Frank nodded. He could do that. Rehearsals didn’t start until tomorrow. He could go for a run and then take a nap.
“Thanks.” He ducked his head, so grateful to her he couldn’t look her in the eye.
Annie kissed his cheek and walked back out of the office.
Chapter Fourteen
Tom whistled as he walked to the bookstore. This week’s rehearsal had gone well, with the blocking begun and Gabriella already half off book. Frank’s acting was coming along too. Once Tom had convinced Gabriella to help. Tom had appealed to her ego, telling her he’d seen something in Frank just like he’d seen in Gabriella all those years ago when they’d starred opposite in the high school version of Arsenic and Old Lace. A few words of flattery about her talent versus the women he’d acted with in New York, and she was fully on board with helping Frank learn stagecraft.
Tom’s jaunty whistle died. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he trod over the cracks in the sidewalk. She didn’t need to know the women he’d interacted with were all in the ensemble or in walk-on roles like him. He sighed. His dreams of fame and fortune in New York seemed so far away here in the sleepy little town of Waycroft Falls. They weren’t even as close as they’d been when he’d left town at nineteen, full of confidence and ambition.
The beginning chords of his ringtone tango, the one he’d set last week on a whim after practicing with Frank, strummed from the phone in his pocket.
Tom glanced at the caller ID and recognized his friend Micah. He thumbed the Accept Call button. “Hey, man, how’s it going?”
“That depends. Are you still languishing in the armpit of the South?”
Tom chuckled. His friend Micah had grown up in New York. Tom had horrified him when he’d decided to go home for the summer.
“Still here. But it’s nice.” Tom looked at the manicured lawns and the flowerbeds overflowing with a rainbow of summer blooms. He lingered on the sidewalk, shaded by a tall oak tree. “The air is breathable and not four parts car exhaust.”
From Micah’s end, Tom could hear the honk of a car and guessed his friend was walking down a sidewalk himself. The industrial sounds of NYC burst down the line, and for a moment, it repelled Tom. He compared the quiet beauty of his hometown, the slow-moving stillness broken only by a single passing car, the sprinklers shushing over the lawns to the raucous tumult he could hear on Micah’s side. He should feel homesick for the hustle and bustle of the city. But he didn’t.
The sweetness of a birdsong lulled him from the top of a nearby tree, and in the distance, he could hear a dog bark playfully.
“Ugh. How do you stand it?” Micah laughed.
“Family obligations, man.” Tom grinned, but it twisted on his mouth. “Hey, I forgot. You’re out of rehearsals on the Titanic revival. How has the box office been?”
“Already closed.” Micah’s disappointed sigh followed his words.
“Whoa. But the critics predicted that revivals are a sure thing this season.” Tom hated to hear this news from his friend. Getting work in a revival usually meant a steady paycheck. The producers banked on nostalgia.
“A lead had an injury, and instead of promoting the understudy, the producers did stunt casting. The Hollywood guy didn’t learn his lines and was so awful we couldn’t even fill the free seats.”
“Oh my God. Who was it? No, don’t tell me. I’ll look it up.” Tom wiped the sweat from his brow. He’d forgotten that the heat crept up on you down South. He started walking again as he talked.
“Anyway, I’m setting my sights on the Cats tour.” The noise behind Micah grew muffled, like he stepped into a building.
“Did they close too?” Tom winced. Short season all around. The Cats original eighteen-year run was legendary. Closing after six months must have hurt.
“Closing. The trades say the box office is decent but nothing to wow about. And they didn’t even get a nod at the Tonys. They’re putting together a whole new cast for the touring company.”
Tom could hear his friend’s steps echoing. Was he walking up to his apartment? And then Micah confirmed it by belting out, “Honey, I’m home!” in his best Ricky Ricardo impression.
Tom heard Micah’s boyfriend, Darius, say something, and then Micah hushed him.
“Can’t you see I’m on the phone? Anyway—” Micah groaned. “I wanted to tell you to get your tush back up here. The director is Josh Elberg. You know, the guy you made such a good impression on?” He drew the last word out like a tease.
Tom remembered Elberg. He’d worked with the director on a short-lived musical off-Broadway. Elberg had given good notes and rewarded cast members for reliability and talent. Josh had even given Tom his card at the end of the run and asked Tom to audition for him again.
“What’s the time frame?” Already he was running through the logistics of getting back to New York, inserting himself in the game of matinee and show.
“You’ve got a month and a half before you miss out.”
Tom heard springs squeak. Micah must have sat down on the ancient sofa he and Darius kept in the living room. Tom had spent many a sleepless night trying to find a comfortable spot to bed down on that sofa. If he begged, they might let him couch surf a few more nights there. Just until auditions.
“I appreciate you telling me about this, Micah.” Going on tour meant always having someplace to sleep and minimal expenses. He could save up money for when he returned to New York. And if they tried Cats on Broadway again, he had an in with the production. If he got a part.
“Just call me Glinda the Good Witch. Hey—” On the other end of the line, Tom heard a scuffle.
“Micah?”
“Nope. Darius.” Micah’s boyfriend announced himself. “Just had to wrest the phone from the friend hog and say hi.”
“Hi, Darius.” Tom chuckled. “How are you doing?”
“Fine. Ow!”
Tom heard more roughhousing on the other end.
“Anyway, if you need a place to stay for a few days when you return, we’ve still got the old couch,” Micah said. “Stay back, you.”
Tom laughed, realizing that last epithet was for Darius.
“Thanks. That means a lot, guys.”
“There. Speakerphone.” Micah’s triumphant voice sounded a little fainter.
“Good.” Darius’s voice joined in.
“I miss you guys.” Tom laughed.
“We miss you too,” they chorused.
“New York misses you.” Darius’s deep guffaw cut off Micah’s cajoling voice. “Well, it does.” His indignant insistence reminded Tom of a petulant child.
“I’m sure.” Darius chuckled. “I’ve got to finish dinner. Talk soon, Tom.”
“Bye, Darius.” The bookstore stood less than a block now. “Thanks for calling, Micah.”
“Kisses!” His friend made smoochy noises, and then the line went dead. Tom shoved the phone back in his pocket, the smile lingering on his face.
As he approached the door of the bookshop, his expression drooped a little. Inside he could see Annie chatting with a young mother at the checkout.
New York didn’t miss him. It chewed up and spit people like him out for breakfast. But did he have another choice? If he could get in the touring company, he’d have a moment to breathe and figure out his future. If he stayed in Waycroft Falls, he’d just be another drain on Annie and John. And wasn’t that the crux of the matter? He needed to be here to help her introduce the performance venue. But once it launched, she’d be better off with him gone.
Please let this play be a success. For Annie’s sake.
Tom hauled open the door of the shop and plastered on his best audition smile. Showtime.
At a couple of weeks in, most of the paint fumes had died away. The stage had a few items on it tonight, an opulent green velvet sofa in the back, a few prop chairs and a table in front. Frank knew the dinner scene was on the schedule, and he’d been mouthing his lines all morning in between stocking books and manning the checkout.
Jessica had even offered to read Gabriella’s part while he practiced at lunch. He’d clocked out early so he could stomp around upstairs, practicing lines and blocking before Gabriella and Tom arrived.
“Eat what thou wilt, and gain your fill, madame.” Frank began the line. “For ‘tis food a plenty and more beside that I have for you to sup upon. I won’t—”
“I will,” Gabriella corrected him as she walked up the stairs. The long skirt she insisted on wearing to rehearsals brushed against the stage. She’d explained to him and Tom that she wanted to get the swing of skirts, and Hattie wouldn’t have her costume ready for another week.
“The line is ‘I will satiate your every hunger.’” She laid a hand on his arm. “Frank, you wrote these lines. And they’re brilliant, but not the way you’re saying them. You’re fighting it too much.” Her soft, rueful voice matched the disappointment on her face.
Frank sighed and pulled the script from his back pocket. “I know. I’m trying to memorize them, but this is hard. My mind blanks as soon as we walk onstage.”
Gabriella’s lips twitched down, which he recognized now was her concentration face. And then she nodded, looping her arm around his elbow to lead him to the chairs.
“We’ll try something new. Have you ever meditated?”
Frank dropped into a chair. “No. How will that help?”
Gabriella scooted the other chair around to face him and then perched on it so that their knees were a few inches apart. She leaned into his space.
“It’ll relax you so that the words can flow. I know they’re in that noggin of yours. We have to get them to come out.” She sat back and placed her hands in her lap.
“Okay, let’s begin by closing our eyes.” Her lashes rested delicately on her cheeks.
Frank shook his head even though she couldn’t see it. How could this help?
“Close your eyes.” Gabriella used her mom voice, the sternness at odds with her polished facade. And her still-shut eyes. How did she know?
Frank rested his hands on his knees and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. His ears pricked up, catching the sounds of Annie on the floor below, shuffling paperwork. He recognized the birds chirping outside the window and the soft whoosh of a car passing on the road below. He rubbed his fingers against the denim of his jeans, the fabric made soft by many washings. His toes extended in his shoes, bumping up against the inside of the canvas.
Gabriella must have peeped to make sure he had his eyes shut, because her voice took on a soothing tone.
“Okay, we’ll breathe in to the count of one.”
Frank inhaled as instructed. His chest rose, the material of his shirt shifting against the hair on his chest.
“Now breathe out to the count of one.” Gabriella’s soft voice encouraged him. He exhaled.
“Breathe in to the count of one-two.” They both breathed in and held it, and then Gabriella said, “And breathe out to the count of one-two.” The air hissed out of Frank’s lungs. Inside him his inner wolf lay down, head on its paws.
“In to the count of one-two-three.”
Frank could feel his heart rate slowing, his body adjusting itself into relaxation.
“Out to the count of one-two-three.”
Gabriella continued counting out and in until at last it was “In to the count of one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight.” Frank held his breath, feeling his heartbeat calm and rhythmic in his chest. “Out to the count of one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight.” He exhaled as she said the numbers, letting the tension drain from him with the extended breath. His inner wolf was silent, asleep.
“You can open your eyes now.”
When Frank lifted his lids, the first thing he saw was the arch look on Gabriella’s face.
“So how do you feel?” She drew out the last word into a lilt.
“Good.” Frank nodded and realized that he spoke the truth. His inner wolf dwelled far away in the back of his mind. Far from the surface of his thoughts, where it usually resided, begging and whining to be freed. He relished the greater measure of control, the freedom that zipped through him like electricity. If he could do this all the time, he wouldn’t be at the mercy of his wolf. He wouldn’t have to worry about hurting Annie, or Tom, or anyone.
“Excellent. Then let’s go over that scene again. I want you to sweep me off my feet with your adoration.”
Frank grinned. “Okay. I can do that.”
Gabriella flounced out of her chair. She gave a coquettish pout. “You can. With my help.”
“Hey, you guys got here early.”
Frank and Gabriella both turned as Tom bounded up the steps onto the top floor.
“Do you want to run through the transformation scene? I’ve been thinking about this, and I have an idea I’d like to try.”
Frank drank in the sight of Tom, the golden highlights of his hair, illuminated by the setting sun outside the window. The urgency of his wolf no longer scrabbled at his insides ready to pounce. Instead of the rutting lust of his wolf, Frank experienced the slow burn of arousal as he took in Tom’s easy physicality, the way he moved in his well-fitting clothes, and his confident mannerisms.
Frank wanted to crow. He could do this. He could master his wolf, master himself. He wet his lips, seeing the motion catch Tom’s eye.
“Sure. Transformation scene it is.”
The evening’s rehearsal had seemed so promising. Tom had arrived to find Frank and Gabriella already onstage.
He’d been thinking over Micah’s call, and the timing seemed to be just right. He’d have plenty of time to get the production going and then after opening night, go back to New York to audition for the touring company. A director’s job ended after opening night anyway. Tom had been grooming John, his impromptu stage manager, in stage craft. John could handle the follow-up show, an additional fund-raiser for the bookstore.
They’d worked through the transformation scene, the denouement. Frank only tripped a little over the words. But as the night wore on Gabriella…
Gabriella stomped her foot. The gesture rippled up her long, flowing skirt.
“We need to talk about this. The climax will make or break this play. If it’s a mask, we need it now so I have something to work against.”
Frank looked from Gabriella to Tom. The three of them were the only ones in the space, no one else there today for rehearsal.
“Trust me, Gabriella. Frank’s makeup will be impeccable.” Tom held out his hands in a placating gesture.
“Is it makeup then, not a mask? You’re sure you don’t need a double? Because I can pull in one of my students—” Gabriella tilted her head to the side and then switched her gaze to Frank.
Tom pulled out his confident audition smile. “Calm down. It’ll be great. You’ll see.” He wanted to tell her, but he was trying to give Frank enough time to adjust to the idea. Frank had agreed to show everyone before the full rehearsal, which was only a week away.
“I think we should tell her.” Frank spoke up, calm and unruffled.
Tom looked at him, surprised. “Are you sure? We don’t have to do this now.”
“Do what? What are you keeping from me? I’m the star of this play. I damn well need to know everything.” Gabriella crossed her arms in front of her, staring back and forth between them like they were two dogs with a bone and she wanted it.
“Gabriella, wait.” Tom turned back to Frank, who’d gone white, the fearful expression on his face stark in the set of his jaw and the widening of his eyes. Tom didn’t want Frank doing anything he wasn’t ready for, but this would be a good place to tell her.
“I’ve got Galen’s,” Frank said in a hushed tone.
Gabriella’s brow furrowed. Her mouth made a moue, and then her gaze grew suspicious. “What’s gaylents?”
Tom tensed, ready to jump in if needed, but he waited for Frank. Frank nodded, his mouth flattening.
“Galen’s syndrome is a genetic curse. And I mean that literally.” Frank stared at his feet,
not looking at Gabriella as he explained.
Tom scrutinized Gabriella, expecting her to roll her eyes or check her nails. But she remained silent, her pert nose wrinkled and her mouth open like she wanted to say something. When Frank glanced up, she snapped it shut. Frank cleared his throat.
“Someone cursed an ancestor of mine with lycanthropy, and although that kind of curse can be controlled, even managed, it can’t be scrubbed. It resides in my family like a mutation, passed down like a recessive gene. My father and my mother both had the milder, nonmanifesting version of the curse, but when they had me, I got it from both sides. I’m a manifestor.” After finishing his explanation, Frank collapsed in on himself a little, drawing his hands around his arms like he was self-soothing himself in a hug.
“Lycanthropy. Isn’t that like a werewolf?” Gabriella drew the last word out, the thread of disbelief thick in the syllables.
“Yeah. Only I don’t need the full moon to change.” Frank rubbed at his arms.
Gabriella whirled away from them then, stalking over to her bag and slinging it onto her shoulder.
Tom raced to her side. “Gabriella, don’t—”
She snapped her finger in his face. “If you think I’ll stand here and be the butt of some joke cooked up by you two… I’ve had sophomores with more class.”
Tom stepped in front of her. “It’s true.”
Gabriella reared back, her face thunderous. “I don’t know why you’re insisting on…”
Out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw Frank unbutton his shirt. Oh crap. Things were about to get real for Gabriella. Tom hoped she took it better than he had.
Tom spun Gabriella around by her shoulders to face Frank. She huffed and put her hands on her hips, an impatient look on her face. And then Frank took a deep breath and shifted to something more than human.
Tom gaped along with Gabriella as Frank’s muscled torso rippled with hair, and then his bones changed, some lengthening like his ankles and his face, others shortening like his feet. In seconds, where Frank had stood, a wolf watched them.
Wolf Around the Corner Page 12