“A huge relief,” Angie said, pulling off her headset to shake back her hair. “I don’t mind working the long hours because it means there’s a paycheck waiting at the end of the week.”
“Okay, guys, I’m out of here,” Tish said, slipping the strap of her purse across her chest for security’s sake. “Be back in an hour with the food.”
“Can’t you call and have it delivered?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Some of the guys want beer and cigarettes, so I offered to go to the pizza place and the liquor store, and the guys will pay for my dinner.”
“Sounds like a deal,” Angie said.
She waved. “See you in a while.”
“I hope you brought a raincoat,” I said. “It’s pouring outside.”
“It is?” She glanced down at the white linen blouse and thin gray vest she had on. Her shoes were dainty black flats worn without socks.
“Did you bring a coat?” Angie asked.
“No. It was sunny when I left my house this morning.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Angie muttered. “I didn’t bring my coat. Otherwise, I’d let you borrow it.”
“That’s okay,” Tish said.
“Brooklyn,” Angie said. “You brought a raincoat, right?”
“Um, yeah,” I said, and regretted it immediately. Regret was followed quickly by guilt and I winced. It was just a raincoat, for goodness’ sake.
But no, it was a Burberry raincoat. A gift from Derek. From London. Did I mention that it wasn’t just red—it was claret?
Oh, shut up, I thought, and sighed, knowing poor Tish would get drenched without a coat. I couldn’t have that on my conscience.
“I’ve got a key to your room,” Angie said. “Wait here. I’ll go get it.”
“Are you sure, Brooklyn?” Tish said, as Angie took off running.
“Absolutely.” I flashed her what I hoped was an upbeat smile and we traded small talk for another minute until Angie jogged back with my coat.
“Here you go,” she said.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Tish said, pulling it on. She grinned at me. “And it fits great. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, biting my tongue. “Be careful. It’s wet out there.”
She gave a thumbs-up as she walked quickly to the door leading to the parking lot.
Angie started to speak, but then held up her hand. Her eyes glazed over and I knew that someone was speaking to her over her headset. With a wave, she went off toward the kitchen stage area.
I turned and saw Derek watching me from just a few feet away.
“That was very kind of you,” he said.
“If you knew what was going through my mind, you wouldn’t think so.”
He laughed as he swung his arm around my shoulders. “I knew exactly what was going through your mind.”
I buried my head on his chest. “Oh, God, I’m transparent.”
“Only to me, love,” he said, still chuckling. “Only to me. And no worries. We’ll just take a trip to London and get you a spare Burberry. How’s that sound?”
“Wonderful,” I said, delighted by the very idea of traveling to London, one of my favorite cities, accompanied by my favorite man. And who couldn’t use a spare Burberry coat? I thought with a smile.
“What were you talking to Tom about?” I asked, changing the subject.
“I suggested he hire some extra security,” Derek said.
“That’s a great idea. Did he nix it?”
“Pretty much,” Derek said affably. “But I’ll still be hanging around as long as you’re working here.”
“My hero.”
We were almost to the hallway leading to my dressing room when a woman screamed from somewhere out on the stage.
“What the hell?” Derek took off running and I followed.
We found Randy Rayburn sprawled on the floor near the craft-services table, struggling for air. A cup of coffee had spilled all over the floor.
“He can’t breathe!” Sherry, one of the assistants, yelled, clutching her hands helplessly over her chest. She must have been the one who’d just screamed.
Derek knelt down and loosened Randy’s shirt and tie. He looked up at me. “Call nine-one-one.”
I didn’t have my phone so I shouted, “Somebody call nine-one-one”
“I’ve got his pen! I’ve got it!” Todd, another production assistant, came dashing around the corner from the direction of the dressing rooms. He ran over and handed something to Derek. “He’s allergic.”
Derek didn’t hesitate to slide the injector out of its tube. He ripped off the cap, gripped the injector, and shoved the needle into Randy’s thigh.
I had to look away, and noticed a few others making faces.
Derek held the injector tube against Randy’s leg for at least ten seconds, then pulled it away. He’d obviously had experience dealing with anaphylactic shock and EpiPens. A good thing, because I wouldn’t have known what to do.
A few seconds later, Randy jerked his head up off the floor and sucked in a huge breath of air. He did that a few times, wheezing like an asthma patient.
“Can you sit up?” Derek asked after a minute.
“Yeah,” Randy muttered, then coughed a little. When he stopped coughing, Derek lifted him by the arms to a sitting position.