by Gabi Moore
But anyway, fuck him. He was right. It was me who had a row with my aunt. Me who pushed. And yes, maybe me that was just a teeny, tiny bit thrilled that now, it was all really happening. I don’t know what it was, but it was happening all right. And faster than I could keep up with it.
I would miss him. I would miss that unspeakably beautiful feeling of locking eyes with him as his slid slowly into me, into me to the hilt, so deep that his hipbone, his heartbeat pressed hard up against mine, and there was no further he could go, not even if we both stopped breathing, both dug into one another’s gazes like we were trapped there. I would miss watching the little wave of goosebumps flash over his taut skin as my tongue inched him closer to coming. I would miss his stupid, stupid flat and how desperately undecorated it was.
But I couldn’t think about any of that now. I had work to do. I had to …pull myself up by my bootstraps. Actually, I had to find a way to get ahold of some bootstraps first. Tamara.
I looked at my watch.
I might be able to catch her and throw myself at her feet. I didn’t know what I would tell her yet but I should probably show my face. Try to explain that I had a history of substance abuse, and unfortunately for me, I had discovered the most irresistible substance known to man. Fucking Adam Morgan. Dark, irresistible. The kind of thing that could wreck a life, apparently.
I shook my head clear and picked up the pace. I couldn’t think about that now. Couldn’t think about her.
It was almost too perfect to be true: Tamara was standing outside the building again, smoking, again, just like the first time I had come groveling to her. I took a deep breath and walked over, trying my best not to look too sheepish. She took one look at me, stubbed out the cigarette with her toe and held the door open for me. I quickly went inside and she followed me down the hall to her office. Her boots click-clacked on the floor behind me.
She closed the office door behind us both and sat at her desk, templing her hands and looking at my nervous hands.
“Back from the dead I see,” she said.
“I am so, so sorry,” I said.
She waited for me to come gushing out with excuses. But by the way her eyes were unpeeling me, peering straight at me and my face no-doubt still red and swollen from crying, it was as though she already knew. She knew that Adam and I had spent every evening after rehearsals together. Everyone knew.
“I got Alice to take me in the end,” she said, “I was a little late, that’s all. Not such a big deal, don’t worry about it.”
I winced. That was it?
“The guy in Cambridge was amazing, actually, it’s a pity you didn’t get to meet him.”
“Tamara, I’m so so sorry I let you down.”
“Yeah, OK, you already said so.”
“You’re not …angry?”
“I’m angry as hell,” she said.
The air in the office felt strange.
“I may have to reconsider my place on this course,” I said slowly. Carefully. “My aunt was responsible for my tuition and she …well, it turns out she won’t be able to finance my way any further, and so I--”
“Yeah, she called and told me all about it.”
“She did?”
“Your aunt really cares about you, you know that?”
I couldn’t help my eyebrows from knitting together.
“Yes, well, we’ve had a bit of a quarrel and now I’m going to have to arrange some kind of loan or something,” I said moodily.
She tilted her head and gave me a strange look.
“Nyx, can I ask you something?”
“Um...”
“Do you even want to be here?”
Our eyes met.
“Tamara, I think Bluebeard is amazing. I can’t tell you. I love how it’s all coming together. It’s so exciting, watching everyone piece it together, watching it come alive. I’m so honored to be a part of it,” I said. “Truly.”
I meant it.
She sighed and looked down at her lap.
“If you were anybody else I would have kindly told you to fuck off,” she said. My ears burned. “But it’s not too often that we get to work with such raw talent here. And honestly, I’m curious about what you’re capable of. You’ve done good work so far. Really. But I’m not your aunt, yeah? I need you to really start applying yourself.”
“Absolutely. Yes, I know exactly what you mean. And I’m so sorry, Tamara, I know I turn up late so often, and I’ve been so distracted and honestly, I’m so sorry for forgetting about Friday. I really am sorry… I just want to keep doing the set design, I really want to give it my all now, I’m ready.”
“Oh, you’re not going to do set design anymore.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I need more reliable people for that stuff, Nyx. Organized people. My plate is full, I need to know that the crew are on it when I need them to be.”
I gulped. What had her and my aunt spoken about anyway?
“No, you’re off the set design, I’ve already assigned Becky to finish up what you started.”
“So, then…?”
“Oh? Didn’t Adam tell you already? You were round his place just now weren’t you?” she asked and gave me a wicked smile. I didn’t know what was going on. But I didn’t like it one bit. She sighed again and adjusted her weight in the seat.
“You’re not the only one to leave me in the lurch. Belinda’s head injury isn’t getting better fast enough. She can’t perform. So you’ll play the female lead. To be honest we just don’t have anyone else and what can I say, there are people out there who have your back.”
I stared at her dumbstruck.
“You want me to act?”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
Before I could think about it, my lips answered for me.
“Yes. Yes it really is.”
“Good.”
“Did Adam…?”
“Did he ask for you? Yes. A lot of people have, actually. I’m a businesswoman, Nyx, I care about running things smoothly, so if enough people are telling me you’re the one, I guess you’re the one. So whatever, go and do your thing, you have a few weeks. Wow me,” she said and smiled wryly again.
“Oh my God, Tamara, I won’t let you down.”
“Yeah, you will, I’m sure you will. Just do a good job with it anyway. Take all of this crazy,” she said and gestured to me, “and put it onto the stage. You’re a piece of work, Nyx, but you are a natural, I can’t argue with that.”
I couldn’t find words.
“Now Jesus that’s enough favors for one day. The ghost of Norman Westling owes me one, that’s for sure.”
“You knew my father?”
“Of course I did. I attended one of his workshops, way back in the day. I was just a kid then, but he made a big impression.”
I smiled.
“Yeah, he’d probably be rolling around in his grave to see me now, huh?” I said, and smiled.
She gave me a sharp look.
“Why would you even say such a thing?” she said, suddenly serious.
“Oh, I don’t know. Just that …he was such a serious artist, you know? Such a sophisticated actor. So in control and all. I could never live up to that.”
She burst out laughing.
“Sophisticated? OK, are we talking about the same man? Your dad was crazy,” she said, walking towards the door.
“Yeah?”
She smiled knowingly.
“Yeah. You have more in common with him than you think, you know.”
Her shoes click-clacked down the hall until I couldn’t hear them anymore. I turned to walk the other way.
What would my father say, if he could see me now?
I sat on the cold concrete steps outside the building and watched the clouds. I watched them for a long time. Watched them till something cleared and went calm inside me. Watched them till I fell still inside, and could see a way forward.
Chapter Seventeen
I folded the wad of
forms and packed them tightly into a manila envelope.
Applying for financing this late in the year was more bureaucracy than any human deserved in one life, but it needed to be done. I had cried a little this morning, looking at my online banking and seeing that aunt Lila had indeed killed the direct debit. Shut off the tap. With the last trickles, I had to make my next move.
I had just over two weeks before I’d have to pay rent again, pay for my Internet connection, my utilities. I still had my credit card, thank god. I had blown the last fifty pounds I had in my account on rice, beans and frozen vegetables. That would last me for a good while, if I ate carefully. If they approved my convoluted appeal for a loan I could start looking for a new, cheaper place. But then, they may not approve my loan. I couldn’t think about that, though.
Belinda had offered me a place to stay for a little while if it came to it, which was fair given that I had stolen her role and all. Tamara had told me she’d give me some grace with the coursework and that I had a month to get my act together, but that she expected me to finish up the hall scene set that I had started. Becky would pick up after that. This meant I’d have regular rehearsals, a whole play’s worth of new lines to remember, all the regular class work and tutorials, and a set to finish. And I’d do it on rice, beans and frozen vegetables.
I stared over at some DIY supplies stashed in the corner. The hall scene was mostly done, but I needed some kind of artwork for the centerpiece, something that could be lowered and whisked away as it morphed into the wedding scene. I felt a pang that I wouldn’t be able to do the wedding scene anymore, but …well, let’s just say there were a lot of things I couldn’t afford to think about right now.
My phone pinged.
It was Adam.
Tamara told me the news. You can’t keep ignoring me, you know. You’re basically getting married to me in the morning, remember? :p
I flung my phone down onto the bed and tried not to think of him. Sweet, dark, irresistible Adam Morgan was the thing I could afford the least right now, that was for sure. Let him enjoy his weirdo girlfriend; I was on the skin of my arse and needed to think of myself. Oh, he was Bluebeard and I was Boulotte. I didn’t care about how many other wives he had buried in his secret chamber. I was going to act, and I was going to be a professional. And I was going to ignore each and every one of his stupid messages.
I woke the next morning fired up with fresh energy. I walked briskly and arrived at the college well before everyone else, while the air was still icy and I could watch the clouds a little before heading in. People shed their coats and scarves at the entrance and slowly began to take on their stage roles, to unpack the props and plug in the lights, to crack open the thick scripts and rummage in their bags for pink highlighters and lip balm. As usual, he was late. Late to his own wedding.
“Channeling Boulotte this morning, are we?”
I turned to see a smiling Tamara come behind me and playfully tap my dangling earrings. As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I was trying to do. It wasn’t a dress rehearsal, but why the hell not? It had cost me a lot, this scary debut as an ‘actress’, so I might as well make the most of it, right?
“We’ll start just as soon as Adam’s here,” she said and gave me a knowing look.
“Sure, no problem at all,” I said, and she nodded.
“You uh …you OK to do the kissy bit?” she said, trying to sound lighthearted.
The kissy bit. Well, the truth was, it was infinitely harder to not kiss Adam than it was to kiss him. Kissing Adam had come so easily to me I had hurled myself headlong into his arms at every opportunity. No, the torture would be to stay mad at him, to remember that he wasn’t good for me, to kiss him, but not too much. To kiss him, but not mean it. To look like I meant it, but not to really mean it. He could kiss me as an actress. But he would never kiss me kiss me again. Just kiss me. I was resolved.
“I think I can handle it,” I said breezily.
She patted me on the shoulder and went to fuss over with a group of crew members as they put together a makeshift arch. I took a deep breath. I liked this. I could do this. Acting. Maybe it was in my blood, after all.
The doors banged open and everyone turned to look. Adam, of course, making a grand entrance. I studiously ignored him and pored over my script instead. As if he had his own gravity, he sauntered over to the stage and warped and bent everyone’s attention as he did, catching a trail of quiet looks, leaving a little wake of silence behind him as people watched.
He was just as hot as always. Just as animally magnetic as always. It was mightily inconvenient, to ignore a man so obviously unignorable …but I did it all the same. People looked to me for a second, realized there wouldn’t be any off-stage drama this morning, and quickly got back to their work. Out the corner of my eye I watched him chat a little with Tamara. Fine. I could do this. Channeling Boulotte. Channeling the great Norman Westling, why not.
Everyone settled and found their places on stage and we began.
I lost myself to the flow of the moment.
I loved this.
Loved watching the ballet behind the ballet, the coordinated cogs of this great drama machine. I loved how it came together, all the separate threads, timed just right, telling a smooth, full story. It was nothing less than magic to me. I stood in the wings and watched the forest nymphs and various ‘wedding spirits’ dance their part on the stage. They were wearing Primark tights and ratty gym shirts, but I could see that they were woodland sprites, could see them leap high into the air like the otherworldly beings they were.
“Good …good, lots of energy here, lots of joy everyone …good, keep it light…” I heard Tamara’s voice from behind the heavy velvet curtain.
I didn’t have to look to know he was standing there, in the opposite wing. I didn’t have to look to know that he had worn the same trousers he always wore to rehearsals, the same light grey ones I had peeled off his excited body more time than I could remember. I didn’t have to look to know that he was looking at me.
“And two three four, then out with the nymphs, nice …down comes the wreath…” I heard Tamara saying. The nymphs’ footsteps were hard on the boards, and I felt them bounce as they sprung off stage and cleared the way for the arch to descend. And then, all eyes were on us. I paced out into the strong light, face filled with fearful wonder. And there before me, pacing towards me, was Bluebeard himself.
I saw it all. I saw the evil eyes of a sorcerer, one with the faint smell of murder still on him, one with white gloved hands and a perfect smile, but sharp teeth and too much spring in the step. A handsome man. Alluring. Exciting. But completely dangerous.
I flitted my eyes closed and came to stand beside him, the full magnitude of what I was doing washing over me. I didn’t become Boulotte. I was Boulotte, from my dainty feet to the top of my doomed head. My wedding. The moment my life transformed, fairy-tale-wise, from dry bread and worn clothes and pig sties to candied fruit and chamber music. It was perfect. Hopelessly, disastrously perfect.
Then, with every fiber of my body, I fluttered open my eyes and looked into the dark face of my husband. He didn’t become Bluebeard. He was Bluebeard. I trembled in my shoes. I trembled elsewhere. He was an aristocrat, a worldly man. A man who would …show me things. I gulped and looked up at him. Adoringly. A delicious fear tinkling in all my wedding jewels.
“Nice, good …lots of foreboding here. Jeremy no more pink light, you’re too heavy handed there, yes, good…” I heard Tamara’s voice puncturing through everything.
The moment swept on.
I remembered my lines and spoke them as my own. The set moved and flowed around us, our movements and speech carefully choreographed. Soon, he would take my hands. We would seal our devilish union with a kiss. It was written in the script.
“Good …OK, Adam a little less enthusiasm from you …just for the time being. I like it; let’s keep going…” said Tamara.
I heard the creaking and wheeling of the pro
ps moving around us as we stepped forward, came onto a platform, waited for the wedding party to surround and frame us. It was only chipboard and stand-in tinsel. But it was also a breathtaking wedding of unparalleled splendor, a deliciously evil pairing of the sacrificial lamb to a man with cloven hooves hidden in his expensive calf-skin shoes. I could see it all. And I spoke, and moved, and the story unfolded around me…
The wedding party shrank away from us and the light concentrated overhead, too-bright and painful.
Now was the moment. A kiss to seal the deal. The mortal signature on the immortal contract.
He took my hands in his. I could see him breathing with excitement, with devilish anticipation. I realized that I was …turned on. Very turned on. I gave him my hands and lost myself in his eyes, standing before him, his.
My lips parted instinctually. He leaned down towards me, hands gentle, eyes vicious. In the time it took him to close and open his dark-lashed eyelids once, I watched my girlish life flash before my eyes, watched the seasons change and the rim of a new era spinning before me, and a great chasm opened up and I was on the rim, about to fall in forever. I couldn’t help myself. I closed my eyes and offered my lips up to his, and he kissed me.
My sigh was a groan, a cry of a forest creature pierced through the heart. As I kissed him, a flock of birds exploded from the forest behind us. A glass chalice slipped off the table and shattered on a stone floor. The light popped into fragments around us and fell twinkling at our feet. Then a darkness descended. A thick, deadly darkness – blacker than black. Black so black that it became …blue.
I pulled away and saw my kiss, still wet, lingering on his lips. He smiled; a smile of victory. The music came to an end and he dropped my hands.
“Yes, oh my god yes! That is precisely what we’re after!”
I woke up from my daydream and looked to see Tamara on her feet, watching the stage intently with the rest of the crew around her, frozen as they witnessed what was unfolding on stage with awe.