Adri pressed her eyes closed. “I’m in trouble. Rent has skyrocketed, I can barely pay my staff, and with inflation, people aren’t going out to shows as much anymore. All that on top of our somewhat niche take on things, the Empress is suffering.”
Adri Euler was the only female theater owner in the city, not to mention the only lesbian theater owner. For the last several years, she’d worked hard to get the Empress off the ground, a tiny venue just south of downtown, and had managed to staff a few regular actors while leaving room for community roles in every production. The Empress specialized in queer interpretations of classics—gender-bent, swapped, and inverted, as well as trans, lesbian, gay, bi, pan, ace, and aro character arcs woven into familiar cishet plots.
The Empress was a queer institution in Portland. A safe space, a community. A home for many.
“I had no idea,” Stevie said.
“Because I’ve only told Vanessa,” Adri said.
Stevie nodded, but she couldn’t help feeling a pang of loss. She was no longer Adri’s confidante. And while Vanessa and Adri had always been close, it still stung to hear Stevie was now an outsider when it came to Adri’s emotions.
“Right,” Stevie said.
“But I’ve decided to turn this next production into a fundraiser. We’re doing Much Ado.”
Stevie tilted her head, smiling. Adri smiled back and, for a second, the last six months hadn’t happened. The last six years, even. Instead, they were best friends who hadn’t yet crossed into romance, sitting in that crappy apartment with the ant problem that the four of them shared senior year. Stevie and Adri were sprawled on the plaid couch they’d found on the street and doused in three bottles of Febreze, reading through Much Ado in order to “reimagine” the iconic play for their senior thesis.
“This would be so much better if everyone was queer,” Stevie had said, reading yet another of Beatrice’s diatribes at Benedick. “Take out the toxic masculinity, add a little good old-fashioned gay yearning, and—”
Adri had slapped her hand onto Stevie’s leg. They looked at each other, both of their eyes wide, and that was it. Adri kissed her—really kissed her, for the first time—and they spent the weekend huddled together, nitpicking every line, blocking out every scene, and noting facial expressions to turn the play into something funny and familiar, yet entirely new.
A few years later, the Empress was born.
“Always a crowd-pleaser,” Stevie said now.
“Exactly,” Adri said softly, squeezing Stevie’s fingers. “And we’re going all out—a sit-down dinner on closing night after the final performance, a silent auction, you name it. Except . . . I need butts in the seats for this to work. I need people to buy tickets to even be able to put it on.”
Stevie pulled her hands free. She couldn’t think straight while being touched. Never could.
“And?” she said, going back to a particularly stubborn knot in the wires.
“And,” Adri said, “I need you to play Benedick.”
Stevie closed her eyes. She fucking loved Benedick. He was an asshole, sure, but playing him as a queer person, opposite a queer Beatrice . . . well, there was no doubt that would be quite a show.
“You’ll bring in our supporters,” Adri said. “The community loves you and, fine, go ahead and deny it, but Stevie Scott is a name in this town.”
Stevie scoffed. If she was a name in Portland’s theater world, she wouldn’t be sitting in a coffee shop with a potentially degrading swear word in the name, untangling rainbow twinkle lights for a cranky practicing witch from Liverpool.
“You are,” Adri said firmly. “You’re an amazing actor, you’ve done dozens of shows all over this town, ninety percent of them to rave reviews. With you on the bill, we could pull the crowd we need.”
Stevie didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. She knew if she did, she’d cave and say yes, and hell, who was she kidding? She was going to say yes anyway. No was never a very easy word for Stevie when it came to Adri, when it came to anyone, really. She could handle the little stuff—do you want a soda, have you seen this movie, do you like onions on your pizza—but the big stuff, the stuff that caused disappointed expressions and down-turned mouths . . . yeah, she sucked at that part. Her anxiety would flare, and she’d spend the next week convinced her friends hated her, she’d die alone and miserable, and wasn’t worth a damn to anyone. Then, when said friend or family member eventually got ahold of her to tell her that, no, of course they didn’t hate her, why in the world would she think that, her anxiety would crest once again, convincing her that she was terrible at understanding people and could never trust her own brain to make heads or tails of any social situation.
Easier to simply say yes.
So that’s exactly what she did.
“Oh my god, thank you,” Adri said as soon as the “Okay” was out of Stevie’s mouth. She leaped out of her chair, nearly knocking over her mug, and launched across the table to gather Stevie into a hug.
And Stevie found herself sort of . . . melting into the embrace. Adri still smelled the same—the rainwater lotion she used, cinnamon from her toothpaste—and the smoothness of her cheek against Stevie’s was almost too much. Stevie very nearly nuzzled her, for god’s sake, and it wasn’t because she was still in love with her ex.
She simply hadn’t been touched in so long. Ren wasn’t much of a hugger. Their comfort usually came in the form a slap on the back, along with an admonition to suck it up. And while Stevie had told Adri and Vanessa she was one hundred percent fine with their blessed union—she was, goddammit—she hadn’t really touched either of them since they started dating. She hadn’t touched anyone, and now, with Adri’s cinnamony breath in her ear, her skin sort of . . . woke up.
She turned her head, just a little, ready to give in to the urge to press closer. She just needed—
“Hey, hi, wow, what’s going on here?”
At the sound of Ren’s voice, Adri pulled back, laughing awkwardly even as she held on to Stevie’s hand. Stevie blinked the café back into focus, winced as Ren glared down at her.
“Stevie here has agreed to be my Benedick,” Adri said, totally oblivious to Ren’s dagger eyes.
“Has she now?” Ren said, their voice dripping with sarcasm.
The glaring continued.
Adri, however, remained clueless. She gathered her things together, tossing the copy of Much Ado into Stevie’s space. “I need to get going.” She stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Stevie, auditions for the other roles start next week. Let’s get together soon and talk about some logistics?”
“Yeah,” Stevie said, still slightly dazed. “Okay.”
“I’ll text you,” Adri said, then headed for the door. As soon she stepped outside, she nodded and said something to someone off to the left. Suddenly, Vanessa appeared, launching herself into Adri’s arms. The two kissed, linked arms, and disappeared down the street, Adri gesticulating wildly in that way she did when she was excited.
Guess Vanessa didn’t need to get back to campus all that soon after all.
“Holy shit, did you just get played,” Ren said, falling into Adri’s now-empty chair, lifting their drink to their mouth.
Stevie turned back to look at her friend. “You heard all that, did you?”
“Oh, I did. Hearing like a bat,” Ren said, gesturing to their ears, which were loaded with tiny studs and hoops.
Stevie sighed. “It’s not like I have anything better to do right now.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
“It’s a play,” Stevie said. “It’s exposure.”
“Same town, same stage. What’s it been? Ten years?”
Stevie shook her head. She and Ren had had this conversation many times—Ren wanted Stevie to branch out, move to a bigger theater city. Stevie was terrified to do so. Etcetera, etcetera.
“Okay,” Ren said, waving a hand, short nails painted black as always. “Fine. You’re doing the play. Save the Empress. Great. None of us want it to go under. What I’m more concerned with is . . . what the fuck was that? A cuddle? A snuggle?”