SOLO

by Bladon, Deborah

  "Why didn't I get it?"

  I turn to look at her face. The bruise to her ego may not be on full display but I see it. I saw it when she turned to look at me in the jewelry store two hours ago. "We agreed to a vote. Majority wins."

  She nods her head in gentle understanding. "Did you vote for me?"

  It tears me the fuck apart that she has to ask that. It's killing me inside that I can't tell her what I'm feeling for her. "I did, Libby. I did."

  ***

  I'm not a juggler. If I was in the circus I'd be one of the tight rope walkers. They risk life and limb to cruise across a tiny thread of hope. That's what's happening in my life right now. I have a thread of hope that opening night isn't going to be a fucking disaster.

  "I've arranged the car to pick up Mr. and Mrs. Morton from the airport." Lance takes another look at his legal pad. "You're sure they don't need a hotel reservation?"

  "They're staying at my place." I feel my stomach wrench with the words.

  "Do you want me to make a hotel reservation for you then?"

  Who knew Lance could be funny? Maybe having a male assistant isn't all that bad. "That's not necessary. I have other places I can stay at if it's too crowded. "

  "Alright." He taps his foot on the floor. "I was wondering about something, sir."

  "No, you can't have a raise." My eyes stay glued to the contract I'm trying to skim over before five o'clock. "I pay you too much already."

  He shuffles his feet nervously. "No, I don’t want a raise. That's not it."

  "That's good to know." I stop to look up. "What the hell has you so jumpy?"

  "I know you're bringing them here for opening night of the musical."

  "Thanks for the reminder."

  He looks across my desk at me. "I know it's not my business, sir, but it's been years since it happened."

  Christ. No. Just no.

  "Don't," I hold my hand up to silence him. "We're not discussing this. How the fuck do you know about any of it?"

  "Mrs. Morton, she…well, she…" he stumbles along, tripping over his words. "She explained everything when I called to confirm her airline reservation."

  Of course she did. She'll tell anyone who gives her an ear. She can't shut the hell up about it. It's been five fucking years and she'll never stop. I can't do this. I can't talk to Lance or anyone about this. "It's none of your fucking business."

  "If it helps, sir." He keeps talking. His god dammed lips keep moving and more and more random bullshit is falling from them. "If it helps, I think she needs to let go."

  I'm the only person in the world who thinks that. I've never expressed it. Now, my assistant is standing in front of me, saying what I've wanted to say to Margaret Morton for years. She does need to let go. We all need to let go. The past is in the past and unless I can pull a fucking rabbit out of a hat, my past is about to collide with my future.

  Chapter 31

  Libby

  "Have you ever gone on an audition and you just knew. I mean have you ever felt that a part was made specifically for you?" I try to slow my breathing down. I'm not sure the words I just threw at Claudia made any sense at all.

  "Oh my God, Libby." She grabs hold of my shoulders, shaking them furiously. "Are you talking about your audition for Falling Choices?"

  I nod my head, afraid to give my voice to the motion. If I say it out loud, I'm making it more real. I can't get my hopes up again. I can't believe that a part is mine only to have it slip away. I did that with the solo and although I've settled into feeling happy for Claudia about it, I don't want a repeat.

  "Tell me what happened." She holds tighter to the edge of my sweater. "I want to hear it all."

  I don't want to repeat it back. If I do that, I'll pick it apart and find fault in myself. I've always been that way. I'm a perfectionist when it comes to performing and I just want to ride the high I'm feeling right now. "I don't want to jinx it." I grab hold of her hands.

  "That's a good idea." She nods in agreement. "Can you imagine if you get it?"

  I can and I have. I auditioned for a lead role. That would mean I'd be the star of the show and it even though it's a touring production, it would give me more stage time than I have now with my part in Selfish Fate. I'd have to leave New York but the only thing holding me here is Alec and we're still moving along at the same pace we have been all along. I know it can't last forever. Men like him don't commit to anything beyond the foreseeable future. My career is my first love so I need to stay focused on that and the lead role in Falling Choices will open a lot of doors for me.

  "My parents will be here next Tuesday. Do you have to work at the store that night?"

  I hesitate. It's the night before we open. I was hoping to spend it with Alec. "I'm only working on my days off from the musical now."

  "So you'll come meet them for dinner?"

  I rub my forehead. If I see them for an early dinner I'll still have time to see Alec before bed. "Sure. I know how much it means to you."

  "It means everything, Lib." She hugs me tightly. "Family is everything to me."

  ***

  Family is nothing to me. Wait. That's not completely true. It's a royal pain in my ass. My father is proving that to me now.

  "That's all well and good, Libby but it's not a career you're going to be able to sustain in the long term."

  I pull my smartphone away from my ear. How is it possible that he can yell at me from half way across the country and it stings just as much as if he was standing directly in front of me? "It's a big deal. If I get it, it means I'll be the lead."

  "If you get it?" he hisses the words out, one by one. "If you get it? You haven't even gotten it yet."

  Thanks, dad. Way to burst my confidence bubble into ten million little pieces. "I have a good chance."

  "You don't know that," he presses. "It's not a sure thing. If you come back to Denver, I'll give you a job."

  I rub my temple, the first bite of a migraine pulling itself to the surface. The job he's offering may come with a tidy salary and a nice benefits package but it's an entry level position that I'm over qualified for. I worked for my father's company during summer breaks throughout high school and college. I know the inner workings of the hotel business. I can save him money, streamline the operation and create more jobs, but he won't listen. The only reason he won't is because I'm not his son. My brother won that crown and now sits in a plush office, pulling in a seven figure salary while doing absolutely nothing at all.

  "Did you hear me?" he barks into the phone.

  "It's impossible not to hear you, dad." I sigh before continuing, "I'm not coming back there. I have to see this through. You know this is my dream."

  "Dreams don't pay bills, Libby."

  "Thanks for the tip." I stare at my phone wondering why I answered in the first place. "I need to go. I love you." I do. They're not empty words. My dad is my dad. I can't deny that.

  "I love you too and the job is yours whenever you want it."

  I don't want it. I want my life here. I want all of my dreams, including the ones I have about Alec Hughes, to come true.

  Chapter 32

  Alec

  "Alec." My name is nothing more than a whisper when it leaves her mouth and presses into mine. She's on top of me, her hair falling into my face, her tits resting against my chest. I'm buried completely inside of her and I'm holding onto her for dear life.

  I circle my hips beneath her, pushing my cock into her beautiful body. "Libby," I say her name to replace the million things I want and need to say to her. They're all the things I should have said weeks ago but I haven't. I won't. I can't.

  She eases herself up, her hair forging a path across my face and chest. I breathe in the scent. I hold it along with my breath.

  "I think about you all the time, Alec."

  Fuck. Please, God. Not now. Please.

  The words rip through me. Her face is so beautiful. She's leaning back, her hands resting on my thighs, her beautiful body on fu
ll display. This isn't fair. It's not fucking fair. "I think about you too."

  They're five simple words that can't convey their true meaning. When I wake up, Libby's face is there, first in my mind. As I wander through my day, she's there in my thoughts. I look at the pictures on my phone dozens of times a day. I sit outside the rehearsal hall knowing she's inside. I want to go upstairs and watch her rehearse. I want to encourage her, applaud her, and celebrate who she is. I want to steal her away from that shitty apartment she lives in and move in here with her. I want this to be my life.

  "I love having sex with you."

  The words are strong and filled with need. "I love it too," I whisper into the calm space between us. "Fucking you is incredible."

  She shifts her hips slightly so there's pressure on my balls. I'm close. I can feel it. I need to slow the need. I can't come yet. I still my body.

  "I haven't had that many lovers," she confesses as her hand glides across her breasts. "None of them were like you."

  I knew that. It's not an assumption based on ego. I could tell by the way her body responded to mine. I could tell by the way she tightens when I slide myself all the way in. She's not used to the width or the length. It's almost too much. The faint flash of pain that grazes across her eyes told me everything the first time.

  "I've had many lovers," I stall my breathing to moan when she rocks her hips slightly. "None of them were like you."

  A smile covers her mouth and flows into her eyes. "I'm different?"

  She has no idea. "You're not like anyone, Libby."

  "I like that." She arches her body, pulling her hips back and then slamming them forward again.

  I can't take it anymore. I grab her face with my hands, tugging it to me. "Libby, I…" I lose my voice in her kiss. Her lips are soft and plush. She pulls my bottom lip between her teeth as she fucks me hard, her body grinding into mine.

  I need the control. I have to have it. I wrap one arm around her waist and in one quick movement she's on her back. I hover above her, staring down at her. "Fuck, you're so beautiful."

  Her lips part. "Hard, Alec. Fuck me hard."

  I reach for her hands, pinning them to the bed above her head. I need her like this. I need to see this vulnerability one last time. I fuck her tenderly. I fuck her with deep thrusts. I fuck her until she screams out my name and then I follow her into my own intense climax.

  ***

  "Are you seeing anyone else?" Her voice is barely there as she pulls on her heel.

  "What?" I spin around to look at her. "What did you just ask me?" I know what I heard. I fucking know what she asked me. Christ. I'm such a fucked up bastard. This is when I tell her. This is when it all comes out into the open and she runs away.

  "You never want me to stay." She pats the edge of the bed. The room is silent except for the rhythmic sound. It's dim and smells like sex and lust. It's the place I never want to leave.

  I look down. The words aren't there and it's not surprising. I haven't thought it through. I've always fucked them and sent them on their way. I never answer questions like this. I can't answer them now.

  "Are you used to being alone?" It's an out. She's thrown me a fucking life preserver because that's who she is. "Is that why I can't stay?"

  I move towards her, dipping my head to run my lips over her forehead. "I've been alone for a long time. I'm not close to many people."

  Her face softens when I sit beside her. She pulls my hand onto her leg. "Where does your family live?"

  "My family?" I look down at her.

  "Your parents? Your siblings?"

  I trace my hand along her jaw tilting it so her eyes meet mine. "My parents live in Greece."

  "Did you ever live there?" Her brows pop with the question.

  I smile and lean against her. This is how it should be. It should be quiet conversations about life and family. "I've always lived in New York. This is my home."

  Her hand darts to my arm, twisting it slightly. Her eyes scan my watch. "I should go home. Tomorrow is opening night. I need to be at rehearsal early."

  I pull her hand to my mouth, soaking in the scent of her skin. It all changes tomorrow. This is my last chance to tell her. Once we're in the theatre, and the curtain rises, Libby Duncan will be lost to me forever.

  "Alec?" Her head dips down trying to catch my gaze with her own. "What's wrong?"

  I look up, the lump in my throat making it impossible to swallow. "You mean so much to me, Libby."

  She reaches up to cradle my cheek within her soft palm. "You mean a lot to me too."

  I lean forward, pull her head to mine and kiss Libby Duncan for the very last time.

  Chapter 33

  Libby

  It's opening night. This is the point where my dreams are finally a reality. I'm not the lead, I didn't get the solo, but I get to dance and sing on the biggest stage of my career. Previews were fun and a lot of hard work, but they don't compare to what's about to happen.

  I'm dressed in my costume. The tiny white skirt floats around my thighs. The white blouse is buttoned just enough to allow my breasts to spill out. I look like a wicked angel, which is actually the point. The entire chorus line is gathered around me. I should be celebrating with them. I should be soaking in the glory of achieving something many people don't, but I can only think of one thing.

  Alec Hughes.

  He's a liar.

  When I asked about others, he panicked. He's a master at hiding it, but I saw the fear there, between his brows. I saw the way his jaw tightened. I saw the hesitation. He didn't answer my question.

  When I asked about his family, he was confused. I had to clarity the point.

  When I went back to his place, after he'd dropped me at home, it all made sense. I left my phone there lost within the sheets. He'd thrown it there when he pushed me down to eat me. It stayed there when he pulled me on top of him and slid his body into mine and we'd forgotten it there when he rushed me out to the car to take me home.

  Jade wasn't home so I couldn't call him to ask about my phone. I'd run downstairs, hopped in a cab and raced back to his condo on Central Park West.

  "Mr. Hughes isn't here. He's never here overnight." The doorman had said. "He doesn't live here."

  He's doesn't live there.

  Alec Hughes is a fucking liar.

  "Libby," Claudia's voice breaks into my darkness. "Look what I have."

  I stop and stare. It's there in her hand. It's the proof of my need to come to this city. It's validation for all my hard work. It's the playbill. "Can I see it?"

  "I got this one for you." She places it in my hand with all the care one would take when handing over a newborn child to its mother.

  I greedily open it, thumbing through the pages until I find my face. I can't see it. My eyes fill with tears. "Oh my God," I whisper into the backstage noise. "Oh, Claudia."

  "I know, right?" She pulls her arm around my shoulder. "We made it, Lib."

  I run my hand over my face, reading the details of my biography. "This is real."

  "It's totally real." Her lips graze my cheek. "You should keep it as a reminder of your first night on Broadway."

  I nod as I leaf through the pages, stopping to read about my cast mates. You'd think that we'd all be good friends after working so tirelessly for so many months but there is so much competition and animosity that it clouds the judgment of even the kindest souls.

  "What is this?" I hold out the playbill for Claudia. "Who is this woman?"

  She pulls the edge closer to her, taking the time to read through the page. "I have no idea. It says the show is dedicated to her. Isn't that Alec Hughes standing next to her in that picture?"

  It is Alec. It's his face. It's from years ago, but it's definitely him.

  "Quiet." The stage manager waves a finger at everyone backstage. "They're doing a dedication."

  Claudia shrugs her shoulders as she wraps her arm around my waist.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce
, Margaret and David Morton," Randall Myers, the producer I rarely see, hands a microphone to a woman whose face I can't make out. She standing next to a man who shares the same hue of gray hair that she does.

  "We are delighted to be here." The woman's voice is soft and anxious. "We are actually standing in for our daughter, Natasha, who couldn't make it tonight. She's a bit under the weather."

  The entire theatre is silent as she continues, "I'm…well… me and my husband are so grateful that our future son-in-law saw fit to invest in this brilliant production. Alec Hughes knows how much Natasha loves the theatre and this is his gift to her."

  ***

  "You two need to get ready. The show starts in five." One of the stagehands peeks into the ladies' washroom, his eyes darting from where Claudia and I are standing to the empty stalls.

  "We'll be right there," she barks the words at him. "I can't believe you fucked Alec Hughes."

  I told her. I had to. After hearing that woman's speech I knew I couldn't go onstage without releasing some of the frustration that is brewing within me. "I don't get it, Claudia. Who the hell turns the other cheek when their fiancé is out fucking half of Manhattan?"

  It's an exaggeration. I won't qualify it as slight, because I have nothing to judge by. I know that Alec fucked me. I know he's fucked women in the other plays he's invested in and I imagine he's fucked hundreds of other women. It's not a secret. His reputation precedes him, in the most negative of ways. How can any woman sit back and allow that to happen?

  "It's not about her." Claudia pulls my hair into place behind my back. "This is so not about her, Libby."

  "What do you mean?" I spin around sharply. "It's all about her. If I knew about her, I wouldn't have done it."

  "No." Her hands firmly grip onto my shoulders. "This is about you. This is about him. This is not about her."

  She's right. Alec is responsible for his own actions. He's the one who sought me out. I'm the one who willingly crawled into his bed. We made love together. I can't blame anyone for my choices but myself.