Backstage (The Barter System Book 4)

by McClendon, Shayne

  The brothers had often discussed their respect for Madeline’s view of the world. On the story board in her office was a message she’d written as a reminder to herself:

  “There is still much to be done before equality is reality. We can’t rest on the accomplishments of the women who made the biggest strides…the right to vote, the right to work in the same fields as men, and so on. Until every woman has absolute control over every aspect of her life, until every woman can walk safely through the world – free – equality is a fucking illusion.”

  Her play – while funny – spoke to the plights of women that weren’t newsworthy. The daily grind of life that went unnoticed, accepted as the norm, generation after generation.

  In the first act, Mikayla’s character is met by several men. Each is a horrible representation of the male gender and their true colors are quickly revealed through assorted scenes of unfortunate hilarity. A gambler, an adulterer, a bum with no plans to find work, and a bad-tempered man who attempts to slap her across the face and finds himself beaten on the floor.

  One by one is verbally thrashed by Mikayla amidst the cheers of the audience at her cleverness. Dancing away after her experience with each, her growing anger and frustration is clear.

  Her first full musical number was a soulful tune about men being the bane of her existence. The bluesy feel offset the hysterical lyrics punctuated by the laughter of the crowd.

  No matter how many times Isaiah had heard her sing it, it continued to make him smile.

  The second act built on the comedic element of the first, with Madeline in her role as a gypsy matchmaker, disguised in a full body suit, latex makeup, and gray-haired wig. She played off Mikayla’s character flawlessly.

  Stepping out of her small home – the trailer that now resembled a gypsy cart from the Middle Ages – she started to bring her crystal ball, shrugged, and tossed it carelessly to her husband inside.

  The song the sisters sang together was a naughty limerick about finding the perfect man. Several men in the theater groaned after particularly saucy lines.

  “One man who isn’t a loser…is that too much to ask?”

  The gypsy grinned. “Nah, there’s some good ones…you gotta be willing to sift through the recyclables though.” Hands on her hips, she shook her head. “The perfect man, per se, does not exist. The perfect woman either but, eh, we tend to get closer to the mark. However, you can mold one out of raw materials if he has good bones. What you need is a fixer upper!”

  “A fixer upper?”

  “A man with some potential that you can train not to pee on the carpet or hump your guests’ legs. You have to be willing to do the work, girl!”

  “I am…I’m willing to do the work. Where do we start?”

  The old woman grabbed a passing man and circled him. “Let’s see what we have here. Check him out, honey. Don’t be shy. Even when you buy a horse to tow your cart, you want him to have some get up and go, if you know what I’m saying.”

  “Um…not really.”

  “Mental note to school you on owning your sass.” She rubbed her hands together. “Now, you’re not a bad-looking fellow but you seem a little slouchy. Stand up straight, boy! You have a possible female customer and you boys need to take that seriously. As long as we control the hoo-ha, you need to put in a little effort!”

  For almost a minute, they peppered him with questions and it was soon clear to the audience that he wasn’t very bright. With a disgusted look on her face, the gypsy mumbled, “You gotta kiss him.”

  “Ugh! Why?”

  A quirk of the old woman’s brow and Mikayla kissed the prospect before pretending to gag. Waving the guy away, the matchmaker sighed. “I can work with a lot but a lack of chemistry is fatal.”

  After two failed attempts, they chose a man who seemed to fit the basic requirements. Rushing him into the store, they worked together to give him an overhaul. His clothes and hair received an update before they tutored him on proper manners and dancing.

  Their efforts were watched by the laughing audience through the large store window. The three of them left the shop and Kayla walked around him with a critical eye.

  Shaking her head, she muttered, “I suppose he’ll have to do.”

  “Girl, we settle. You think I didn’t settle?”

  Pointing to her small trailer, she snapped her fingers. The gypsy’s husband can be seen through the window. He’s a pot-bellied man with an elaborate comb-over, reclined in a La-Z-Boy, and his eyes glued to a football game. Unconcerned about anything happening around him, he wore baggy boxers and a stained t-shirt.

  When he released an impressive burp, the old woman’s face contorted in complete disgust. “I run my business. He scratches his balls. Thank god he takes care of the horses because his days of taking care of me are long gone.”

  Obviously confused, Mikayla asked, “Why are you still with him?”

  “Habit, child. We get in them and that’s that.”

  “I hope I never settle into a life of habit. I want love and laughter.”

  “It’s not so bad. I’ve set up hundreds of couples and only a few have that extra something that makes them perfect for each other. We do our time and try not to kill each other on bad days.” She shrugged. “For most, that’s enough. Nobody likes to be alone. Get a little house, have a couple kids, take a cruise on your anniversary. What more can you ask for?”

  “A whole lot…but I guess this is the best I’m going to get.”

  “That’s the spirit! It’s been a pleasure, dear.” The matchmaker waddled away to her cart and yelled over her shoulder, “Give him hell!”

  Mikayla and the man sang a song together. It was an upbeat number where he professed that he would love and care for her, put her first, and always be the man she “fell in love” with.

  Coming to a complete stop in the dance, she replied deadpan, “I seriously doubt that but you give it your best shot.”

  He continued to tell her all the ways he was going to improve her life while they danced fast across the stage. Then he spun her, dipped her low, and kissed her deeply.

  From his position in the lighting booth, Isaiah watched Mikayla flinch before she covered it.

  Standing her upright, he asked what she planned to do for him, since he promised so much. She danced cheerfully and explained that she wouldn’t kill him in his sleep when his snoring kept her awake, would refrain from burning the dirty clothes he left on the floor, would stop herself from lacing his food with poison when he’s late without calling, and would leave him his masculinity when she did a better job of pleasing herself than he’s capable.

  He gave her a clueless shrug and accepted her terms, blatantly leering at her body and focused on only one thing. Her dramatic eye roll and sigh of resignation highlighted her understanding that she knew exactly what she was getting. They danced off the stage together and the audience clapped loudly.

  The third act took place several years into the couple’s future. The backdrop was the home she made with the man she settled on. The spotlight focused on Mikayla wearing an unattractive housedress as she stood over the stove with her hand on her hip.

  The home was neat, but she looked tired as ill-behaved children ran through the kitchen and her husband – now gone to fat – watched football, oblivious to everything around him.

  His deliberate ignorance and laziness fed her clear frustration. A look of disgust crossed her face as he scratched his balls with deep concentration.

  Through her kitchen window, she noticed a deliveryman walk to the house next door to drop off a package. The first song from the play drifted softly through her mind as she unashamedly admired the man’s body and energy.

  Without looking away from the television, her husband yelled across the house to ask when dinner would be ready.

  Mikayla closed her eyes, resting her palms on the counter, and said to herself, “I thought you’d help me…instead, you make things so much harder. You’re nothing more than anoth
er chore to check off my endless task list.”

  She sang about her need to be held by a man who truly cared about her pleasure, who appreciated how hard she worked in and out of her home, and wondered at her husband’s unwillingness, despite her efforts, to be such a man.

  “I need a partner…not a child. If you’re not going to help me, I’ll do it my damn self.”

  The sound of children fighting, the football game, and the phone ringing got louder and louder. Throwing down her spoon, she turned off the oven, removed her apron, and stormed from the kitchen. In front of him, she waited for him to acknowledge her.

  “I work all week just like you. I still take care of the house, the kids, and the chores. I don’t get to sit here watching television.”

  There was a slow nod of his head and he went back to watching the game. Walking toward the bedroom, she started to unbutton her housedress.

  “I will not settle, not one more day. I’d rather be alone than exist as a tourist in my own life.” Without missing a beat, he asked her retreating back when dinner would be ready. “Order take-out.”

  The door slammed. Less than a minute later, she emerged with her hair up, wearing a sexy red dress and killer heels. After a comical double take, the husband adjusted his groin.

  “No, darling. You have a date with the television. I don’t need a man to pay my bills, fix my sink, or make me feel complete. The only use I’ve found for them is to take me dancing and once in a while provide a fleeting orgasm.”

  “Baby, I love you…”

  “You love yourself more than you will ever love me and I’m done pretending that’s okay. I’ll figure out the house and kids but you and me…we’re done. I’m not settling one more day. Not one.”

  He tried to respond but she hit him with a few more verbal digs and the audience laughed loudly.

  “I might not be perfect but I’m not wasting my time trying to make something out of nothing. Later.”

  Opening her front door, she danced into the street where the deliveryman took her in his arms for a hot salsa. “Where you been all my life, pretty girl?”

  “Settling.” The stage lights lowered as she added, “You’ll do…for a little while. Don’t get attached…because this isn’t going to be a love story. I have shit to do.”

  The matchmaker tapped across the stage in their wake as the curtain dropped in place.

  Cheers and applause grew in volume as Ezra brought the lights back up and the curtain rose. The cast assembled along the front of the stage and took a coordinated bow. The cheers and catcalling were unreal. The brothers witnessed success in the making.

  Ezra grinned, his pride in the final result obvious. “They fucking did it. We’re going to be sold out for every show. They just made themselves famous…and us a fucking fortune.”

  After a standing ovation, Mikayla lead Madeline backstage to remove the gypsy dress, made to increase her breasts to a comical size and spread out her hips and waist. She also removed the latex makeup and wig that aged her several decades.

  They reappeared with Madeline barefoot, wearing a flesh-toned bodysuit, her natural hair in a snug chignon at the base of her neck. The sisters shared a hard hug and the moment the audience realized they were twins, the crowd reaction turned thunderous.

  When she accepted a microphone from one of the stagehands, the theater slowly quieted. Madeline took a moment to speak about the charity the performance benefitted and asked patrons to give as much as they could.

  Her southern accent charmed them.

  “Thank you for being our first live audience for Not That Desperate – I hope you enjoyed the show. Special thanks must be given to the incomparable Zelder brothers who made every step of this journey possible with their kindness and expertise. We’ll see you at the party!”

  The Johannson sisters left the stage with a wave, the rest of the cast following behind them.

  “Have we ever been publicly thanked?” Ezra asked quietly, obviously as floored as Isaiah who shook his head. “I didn’t think so. Let’s get down there.”

  After giving specific instructions to their teams, the Zelder brothers headed backstage.

  He wouldn’t approach her but Isaiah had every intention of seeing Mikayla’s initial reaction to her first live performance. She’d nailed it and she deserved to feel exceptional.

  He wanted a quick peek and then he’d head home.

  Chapter Five

  The moment they cleared the stage, Madeline pulled Mikayla into a crushing hug. “Sissy, you were so relaxed and beautiful! You nailed it and I’m so proud of you.”

  “Your play is going to be fucking famous, Linn! I love you so much.”

  “It wouldn’t have been the same without you. Thanks for helping to make it a reality.” Madeline held her tight and they turned arm-in-arm to congratulate the rest of the cast and thank the stagehands who’d supported them without a hitch.

  The two of them were hugged repeatedly and they made their way to Theodora’s serving station for water. The tiny woman gave them a huge smile as they approached.

  “I heard the applause and knew you blew them away. I can’t wait to see the recording.” She pressed chilled water bottles in their hands. “I’ll save plates for both of you at the party but I made some snacks for you to take the edge off.”

  “You’re a lifesaver because I’m starving,” Mikayla admitted. Her eyes widened when she saw Theodora’s famous puff pastries. “This…I’m taking with me.”

  “Take as many as you want. The other girls aren’t going to touch them…you know that.”

  The three of them laughed together and Linn excused herself to use the restroom. “I need to wiggle my way out of this bodysuit so I need a head start. Hold down the fort until I change.”

  Nodding, she watched her sister run toward the cast hallway.

  As she reached out to grab some of her favorite treats, she heard her name and was whirled into introductions to a member of the cast’s family.

  Exhausted but exhilarated, Mikayla kept an eye out for Isaiah. She couldn’t wait to see him again. This time in full light, so she could clearly read his every expression. There hadn’t been enough time to talk to him, to touch him, as much as she’d wanted.

  She planned to make up for it in spades.

  When she didn’t catch a glimpse of him after almost half an hour, she started looking more pointedly. There were dozens of people clustered in the close backstage area.

  An extremely tall, dark head came into view and she murmured a rushed goodbye to the brother of one of the dancers to make her way through the crowd.

  Grabbing his shoulder from behind, she called happily, “Isaiah!”

  The man turned and she realized it was his brother. She tried to hold her smile but it wasn’t easy. “Oh, Ezra. Hello.” Disappointed, she glanced around the space again. “Where’s Isaiah?”

  On tiptoe, her hand still on his shoulder to balance herself, she met Ezra’s eyes. Taking a deep breath, she lowered and dropped her hand. Working to hide her hurt, she asked, “He left, didn’t he?”

  “I’m sorry, Mikayla.”

  Blushing, she folded her hands in front of her. “I…might have scared him off. He might think I’m insensitive or unladylike.”

  He frowned. “What do you…? Mikayla. No, that isn’t it. It’s not you.” His smile was gentle. “You’re a perfect lady. Isaiah is enchanted with you.”

  “Then why?” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Why is he so isolated?”

  “He spends a lot of time alone, Mikayla. The accident took away his entire life as he knew it and he struggles.”

  It would have been difficult to explain her fascination with a man she barely knew. The mystery surrounding Isaiah had finally been answered and she wanted more time with him.

  She fought to hold back tears, saddened by the loss Isaiah suffered and wishing he could see the beauty she saw in him.

  Ezra’s big hands cupped her shoulders. “You should be
on top of the world right now.”

  “Sure. I know.” She shrugged. “I hoped to see him. That’s all.”

  Mikayla stared at the floor and thought she heard him murmur, “Fuck it.” With a small squeeze, he let her go and said, “He left through the side entrance.”

  Maybe she could still catch him.

  Without another word, she turned and ran for the exit in treacherously high heels. Mikayla hit the platform on the other side of the door fast, catching herself on the metal railing and peering up and down the alley. She spotted him a block away, shrugging into a jacket.

  Calling his name, she went down the stairs too fast, praying she didn’t trip in the heels she was still wearing from the last act and break her damn ankle. Madeline would kill her.

  On the pavement, she picked her way around boxes and crates set out for trash pickup. When it seemed clear, she started to run, keeping an eye on the ground.

  Hitting the solid wall of the man’s chest made the breath rush out of her. Isaiah’s arms went around her and she slid her hands along his sides without thought.

  “Mikayla, what are you doing out here?”

  Standing still, she realized it was rather chilly but before she could respond, he shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and wrapped it around her. Her hands slid further around him but she wasn’t able to respond.

  He was even more beautiful in better light.

  “Mikayla.”

  “Isaiah.”

  He stared into her face and said softly, “You’re not dressed for a New York alley, sweet young woman from the Midwest.” Isaiah took in her slinky red dress, held up with tiny straps. The stilettos were nothing but three small strips of leather. “On several levels but mainly the temperature. You need to get back inside before you get sick and your sister is forced to strangle you.”

  “Don’t leave.” She swallowed hard. “If you’re leaving because you think badly of me…”