by Jane Tara
“There you are,” he said as he walked backstage.
Rhi hadn’t seen him since he’d dropped her home on Saint Patrick’s Day, and that had been quite uncomfortable. “What are you doing here?”
“Just popped by for a chat.”
They stared for a moment, drinking each other in. Despite herself, she was pleased to see him.
“Did I interrupt something?” he asked.
“I was going to sort through the second dressing room.”
“Can I help?”
Rhi was taken aback. He’d visited, but never offered to help before. “Of course you can.”
“After all, it’s my dressing room.”
Rhi swiveled on her heel and walked back into the dressing room. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“Did I say something wrong?”
Rhi, eyes flashing and hands on hips, snapped around. “Listen, this is my theater now. My lease. My money renovating it. My hands getting blisters. My theater. Get used to it.”
“But when I play Hamlet, I’ll have this dressing room. Wow, you’re really uptight.”
Rhi had been surrounded by actors long enough to understand their insecurities, as frustrating as they were. “Yes, you can have this dressing room. Jesus, you’d swear you were Gielgud.”
“Then I’ll help you get it in order.”
He didn’t help. Instead he lounged in a chair, his long, muscular legs stretched out before him, and watched her as she cleaned and cleared the room. At first, it made her uncomfortable, his dark, dreamy eyes watching her every move. But before long she forgot about his looks, his languid posture and suggestive grin, and found herself enjoying the conversation.
“Theater comes from the Greeks and the word means seeing place. Stella Adler said it’s the place people come to see the truth about life…or something like that.” He placed his hands behind his head. “So where did you train?”
“Columbia.”
“Did you always want to perform?”
“Yes. How about you?”
“My mother once said I was born performing. I had a set of lungs that understood voice projection right at birth. She was horrified.”
Rhi laughed. “And you come from a theatrical family.”
“No, my parents thought the theater was for vagabonds and thieves.”
Rhi didn’t understand how this could be, seeing his father died in this very theater and his mother still acted. But she didn’t have time to ask; he was off again.
“That’s what actors were, you know, during Elizabethan times. We revere Shakespeare today, but his players were considered to be nothing more than rogues. I think actors are still seen like that by their audience, but it’s this rejection that has strengthened our bonds, don’t you think? It’s a tight-knit community.”
“There might be some truth in that. I’ve never thought about it. Though I’m not sure audiences feel that way about actors any more.”
“Of course they do. They always will. The general public will always judge the performer. It’s the very nature of the audience.”
“I think they only judge us when we don’t move them.”
“Iris Murdoch once said that—and I paraphrase here—that actors regard the audience as their enemy, mainly because the audience sits there night after night in judgment.”
“I do often think of the audience as a single entity, a beast to be tamed, but never my enemy.”
“One single audience member. I think I was in that play.” He roared with laughter. “How many nights have you emoted your guts out, despite the empty seats?”
Rhi had to laugh. She knew exactly what he was talking about. “I’m hoping that will never happen here.”
She knew she was on a rollercoaster with this man. One minute she felt like she could curl up in his arms, both sexy and safe. But then he’d drag her up onto her toes with his outrageous wit, his challenging ways. She looked at him now, his eyes piercing into her. He talked like it was a battle to the death sometimes.
Before she knew it, the dressing room was finished. All it needed was a coat of paint, which she would do later. She walked over to the door and was just about to remove the silver star when he jumped up.
“Don’t touch that.”
“Why not?”
He looked flustered and ran his hand through his hair. “Silly old superstition…let it stay.”
He’d lost his composure and was clearly upset. She stepped toward him, to comfort him, but then stalled. She realized she couldn’t smell him. That heady scent that made her dizzy when she got close was missing.
Rhi felt a rush of blood to her head, and all of a sudden he seemed hazy. She reached out for him but missed and her hand rested on the doorframe. Was something wrong with her eyes? What was he wearing? Was he wearing the same clothes all the time here?
“Rhiannon,” he snapped as he stepped away from her. “Have you eaten today?”
Rhi shook her head and looked at him. The room returned to normal. He returned to normal.
“No, I haven’t.” She smiled at him. “What were we saying?”
“You need to eat something.”
“You’re right.” Rhi wandered out the door and piled some of the rubbish against the wall. She’d carry it out to the dumpster later. Right now she needed air. “I’m going to call it a day.”
Chapter 23
It was finished. The final coat of exterior paint was drying. Inside was done and the curtains had been hung. Everything shone and glistened and beckoned people to enjoy the space. Rhi stood back, her arm slung around Annie’s shoulder, her new friends scattered around her, and surveyed the theater. It finally suited its name. It really was majestic.
Jake sniffed. “I think I’m going to cry.”
Annie gave him a playful punch. “You always know how to ruin a moment.”
“I don’t ruin it—I shine a humorous light on it.” He clapped his hands together. “This calls for a celebration.”
“All in agreement say aye,” Tye sang out.
There was a chorus of “Aye”, followed by laughter.
“I need to get home and put dinner on for the kids.” Vaniqua gave Rhi a kiss and headed for her car.
Hank and his drama students followed suit. “They’re too young to attend theater parties,” he explained.
Ren pulled a face as they walked off. “All work and no play. I so can’t wait until I’m twenty-one.”
“I’m sure the next five years will fly by, Ren,” Hank said.
“Before you go, Hank, can you take a photo? To mark the moment?” Tye called out.
Tye handed him her phone and then stood on the theater steps with Rhi, Annie, Jake and Sam. Big smiles, easy hugs, a perfect moment captured in time.
She leaped back down and took her phone back as Hank headed off.
“Don’t you dare put that on Facebook until we’ve all approved it,” said Annie.
“You can put it on mine,” Sam said.
“You don’t have a Facebook account,” Annie said.
“Oh that’s right, because I don’t need the whole world to know what I’m doing every minute of my day.” Sam turned to the others. “What now?”
“Party time,” Tye said.
“We’re all covered in paint.” Rhi held her paint-spattered arms out straight, to emphasize the point.
“Come over to mine,” Annie suggested. “Let’s have a clambake.”
Jake wrapped his arm around her. “I love your style.”
“I’ll lock up and meet you there,” Rhi said.
As the group headed to Annie’s, Rhi went back into the Majestic. She needed this moment, to absorb the enormity of it. She’d done it. She’d actually done it. She lifted her face to the sky and allowed the tears to roll.
“Christ, you cry a lot. I’m afraid I can’t offer you another hankie. You never gave the last one back.”
Rhi turned to look at Tad standing in the doorway. She hadn’t seen him since the day she’d le
ft the theatre early. She’d put that down to exhaustion and hunger, and was pleased to see him now. “Not to worry. These are tears of joy. And relief.”
“Ah, your tears fall into categories.” He scanned the room. “You deserve a howl. Magnificent job. What now?”
“I’m heading over to Annie’s for a clambake.”
“The Elvis film turned me off those things forever.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Clambake. Old Elvis film. He ponced around singing and dancing at a clambake, looking like he was having a marvelous time when really he ought to have been ashamed of himself. Awful film.”
“Forget about Elvis, you should come along.”
“Yes, I should…but can I? That is the question.”
“Listen…um…” She took a deep breath. What the hell! Crystal and Tye thought it was a good idea. And with the theatre complete, she was feeling invincible right now. “Do you want to go out with me sometime?”
“Out…with you?”
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
“On a date?”
“Yes.”
“I’m flattered, but no. I can’t.”
Rhi felt the heat spring into her cheeks. “Okay. Anyway, I have to go.” She turned, picked up a box of old theater papers that she intended to sort through at home, and started up the stairs. Then she felt him, felt his heat, standing so close behind her that they almost touched. Goose bumps prickled all over her skin. Her breathing became shallow.
“There’s a woman. We’re in limbo right now…or I am,” he whispered. “But I love her.”
“I didn’t realise.”
“Otherwise I would because you’re wonderful.”
“I understand,” she murmured without turning.
“What we have, Rhiannon…has surprised me. I do value it.”
“Me too.”
She closed her eyes and placed her hand on a nearby seat to steady her. Then, drawing on more strength that she ever knew she had, she headed for the door.
“I might see you at the clambake then,” she called cheerily. “Make sure you lock up.”
*
The others had already set up for the evening on the beach in front of Annie’s place. Annie had grabbed them all towels, and threw one Rhi’s way when she arrived.
“I’ve also called a few more friends. Let’s make a night of it.”
“Sounds good,” Rhi said, trying desperately to throw off the sting of humiliation.
“We’ve made a pit,” said Sam.
“Use the rocks I’ve got at the side of the house from the last fire pit,” Annie said.
Beck and Sal arrived with clams and lobsters. Annie’s neighbors, David and Mark, brought lemons and enough dessert to feed a football team, which was something they admitted they’d like to do. Vaniqua and her husband Morgan turned up with a case of wine.
“I thought you couldn’t party,” Rhi said.
“I said I had to feed my kids. Done that, and called the babysitter.”
Last to arrive was Tad, with a big bag of corn. “I’m the corny one. I also brought some instruments.”
He’d obviously gone home to change as he was now wearing shorts and a casual shirt that clung lightly to his chest. He gave Rhi a friendly wave but there was no indication of their earlier exchange—knowing him, he couldn’t remember it. Anyway, she refused to hide in shame. They’d just have to pretend it didn’t happen.
Everyone chipped in and began organizing the meal. Tye covered the table in brown paper, so that after their meal they could roll up the mess and throw it away, and placed wet wipes at each end. The others gathered seaweed and prepared the fire pit. And then as the sun set, they all swam in the ocean, Rhi washing the final remnants of theater paint from her skin.
She stood waist deep in the water. The water was cold but she barely felt it as she watched the horizon fade. She drew strength from the ocean. So a guy had rejected her offer to go on a date? Boo hoo. That wasn’t a reflection on her. As he’d said, he was involved with someone. Although it was strange that Tye and Crystal hadn’t mentioned that. Perhaps he was reeling over some woman who’d hurt him or something. Rhi respected his honesty. It didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends. Or at least friendly.
“Dinner!” yelled Jake from the beach.
Rhi turned to watch all her friends heading for the fire pit and Annie’s back terrace. She noticed Tye and Vaniqua laughing over something. She saw Sal stumble and Sam catch her arm. She smiled up at him, her affection obvious. Annie was organizing everyone, oblivious to it all. And then there was Tad. He was a tough nut to crack. One minute he was the life of the party, mainly their party of two, the next he was more subdued. Yes she was attracted to him, but she also just liked his company. She’d crossed the line by asking him out so now it was up to her to make things comfortable between them.
Rhi made her way up the beach and wrapped a towel around herself. Then, leaving her wet hair dripping down her back, she filled a plate with food and took a seat at the end of the table, next to Tad. Better to face the humiliation head on, and move on.
“I’ll sit here with you, in the corn-er,” she said to him, tucking into a cob. “That was a joke.”
“It was pretty corn-y.” Tad ate a clam and then wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“I guess the whole Elvis thing didn’t scare you off?”
“Elvis?”
“Clambake, the movie.”
“Oh right. I remember seeing that on TV as a kid. My father bitched and moaned all the way through it. Hated the film.” He smiled. “How does it feel to be celebrating the end of renovations? You’ve done a mighty job.”
“Much of that’s due to the entertaining company I’ve had while I’ve been working on it.” She smiled at him, wanting him to know that what happened earlier didn’t matter.
“Yes, I’ve heard everyone got involved.”
Rhi swallowed both her corn and her pride. “Listen, about today, I appreciate the way you handled things. Let’s just move on, okay.”
He looked at her for a moment too long and then stood up. “Good idea. I might play some music.” He walked into the house.
“Good idea. Do you take requests? How about ‘All By Myself?’” Rhi tried to hide her embarrassment.
“You talking to yourself?” Annie came and sat down beside her in Tad’s place. She was drinking wine like it was water.
“Have you eaten?” Rhi asked.
“I nibbled. Not that hungry.”
“You can’t drink on an empty stomach.” Rhi shoved a baked potato at her.
“Good, you’re feeding her,” said Tye, joining them.
“Hey, have you noticed Sam and Sal getting all cozy?” Annie said through a mouthful.
“Does that bother you?” Rhi asked.
“Christ, no, why would it?” But Annie’s eyes told a different story.
Rhi glanced at Tye. She’d seen it too.
“I think it’s time that one of you three finally breaks ranks.”
Annie stared across her yard for a moment and then tried to lighten the mood, even though both Rhi and Tye could see her heart wasn’t in it. “Things are okay the way they are.”
“You know that’s not true,” Tye said. “Your drinking is out of control because of it.”
Rhi raised her eyebrows, amazed that Tye would confront the issue head on like that. Rhi had tried it once with Victoria and she’d gone ballistic.
“I’ve had a few glasses of wine,” Annie said. “So what!”
“The minute Sam and Jake are around, you get drunk, because you can’t handle the pressure any more.”
“Thanks, Dr Phil.” Annie turned to Rhi. “What do you think?”
Rhi was surprised that her opinion counted. “I have noticed that you drink more when they’re around.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.” Rhi was worried about where this conversation was heading.
“What ca
n I say, they drive me to drink.”
Rhi watched as Jake and Tad started jamming on guitars. So he could play guitar too? The man was supremely talented. Then she noticed Annie’s face fall, and she followed her gaze toward the beach, where Sam and Sal were walking away from the house.
“You’re both right,” Annie said. “Enough is enough. I love them both…and even if I did have feelings for one more than the other, which I don’t, how could I choose? Impossible. We all need to move on. And I need to lay off the wine.”
And with that, she put her glass down, turned and walked back into the house, leaving Rhi staring after her in amazement.
Chapter 24
Rhi stretched out on a sunlounger in her garden and let the late afternoon sun warm her face. She needed to clear her head. Erase the humiliation she felt every time she thought of Tad. It was the weirdest relationship she’d ever had. Not that she thought of it as a relationship. But they knew each other pretty well now, and yet she still couldn’t work him out. He ran hot and cold.
She looked around her garden. She’d had it cleared. Not completely—she had no desire to have one of those manicured gardens. She wanted it to be wild, and overgrown, but deliberately so. She’d planted more flowers and placed a small cast-iron table and two chairs under the oak, and the lounger nearby. The garden hadn’t changed a great deal but the energy had been shaken up. Spring had brought with it an explosion of warmth and color and Rhi was spending more and more time outdoors. She’d never had a garden before. She’d grown herbs and had a natural affinity to nature, but being a New Yorker hadn’t allowed for much gardening. Her parent’s brownstone had a small backyard where her mother grew herbs. In Hamlet, her garden began at her back terrace and continued to the edge of the woods, getting lost in the forest that eventually spilled out onto the beach.
The beach. That’s where she needed to go to clear her head of Tad Daniels.
Rhi jumped up and headed for the path in the trees. She made her way into the now familiar woods, her pace picking up until she was running. She dodged tree branches and leaves. She soaked in each tree root, each rock and each deviation in the path as she passed. It was becoming as familiar to her as the lines in the palm of her hand. She ran past the half-hidden rock entrance to the secret grove. She ran up over a mound where the trees stopped and the sand began. She breathed deeply as she jogged down the other side of the sand dune and saw the sea before her, stretching into oblivion. She considered it part of her back garden; a garden that ended somewhere in France.