He laughed a little and poked the bruise hard with his finger.
“So,” Scarlett said, “doesn’t that make things okay between us now? I mean, if you’re broken up?”
Eric got up and started to pace, digging his hands deep in his pockets.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Scarlett,” he said. “I’ve been so overwhelmed since I moved here. I start NYU in a few weeks. When school starts, I’m going to be busy all the time, meeting lots of people. It might just be the same thing all over again. I hurt Sarah. What if I hurt you? I like you too much to get this wrong.”
“I don’t understand,” Scarlett said.
“Me, neither. That’s the problem.”
They were both so wrapped up in Eric’s confusion that neither of them noticed that someone had walked up behind them.
“Excuse me,” a voice said.
Scarlett knew she knew the voice, but the wires in her head didn’t send the information quickly enough, and she didn’t care enough to turn away from Eric and look.
“The garage is closed,” Eric said, not looking over either. “Sorry.”
“I really need to speak to whoever is in charge.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Scarlett caught the glint of very short, very silver hair.
COMBUSTION
Having met her old friends “Tara” and “Paul” by the entrance, Donna Spendler didn’t need much more confirmation that she was in the right place. She strode inside the garage and up the ramp, with Scarlett and Eric trailing a few paces behind.
“That’s the woman from the audition,” Eric said quietly. “Why is she here, and why does she look so mad?”
“You really don’t want to know,” Scarlett said, hurrying to catch up.
Donna stopped short when she saw Mrs. Amberson leaning against the outside wall, smoking and issuing orders about the placement of the stage.
“I’m starting to think we need to come about five feet forward,” she said. “That way we can have an even flow of energy around the space. Circular motion, like we’re creating a whirlpool of drama.”
“Amy?” Donna said. “It’s been a long time. I love your facelift. I’ve heard you can get great deals on them overseas.”
This was enough to get the attention of at least half the Hamlet crew. Mrs. Amberson didn’t so much as flinch.
“Hello, Donna,” she said stiffly. “I didn’t realize you could come out in daylight.”
Pleasantries thus exchanged, the two settled into an uncomfortable, grimacing silence. Spencer rolled out from under the stage, where he had been attaching a brace for one of the unicycle ramps.
“What a small world,” Donna said, giving him a nod of greeting.
“It certainly is,” Mrs. Amberson replied.
Everyone was aware of what was going on now, and all focus was on Donna and Mrs. Amberson.
“Why don’t we go get a coffee?” Donna said. “We need to talk.”
Mrs. Amberson didn’t stop smiling, but her eyes had gone hard and fixed. She squared off in that superhero stance that Scarlett had first seen her in.
“I’m afraid we’re a little busy right now,” she said. “Maybe some other time. Tell you what. I’ll call you.”
She meant those last two words to sting, for whatever reason.
“I have some unfortunate news,” Donna said. “In a few hours, this will all be shut down. I came down here to tell you that you should get your things out while you can.”
“What are you talking about?” Trevor said, stepping forward.
“Peddle it elsewhere, dear friend,” Mrs. Amberson said, puffing slowly on her cigarette. “We have full permission from the owner.”
“The owner didn’t look into the zoning laws carefully enough. You can’t perform here. It violates several city ordinances.”
“People have before,” Trevor said insistently. “We’re the third show in this place.”
“They would have been booted out if the shows had made the radar at the right places.”
“No,” Trevor said. “No. The city can’t kick us out twice.”
Mrs. Amberson dropped her cigarette, jabbed it out with her toe, and stepped forward to where Donna was standing. She looked quite menacing.
“If you want to pick a fight, pick it with me,” she said. “I’ll settle this with you in private. Leave them out of it. They didn’t do anything.”
“This isn’t me,” Donna replied. “There’s nothing I can do about this. You should have been more careful. A lot more careful. But we should talk, Amy. Give me a call when you’re finished up here. You already have my number.”
With that, she was gone, her shoes clacking in the echoey garage.
“What just happened?” Trevor asked. “Is this for real?”
Mrs. Amberson grappled for another cigarette.