed his face and tux, but the glass didn’t make contact. It shattered on the wall behind him and the stem tinkled harmlessly to the floor.

  ‘Also unforgivable.’ He paused. ‘Potentially a chargeable offence.’

  ‘You’re a bastard. I would never want a man like you.’

  ‘Good.’ He sensed rather than saw someone approaching. He checked the corridor. Nothing. ‘So, we go back out there, and you tell our daughter what a good job she did, then you disappear back into whatever hole you crawled out of to come here. We don’t need you in our lives.’

  She shot him a venomous look and spat, ‘I’m leaving now.’

  And she did. She turned on her three-inch heels, marched over to the door, pushed instead of pulled, and eventually opened it far enough to escape out into the crowd. Mark watched her go, torn between seeing her off the premises and making sure no-one slipped in the mess she left behind. He compromised. He grabbed a towel and some wet floor signs, gave his face a quick wipe and barricaded off the broken glass then headed front of house.

  The cast were slowly trickling into the celebratory drinks. He watched as Lexi, hand in hand with Emma, joined the throng. Angela and Lexi had taken Emma shopping for a dress for her first opening night, and they’d chosen a sweet, plain dress in pale pink, and teamed it with little ballet slippers in silver and shiny tights. There was some sort of headband with a matching pink bow. At the time, he’d baulked a little at the damage to his credit card. Now though … He swallowed down on the lump in his throat.

  His daughter.

  Young enough to dress as a little girl, but with her teenage years looming. He would have dressed her in jeans. Or shorts. He tucked that learning away with the million other things he’d learned since becoming a single dad.

  Lexi and Emma were stopped repeatedly as they tried to cross the foyer. It must have been ten full minutes before his daughter arrived at his side.

  ‘Daddy.’ She launched into a hug then pulled away. ‘Yuck. You’re all sticky.’

  ‘Someone spilled a drink on me.’

  ‘Where’s Mummy?’ Emma craned her neck and searched the crowd.

  ‘
Mummy was here, until about ten minutes ago. But she had organised someone to pick her up, and she didn’t know it might take a while for you to come out. We didn’t know exactly where you were.’ He crouched down to eye level. ‘She said for me to tell you three things. Number one, you were awesome. Number two, she thinks you’ve found your calling, and she’s sorry she didn’t realise how much you love this, or she would have swapped you out of pageants sooner. Number three, she loves you and she wishes she didn’t need to leave early.’ He wrapped his daughter in a hug. ‘She asked me to give you that.’

  ‘Thanks Daddy.’

  Emma was beaming, and as he straightened he caught Lexi’s eye. Her hand was over her mouth and the skin on her neck and face was all mottled, like she was going to cry.

  She knew.

  Knew he was protecting his daughter from the ugliness of the adult world.

  Had that prickle of awareness that someone was coming down the corridor been correct? Had she seen what had happened? Redirected Emma, so Emma wouldn’t see?

  ‘Thank you,’ she mouthed silently over Emma’s head.

  Yep, she knew. And she understood.

  His gut started to churn. How could someone who seemed to do all the right things be the same woman who’d ripped his heart out by doing the wrong things?

  Mark took his daughter by the hand. ‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked her. ‘Let’s mingle so everyone can tell you how fabulous you were out there tonight.’

  He led his daughter out into the crowd and got no more than three feet before they were stopped the first time. As the lady who owned the newsagent cooed over Emma and her performance, he snuck a glance back over his shoulder to Lexi.

  He drank his fill of the figure-hugging gold gown that caressed every curve. As the production tonight was perfect, so too was Lexi.

  He swallowed down on another huge lump in his throat. He and Lexi, it wasn’t meant to be. History had proved that to him.

  And yet, watching her standing alone in this madhouse of people made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, this time it might have been different.

  If only she hadn’t lied to him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lexi’s phone was ringing loud and persistently.

  So much for a sleep-in.

  She didn’t get out of bed quickly enough to catch the call, but it wasn’t long before they redialled. The same time as the text from Kenzie arrived.

  Have you seen the local paper?

  No, is it great?

  UGH. NO. THEY’VE PANNED US.

  W.T.F.????????

  Posted link on our private group page.

  Lexi closed her texts and opened the link to the local paper’s website, which had the exclusive on the review.

  COMMUNITY THEATRE TRASHES LOCAL LEGEND, the front-page headline screamed.

  Amateur production fails to deliver on the Draven, it continued.

  Lexi sank onto the lounge and scanned the rest of the article.

  High expectations. Spectacle of tortuous theatre. Clomping cast. Distracting sets. Unoriginal. Pretention. Ineptitude. Woeful staging. Denigrating a legend. Audience speechless.

  Finally, something she could agree with. They were speechless. With awe.

  She searched the article for the by-line: Stanley White. He wasn’t a local, and she didn’t know his work, but she’d seen his name on something recently.

  She tapped her nail against her teeth. What was it?

  She searched his name on the internet, but there wasn’t anything obvious. He was someone who reviewed, but the number of publications his work appeared in made her think it was review for hire.

  Arse.

  How dare he trash her production.

  Her phone buzzed again. This time a text from Mark: Call me.

  Lexi pushed her hair back off her face and closed her eyes. She could call Mark, and get a heaped helping of ‘I told you so’, or she could figure out how best to limit the damage.

  First calm.

  Then damage control.

  She took a few deep breaths, trying to slow her breathing and even out her heart rate. But the surge of adrenaline that had chased away all remnants of sleep still had her completely in its grasp.

  She sat for a few more minutes, until she was ready to react appropriately. Then she pulled over a notepad and grabbed her pen.

  She needed a list. First, limit or control the chaos locally, then determine the spread, and finally business as usual.

  Jeez, the matinee was scheduled for five hours’ time.

  She needed to get a hold of the entire Rivervue cast and crew and speak to them. Lexi pulled out her phone again. Many, many moons ago Rivervue had invested in an emergency messaging system, after one of their juniors had seemingly disappeared from the theatre. Anyone on their internal phone directory could be texted with a single push of a button.

  Lexi opened the app and typed what she hoped was a reassuring message: Great show last night everyone. Calling a meeting at 12 to discuss reviews. Matinee at 2. Business as usual. L.S.

  The short field length made the message sound terse, but she hoped it would pull anyone having doubts into her sphere early enough to allay their fears. Then she copied the message and sent it independently to Mark.

  Can’t talk now. All hands on deck limiting damage. Don’t know the reviewer, but he seems to be a bit off with this review. Audience was ecstatic.

  He would of course get the original message on whatever contact number he provided for Emma, but her message went straight to his private mobile.

  Next, she rang Deborah at the grocery store. ‘Hey Deb, it’s Lexi.’

  They exchanged greetings, then she said ‘Deb, I’m wondering if you could do a delivery to the theatre this morning. I’ll pay extra for delivery.’

  ‘Sure hon, what do you need?’

  ‘Refreshments for a hundred. Suitable to serve with tea or coffee. And,’ she paused, ‘every copy of the Brachen Times you’ve got.’

  There was a short silence then Deborah said, ‘Sure. We’ve got cake, and biscuits, and I’ll do a selection with some dip and crackers, and some chips. Maybe some fruit.’

  Lexi could hear Deborah’s pencil scratching against the notepad. ‘That’d be great.’

  ‘Papers, though, I can’t help you out with. Some delivery problem. I rang Una over at the newsagent and she’s got none to sell either. We’ve got the Sydney papers, but not a single copy of the Brachen Times.’

  ‘Really?’ Lexi’s legs went out from under her. ‘But, where are they?’ Images of someone plastering a thousand copies of that front page all over the brickwork of Rivervue flashed in front of her eyes.

  ‘Well,’ Deborah said, ‘that is the mystery. I can guarantee though that no papers were sold at Una’s or here. There’s a couple of people hunting down copies at the Roadhouse and spots like that. But they’d have to be quick because Una’s delivery man Mitch was also tasked to try and find as many copies as possible.’ She paused. ‘As soon as we realised there was a problem.’ Another pause. ‘A delivery problem, that is.’ Lexi heard her swallow, down the line. ‘There’s a couple of locals who’ve had home delivery, but apparently Mitch has now broken down and can’t complete his run. His phone has run out of battery. So, majority of the locals who buy the paper have missed out. And all of our visitors.’

  She said it so straight that to start with Lexi thought there was actually a delivery problem. Then, some sort of anti-Rivervue protest. But the triumphant declaration about the visitors confirmed the suspicion that’d been sneaking in.

  ‘Oh Deborah.’ She didn’t know what to say. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Dog act,’ Deborah said crisply. ‘We’re not putting up with that. Una said the show was excellent, it was about time someone cut through the crap around Ron, and that she met the little girl from the show, and she was lovely. We couldn’t stop the electronic copy going out, but we sure as eggs weren’t supplying the paper copy. That Stanley White has a lot to an
swer for. Plays golf with our mayor, he does. Well, I won’t be slicing any deli meat for Stanley or the mayor in the foreseeable future, let me tell you.’

  Stanley was friends with the mayor?

  Oh, this was ugly. Now she’d never know if it was a balanced review or a spite review. Of course, it didn’t really matter. It was out there now.

  Lexi swallowed hard as she realised the enormity of what Deborah and Una had done. ‘Thank you,’ she repeated. Her head was whirling. ‘Can I pay you for those missing papers?’

  ‘Most certainly not. They’re missing. Although your groceries, I will need money for those.’ She totted up the price and Lexi paid over the phone with her card.

  Lexi hung up and stared at her phone. Relief washed over her.

  Brachen pulling together. Community.

  This was what she was going to miss when she left Rivervue and Brachen. That connectedness that meant their local grocer could drop everything to feed her special meeting. And the community who were supporting her theatre company the best way they knew how. She decided to ignore how legal or otherwise what they’d done was. Her community had met that spite with a united front and made it clear the actions were not okay.

  She was lucky to live in a community like Brachen.

  Did the mayor know?

  Then a second and more chilling thought pushed its way forward.

  Did Mark know?

  Some random reviewer giving Larrikin a bad review she could put up with. But if there was any hint of something amiss, she would give the Brachen Council everything it deserved. And more.

  Lexi dropped her phone onto the table and headed for the shower. She’d only been awake fifteen minutes, but already it felt like hours.

  Today was a Milk’n’Honey triple-shot day for sure.

  ***

  The theatre was packed when Lexi arrived, well in advance of the meeting. The catering had arrived and some of the CJ’s kids were setting it out in the green room. ‘Thanks guys,’ she called as she passed through. Today she was in her ’50s pedal pushers and canvas sneakers, with a cotton shirt tied at the waist. Upstairs, her suit hung in her office, next to the two dresses she’d prepped for the shows, in case there were any media requests.