“Would you say his eyes are cornflower blue?” Molly continues.
I look down at the box Freddie sent me. “They’re like irises.”
“Hmm,” Molly thinks about it. “You’re right. They’re so attractive.”
“What’s so attractive?” Mark is back, right behind my shoulder, and I spin around. Did he hear me?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He goes to where Roland is sitting. “Darby needs the timing for the control box. You said it was off last night.”
“Right.” Roland stands and walks away, leaving the three of us facing each other.
“You like irises?” A sly grin curls Mark’s lips.
“No… I mean, I don’t know.”
“I think they’re beautiful,” Molly jumps in, clutching his arm. He only pats her hand.
“I’ll keep that in mind. See you in an hour.” Those blue eyes hold mine, only now they’re more like little blue flames.
“I need to learn the new song.” I go around and sit in front of the piano, leaning forward to study the notes on the page, ignoring Mark’s smile and how it makes my stomach flutter.
Mark
Terrence drags the box cutter down the seam of the last of the boxes. We’ve broken down all of them, and now they only have to be carried out to the dumpsters. We’re finished for the day.
“I’m heading to the port after lunch. Fishing boats pull out on Sunday. We can go with them and spend the winter in the Caribbean.”
My stomach sinks, and I stop what I’m doing. “What do you mean? You’re leaving the show?”
“I’m not leaving the show. The show’s finished. At least as far as we’re concerned.”
Scanning the backstage area, I notice it’s clean, the new machinery is installed and tested, and the sets for the revised production wait in the wings.
“Done with us?” I repeat quietly. “For how long?”
“Meh.” He shrugs, shoving the cutter in his back pocket. “They run the same production three to six months, depending on how it earns. We’ll check in after the new year, see if we want to stay or go out again.”
“But what if something breaks in the meantime? Don’t they need a crew?”
“Darby can handle anything that comes up. Him or one of the regular guys.”
I sit on the side of a set piece. I told Lara I’d be up there every night. I can’t leave…
My old idea of joining the police academy crosses my mind. I still haven’t given up on it, but I need money to pay for it. Gavin’s offer echoes in my ears. Steady work… not seasonal.
“What will you do with the house while you’re gone?”
Terrence leans forward, gathering the cardboard flats together. “I usually just lock it up.”
“Ever considered letting someone stay over? Flush the toilets, keep the rats out?”
“My aunt comes by and checks on the place.”
I watch him continue stacking the boxes. “I could do it for you.”
“And what else? Work as a bouncer? You’ll make more money with me on the boats.”
“Gavin offered me a full-time job.”
He straightens and frowns at me then. “Doing what?”
I look down at my injured hands. He’s right to be suspicious. Hell, I’m suspicious. “I don’t know.”
He walks over and puts a hand on top of my shoulder. “What happens if you don’t like the work?”
“I appreciate your concern.” I pat the top of his hand. “But I’ve been taking care of myself a long time.”
He pokes out his lips and thinks about it. “I liked you the first night I saw you. I’ll let you stay in the house while I’m gone, and I’ll see if my aunt knows anybody looking for a roommate.”
“Thanks, man.” I grab the stack of boxes and start for the back.
“Hey, Mark?” Stopping at the door, I look up. He’s holding out the rubber spiral with the key hanging off it. “Take care of yourself.”
One fluid motion, and it arcs through the air in my direction. I reach up and grab it and drop it in my pocket.
7
“Love is too young to know what conscience is.” -Shakespeare
Lara
“The first hot non-creep, and of course he falls in love with you.” Molly is lying on our bed running her finger along the seam of our quilted coverlet.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lift my shirt and examine the ugly purple bruise. It’s as wide as my hands and crosses my stomach like a belt. “No one’s falling in love.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not stupid.”
“Neither am I. If I fall in love, it needs to be with someone like Freddie.”
“So you’re in love with Freddie?” She bounces up, and I glare at her reflection in the mirror. As if…
“Give me a chance. I only met him once.”
She groans loudly. “I knew it! You’re in love with Mark!” She slides off the bed and limps to the other side of our tiny room. She picks up the box from Freddie and holds it up. “Are you even going to open this?”
Then she limps back to where I stand. I frown watching her. “Are you hurt?”
“Because you stole Mark?”
I clear my throat and go to the bed to sit, patting the mattress beside me. “Why are you limping?”
“These shoes.” She slips one off and starts rubbing her toes.
“Are they too small?”
“I guess.”
I can’t believe it. My old shoes have always worked for her. Now I’m afraid I might start crying. I drop to my knees and feel her other foot. Her toes are curled in the end of the shoe.
“Shit! How is it possible for you to be smaller than me and have bigger feet?”
“Maybe I’m going to be tall?”
Rubbing my forehead, I groan. “We’ll have to get you a new pair of shoes.”
Her pouting is completely forgotten. “New shoes!” she squeals, bouncing on the bed. “I’ve never had anything new!”
“Yeah, well, there’s a reason.”
I rip open the box from Freddie, and we both gasp. Inside is a large barrette in the shape of a peacock. The card inside says it’s covered in Swarovski crystals, and when I tilt it side to side, it glitters like diamonds.
“It’s gorgeous!” Molly’s hands are clasped under her chin. “You have to wear it in the show!”
“No doubt that’s what he wants.” I imagine how much I could get if I pawned it.
Returning it to the box, I cross to my dressing table and bend down to the basket hidden behind the curtain. Pulling out pieces of ribbon and a spool of thread, I take out a shiny brass and cloisonné pen. It had been my mother’s.
“He’s really handsome.” Molly is lying on her back now, caressing a small satin pillow.
“Who?” I hold the pen as if I’m writing a letter, turning it side to side so it catches the light.
“Freddie!” she cries as if I’m an idiot.
“Oh, right.” With a sigh, I slide the pen into the pocket of my jeans. “I was actually trying to remember what he looked like last night.”
She narrows her blue eyes. “He’s tall and slim. He has smooth black hair and his teeth are so white and straight. And he has a line in his chin. I love that.”
“How did you manage to get such a good look at him?”
“And he’s very polite.” She nods. “Like Guy.”