Ethan had never experienced this. Had never had his own emotions bleed so completely into a role that he had to continually remind himself that what happened onstage wasn’t real. But even though his heart might’ve known he wasn’t Romeo and Charlie wasn’t Juliet and they weren’t star-crossed and weren’t in love, something about it all was true: within the confines of this specific performance, under those particular lights, on this night, there were sparks. The professional sparks, the necessary ones that the audience feels when everyone is doing their job. Chemistry. He had known it in his first scene with Charlie. He had known it without having to glance at the second row during the curtain call to find Miles, wiping a tear. Or when he saw Sierra standing in applause. Even before Charlie had whispered into his ear, “Nice, Mercutio,” as they took their bow.
After the hugs and the molting of the costumes and the greetings of the audience and the harboring of secrets and the introductions, they walked to the Fourteenth Line all together. Miles had advised him to pretend they didn’t know each other and he would call him “Ethan” instead of “Rob.” “I think we should forget about that letter, trust me, you’re doing fine without it,” Miles whispered on the way there. “And I’m not sure it would help her to know you wrote it.”
“No, it’s supposed to help me for her to know.” Ethan was confused. For some reason he had expected tonight would finally be the big reveal. “I spilled my guts out in there and my heart and...everything. I thought you thought she should know that.”
“No, I think you should just keep your guts and heart where they are now.” Miles said it kindly, with certainty, and made his way into the Fourteenth Line. Ethan followed the group, trying to make sense of this, but didn’t understand. He felt deflated. His truest self was in that letter and he had spent so much time imagining Charlie reading it, and those words meaning something to her, that he wasn’t sure he could just let it go.
Charlie was surrounded by her castmates and friends, including Marlena Andes. (The Marlena Andes—Ethan almost couldn’t fully absorb that another star of that wattage had watched him tonight and she had even told him, You were beautiful.) But now Ethan felt his postshow luster and confidence rapidly fading as he retreated to the periphery of Charlie’s circle, watching instead of participating. Back to himself. The thrill wearing off, leaving him only with a sense of disappointment. A swift mood swing and adrenaline crash as epic as the surge he had experienced preshow.
He guzzled his beer then switched to a Vodka Red Bull.
“Not the ending you hoped tonight?” Sierra asked, knocking her shoulder against his.
He shook his head. “You know when you build something up in your mind?”
She smiled and exhaled. “Yeah, I get it.”
“Of course you do, sorry.” He thought back to that night Chase had given her Harlow’s necklace. “You always get it. Thank you for always getting it, not making me feel like a total idiot.”
“I’m an idiot too, so it’s cool.”
* * *
Walking back to their dorm, Ethan’s hands buried in his pockets, he struggled to find the words. “I’m not sure what I expected,” he said, still embarrassed.
“I’m familiar with that feeling,” she said.
But he couldn’t stop himself. “I wrote Charlie a letter.”
“Like tonight? On a cocktail napkin or something?”
“No,” he said. “Before we got here, before I even knew she would be here.”
“Wait, what?”
“For this drama class we had to write to someone we admired and tell them why.”
“A fan letter.”
“Yeah, but, I don’t know, more about art and the imprint it makes on your soul kind of thing.”
“Wow, okay.”
“So, you know, she owns that movie theater in the North End.”
“I guess I heard about that. I don’t really get out much,” she said, softly.
“So I go there all the time because it’s close by and I have, like, no friends—”
“I’m sure that’s not true—”
“Trust me,” he said. “I never see her there, but I got to know Miles pretty well, and mentioned to him that I had this letter and I wasn’t ever going to actually give it to her, but then he told me I should because that would be good for her to hear, so I showed it to him—” they reached the Quad and he lay down on the ledge surrounding the flower beds, still talking, as though on the couch in a therapist’s office “—and Miles decided he would give it to her, and vouch that I’m not crazy—” He paused a moment, looked up at her. She had sat down beside him on the ledge and smiled at this.
“I know, debatable—” he said.
“No. You’re the least crazy person I know,” she said.
“Anyway, he gave it to Charlie.”
“And she never said anything?”
“I don’t know if she ever even read it. If she did then I don’t think she knows it’s me. I signed it Robert, you know, before I tried to become this actor, or whatever,” he said. “But anyway, the day Miles passed it along to her, she had the car accident that night.”
“Wow, that sounded really horrific, but somehow she was completely okay—”
“I know. And there was never the right time for—”
“You’ve gotta tell her—” she cut him off.
“Wait.” He sat up. “I mean, you think?”
“I don’t even know what it said, but I know you and yeah.” She nodded. “If you were, you know, creepy or ugly or something, then I’d be like, ‘Hey, maybe just forget that note.’”
“Thanks—” He lay down again, this time his head on her lap.
“But I just feel like, people should know they matter to you,” she said. “I mean, wouldn’t you love to, matter to someone?” She paused a moment, her eyes up at the stars. He felt himself drifting off to sleep, listening as she went on. “Maybe that’s not the best example, because you know, you matter to me, or whatever. You know what I mean, I don’t know...”
* * *
Charlie and Marlena closed the place down, outlasting even Chase, who tried to walk Marlena to her hotel but was thwarted. “Girl talk,” Marlena explained.
As soon as he took his leave—kissing Marlena on the cheek—Marlena, all six feet of her in heels, looked at Charlie from the corner of her eye. “Chase is still annoyingly gorgeous.”
“True,” Charlie said, as though it were fact.
“Anything there?” Marlena asked, an eyebrow cocked.
“Oh, God, no!” Charlie said. “We were destined to be just a one-night stand.”
“Good to know,” Marlena said mischievously. “In that case—” But she was interrupted by a trio of drunken collegians spilling out of King’s.
“We love you, Marlena!”
“Are you gonna live? PLEEEASE!” They all shouted over each other, referencing the season’s cliff-hanger.
“Love you too!” She waved as they walked on. “We’ll see! Keep watching!” She blew them a kiss.
“See, you are so good at this,” Charlie said.
“Not really, just in the zone right now.” She smoothed back her blond curls. “But, you know the real me is like, ‘Do you love me? Do I love me? Please love me! Keep loving me! Someone!’” Marlena laughed at herself and Charlie did too.
“That I get,” Charlie said, speaking for herself. “And I love you.”
“You better.” Marlena linked arms with her. “And while we’re on the subject—as I was saying, if you all are strictly platonic—”
“Chase? One thousand percent yes—”
“Then I have to tell you—” She turned to face Charlie, her eyes brightening beneath luscious lashes. “Chase totally held my hand! Tonight. After the show!”
“What? Tell me everything,” Charlie said, excited.
“That is very interesting,” Charlie said, wheels turning.
“Do not tell him I told you.” She pointed at Charlie.
“And, he kissed you.”
“Just on the cheek,” Marlena said.
“You’ve had a crush on him since we met—”
“Guilty. But, I mean, nothing could happen. Unless...” She trailed off. “But, no, that’s a big unless.”
“He’s changed, I think, actually.” Charlie had felt a shift in him ever since that night on her balcony. “So, you just never know, is all. Unless you go for it.”
“We’ll see. I’ll be back to see Midsummer—you’re turning me into such a Shakespeare junkie,” Marlena said. “And in the meantime, your costar is delicious. In case you hadn’t noticed.” She meant Mercutio, who had played Romeo opposite her Juliet tonight, and gave Charlie a look.
“Overlooking the fact that he’s young enough to be my child, if I had been a teen mom—”
“You with all your excuses—” Marlena cut in.
“I just think I already have enough extracurricular drama with the people in this production,” she laughed, holding open the door into the hotel lobby.
“Just have fun,” she cooed. “I mean, act like you’re having fun. Get me?”
“Ohhh.” Charlie stopped, a revelation. “Like, in front of Nick?”
“Seriously, you didn’t think of that on your own?” Marlena shook her head, curls bouncing. “Where’s your game, girl? Thank God I’m here.”
45
THIS IS YOUR CALLBACK
The music pulsed at the Fourteenth Line—again Sierra and Ethan’s second time there in a week, they were almost regulars haunting that same corner of the mahogany bar—as the cast, apprentices and audience from that night’s show flowed in, this time to celebrate the end of Romeo and Juliet’s run.
“You still haven’t told her,” Sierra said to Ethan, accusatory, as Charlie walked past with Matteo and settled at a table near the stage marked Reserved. Chase was already there, chatting with Danica and her girlfriend.
“Maybe I did tell her and it didn’t go well, so I didn’t bother telling you.” He practically inhaled his Vodka Red Bull. “What is Alex doing?” He was distracted by the stage, where his roommate now stood at the microphone, apparently for an impromptu performance. The familiar music kicked in: Hamilton. “Of course.”
“That guy is not throwing away his shot,” Sierra replied with the song lyrics. A commotion at the front door stole their attention from Alex as Jasmine Beijao swanned in barely wearing a coral sheath halter dress. She pressed through the crowd, pushing her assistant as a human bulldozer clearing the way. She immediately found Nick, kissed him in greeting, which he seemed startled by, and installed herself at his table up front. “You know what?” Sierra said, thinking. “You’re not throwing away your shot either.”
“Are we drinking shots now?” Ethan asked, confused.
“No, with Charlie, because she is over there hating life right now, because of what’s going on over there.” Sierra pointed to Jasmine. “Go talk to her.”
“What am I supposed to say?” Ethan said, hand through his hair, entirely lost. In the background, a young, scrappy and hungry Alex rapped his song. Ethan watched and Sierra could see an idea strike Ethan. He nodded as though accepting it and said to Sierra, eyes still on the stage, “You’re right. I’m gonna sing.”
“Ohmygod, what?” It was all Sierra could do not to spit out her drink in shock.
Ethan took off, cutting through the crowd to the stage. He said something to the drummer. Then the guy with the acoustic guitar handed it over and suddenly Ethan was at the microphone with the guitar. His body haloed in the spotlight, he began to strum.
Ethan didn’t introduce the song, didn’t dedicate it. He didn’t even so much as look in Charlie’s direction, where she stood huddled with Matteo. But the moment he played those first few chords, she turned toward the stage, cocked her head, intrigued, and watched with a coy smile.
Sierra was riveted. She had heard the theme song to Midnight Daydream many times before—it was a solid semi-hit, doing better on the charts than the film had at the box office—but never on acoustic guitar. Never like this. She loved how Ethan talked his way through the song as though he had written it.
She wouldn’t have thought she would be able to look away, until someone sat beside her at the bar. “I owe you a long-overdue apology,” the voice said.
It was Chase Embers.
* * *
Ethan couldn’t bear to even glance at Charlie. He would’ve been too destroyed if she wasn’t listening or didn’t seem to like what she’d heard. He wasn’t that great, but he could play, and it was the kind of song you could almost just recite; it didn’t require a whole lot. And it was short, which was a huge selling point. It hadn’t gone so bad. People clapped, some even cheered, and as he stepped off the stage, intending to walk all the way to the back of the room, reclaim his spot by the bar, Charlie yanked his arm.
“Mercutio, you’re full of surprises.” She actually smiled.
“Am I?” he asked, shaking his head. “Well, it’s a good song from a great film.”
“Brought back memories, thanks for that.” She looked over his shoulder, a mischievous glint.
Ethan could imagine who she might be watching. He glanced in Sierra’s direction for encouragement and, finding her still talking to Chase, felt unusually empowered.
“So, just wanted to mention,” he started. “In the event you’re ever looking to make him jealous, Nicholas—”
Charlie’s focus snapped to Ethan. “Oh?” she asked, an intrigued inflection.
“—then I would be honored to audition for that role.” He couldn’t believe he had said it and feared he might have actually offended her.
But a slow smile curled her lips. “And what exactly would that role be?” She sipped her drink innocently.
He shrugged, smiled, as if to say, You tell me.
“You seem too sweet for anything I’d have in mind.” She looked toward Nicholas and Jasmine again.
“I can play against type,” Ethan said.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
She nodded. “Dating anyone? I don’t need any drama.”
His eyes landed on Sierra and Chase. “No,” he said, firmly. Then to Charlie again. “Is this an audition?”
“That was the audition.” She flicked her head toward the stage, where another group belted a song from Rent. She circled him now, arms folded. “This is the callback.”
“What do I need to do to land the job? Do you need me to fall in love with you?”
“Absolutely not,” she snapped.
“Okaaay. I promise not to fall in love with you.”
“You’re on,” she said easily. “Act One, Scene One.” She grabbed his hand, leading him past Matteo—who shook his head at them—and Nicholas. She stopped near enough to the stage to catch some of the light, and pulled him into a kiss. He kissed her back, in keeping with his role, and when he nearly drew away, she locked him in again.
He’d expected it to feel more real than it had onstage when it had been choreographed, part of the show, but it felt...the same. It felt like performance instead of truth. Still, he had no doubt it appeared plenty believable to anyone bothering to watch. And when she did finally inch away, she left her hand on the back of his neck, stared in his eyes. He noticed her glance over his shoulder a second and then she whispered in his ear, “We’re leaving, now.”
He wasn’t sure where exactly they were going, but he didn’t ask questions. He just smiled, stare
d back into her eyes, nodded, and then at once, swooped her up, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her through the crowd and right out the door. As soon as they got outside, he put her down, and she laughed, pulling his arm to tug him around the corner and out of sight. They crouched down in the alleyway, peeking from the side of the building.
“Nice ad-lib,” she whispered, impressed.
“What now?” he asked.
She grabbed his forearm to quiet him. “Wait for it,” she said, confident.
Moments later, the door to the bar flung open and Nicholas ran out onto the sidewalk. He stopped halfway down the block, not far from them. Then turned to look the other way, into the darkness. They slunk back farther, swallowed up into the shadows, stifling laughter. A few minutes later, she nodded that it was clear.
Ethan offered to walk her home, but she said she would be fine. She gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek, thanking him, then gently cradled his face in her hands.
“You’re good at this, Mercutio,” she said into his eyes. “Not just this,” she laughed, referring to tonight’s charade. “But all of it.” And with a wave, she disappeared back toward Avon.
* * *
That was what Nick got for moving the party from King’s? He had done that for her.
She probably hadn’t even noticed. She had been busy. He kicked the rocks in his path as he walked away from the bar. The kiss shouldn’t have bothered him, he had seen that before—last week on stage, for instance. But there had been costumes and sets and other actors and a script and it wasn’t really them. Tonight though... He’d seen this kind of thing plenty: two actors have a good night on stage and that mess of magic and magnetism bleeds offstage. Excess energy in search of an outlet. Nothing more. Hopefully.
Meanwhile, he had gone out of his way to not even so much as shake Jasmine’s hand tonight. He hoped Charlie noticed how he’d worked to distance himself from Jasmine, as much as humanly possible.
The streets vibrated with so many people out enjoying the summer night. He wasn’t ready to go home and found himself walking toward the edge of Chamberlain village.
The Summer Set Page 21