Tom turned his bemused gaze on Gabriella. ”This sounds like it’s right up your alley, Gabriella.”
His leading lady smoothed a hand down the front of her pencil skirt.
“Normally, yes. But I now have a full-time job as a teacher, and I’m superb at it. You’re my second choice for the job.” Her lips twitched with amusement. Tom let his casting call smile out.
“I can send over the details later today if you’re interested.” Jerry tapped out a message on his phone.
Tom hesitated. Give up his New York dream? He’d never be center stage in front of a sold-out Times Square audience during a standing ovation. He’d never be the flavor of the month to disaffected crowds of theatergoers who’d rather see musicals than Shakespeare. Tom would never be an anonymous member of the chorus while everyone else took a bow. But he might influence art and beauty in his hometown. He could bring Shakespeare…and musicals to Waycroft Falls. He could impact artists and make opportunities to nurture the arts right here. Tom would never be anonymous in Waycroft Falls.
“I’d like to think about it for a day, Mayor Englebottom. If that’s okay.” Tom held out his hand to the mayor.
“Certainly. But I hope you’ll say yes.” Jerry shook his hand and tucked his arm back around his wife’s waist. “Gabriella thinks highly of you.” He smiled at her but then turned his sharp eyes back to Tom. “We could use a little more heart in this community and a little less progress.”
Chapter Nineteen
Tom faced his players backstage and gave them his best audition-worthy smile, hoping it encouraged them.
“Okay, everyone. This is the last rehearsal before opening night. Wednesday was a good indicator of how everything will proceed. We’ve got the lighting and sound tweaked, and everyone is in costume, right?”
The nervous nods did little to reassure him.
“Just remember what we went over when you were developing your characters. Think about their intentions, their wants, what is most important to them. Remember your blocking and approach other actors in circles, not lines. Lines are boring.” That brought a faint chuckle from a few of the players. “Let’s do this.”
There was a light buzz of conversation out front. A smattering of preshow attendees sat in the folding chairs. Annie made her practiced introduction and then descended the stage to sit with her friend, Hattie, who’d sewn the costumes. Campbell’s wife sat in the front row, along with their grown daughter. Several parents of players and crew also filled the seats.
“Something’s wrong.” Emma rubbed at her eye. “Lucille?” She called for Annie’s friend who was still spraying down Campbell’s hair.
Emma scratched. “I think I might be allergic to this makeup.”
“It’s the same stuff we used during the tech rehearsal.” Lucille bustled over and took a quick look at Emma’s red eyes. “Whoops. We better get that off you quick. The skin around your eyes is swelling.”
Great. Tom gave the other players a hold sign with his hand. He met Frank’s worried gaze. One minute, he mouthed.
After wiping off all the makeup, Lucille sent Emma to the bathroom to wash with soap. When Emma returned, she was red-faced but ready to continue.
Campbell, Emma, and Danny strode onstage in front of a wood cottage exterior.
“Is this it? Why must we live here?” Danny spoke to Campbell, his arms outstretched.
“‘Tis all we can afford, my son,” Campbell said in a sorrowful tone.
Gabriella walked in behind them and took center stage. “Why, it’s beautiful here. So green with a little stream down the way.”
“Ugh.” Emma’s look of disgust emphasized her red, swollen eyes and blotchy face. “I’ve never seen such a filthy—” She stumbled against the cottage facade, which fell with a crash. Emma’s shoulders rose near her ears. “Sorry!”
John jumped up from his chair in the wings. “On it.”
The actors retreated backstage. Tom held up his hands. “It’s all right. We’ll start again.”
Gabriella and Lucille clustered around Emma. “I think we should get an ice pack for your eyes.” Gabriella frowned.
“Anything,” Emma agreed. “My skin is hot.”
Lucille touched the puffy area above Emma’s eyebrow. “And we’ll use your personal makeup tomorrow, so we know you can tolerate it.”
“I’ll grab the ice for you.” Tom checked on John, who was hammering a set piece back in place. He trotted down the stairs to the bookshop break room to throw some ice cubes in a plastic bag for Emma. But when he returned with it at the bottom of the stairs, the lights went out.
Annie met him halfway down. “Hey, Tommy. I’m gonna go see if we blew a fuse.” She shouldered past him. Tom continued to the upstairs where the crew shone flashlights to check the sound and lighting board.
“I’m sorry, folks.” Tom addressed the few dress rehearsal audience members. “There are rough patches before a play opens. We appreciate your patience.” He hopped up onstage and handed the makeshift icepack to Gabriella.
The lights returned. John finished hammering and got back to his feet, testing the sturdiness of the set piece.
“Will it hold?” Tom reached out and wiggled the wooden facade.
“Should. We only have two performances to get through. I’ll remind everyone to be careful.” John thumped his hammer in his palm. “I can also have a friend check out the electrical tomorrow to make sure we’re not overloading the circuits.”
“Could be a short.” Annie walked up to them. “I reset it.”
“Let me check on Emma. If everything else is working, we can resume rehearsal.” Tom ducked backstage.
IF FRANK DIDN’T know better, he’d think the dress rehearsal was cursed. After Emma’s reaction, a set piece falling, and the lights going out, he wondered if someone would trip off the stage next. They didn’t. But it was still ten thirty at night when he and Gabriella finished the transformation scene. At least that part had gone smoothly and he was in his human form again.
Frank rose from his seated position in the dark while the audience applauded. He offered a hand to Gabriella, and she stood. They both heard the telltale rip over the clapping of their tiny rehearsal audience. He froze, and Gabriella reached down to pull her dress from under her foot. They missed their cue to get off the stage before the house lights went up. Frank waved to the audience and helped Gabriella exit right.
“I can’t believe I tore it. My beautiful dress.” Gabriella fingered the ragged edges where the skirt had pulled away from the bodice.
The music for the curtain call swelled, and Reina, Aimee, and Stan rushed out to make their bows.
“Hattie can fix it,” Emma said as she passed Gabriella. She took Danny’s hand, and they also left for the stage.
From the other side, Campbell looked sympathetic but walked out to take his bow amid the smattering of applause.
“You’re up.” Frank nudged Gabriella.
Straightening her shoulders, she held the skirt in place while gliding onto the stage.
And then it was Frank’s turn. He smoothed down the lapels of his ornate jacket, a little looser on his human form, and walked out onto the center stage. The first thing he saw was Tom clapping.
“Way to go, Frank!” Annie yelled. “Whoop! Whoop!”
Bow, Tom mouthed, and Frank bent in a bow. The other players crowded back to him, and they all joined hands and made a final bow.
“That’s great. Let’s pack it up.” Tom twirled his finger. “Everyone go home and get a good night’s rest.” The long night was evident in the droop of his eyelids. “Remember, bad dress rehearsal means good opening night.”
“Ours will be stunning.” Campbell shuffled offstage.
“I need everyone’s costumes so Hattie can make sure they’re clean for day after tomorrow,” John reminded them. Gabriella charged the audience to confer with Hattie over the torn skirt. The rest of the cast groaned but retreated to the screened areas backstage to change.
Frank lingered onstage. “What did you think, John?”
Annie’s husband looked placid as he pulled out his hammer to work on the set piece again. “Could have been worse. No broken legs.”
As the last of the cast trickled out the door, Frank locked up behind them. Beside him, Tom rubbed a hand down his face and looked at his watch.
“Only eleven thirty.” The exhaustion in Tom’s voice made Frank snicker.
“Could be midnight.” A yawn interrupted Frank’s attempt at levity.
“Could be.” Tom’s jaw cracked over his yawn. “At least dress rehearsal is over.” He regarded Frank with a weary sigh. “Can I stay over? Just to sleep. I promise.”
Frank chuckled but walked toward Mrs. Anderson’s. “Yes, you can.”
“Good.” Tom fell into step beside him. This late, the insects were the only things stirring in the grass next to the sidewalk. A streetlamp buzzed overhead. Their steps echoed in the stillness. Their fingers brushed as they walked, and Frank had the insane urge to grab Tom’s hand. But he didn’t. Waycroft Falls wasn’t the most conservative town in the South, but it wasn’t the most progressive either. The live-and-let-live mentality only applied when you kept your living hidden. Even at midnight.
They made their way up Mrs. Anderson’s porch steps and into the apartment doors. Frank avoided the squeaky stair halfway up, but Tom hit it. It didn’t rouse Mrs. Anderson, so Frank opened his door and let them in.
Tom hadn’t been over since the night Frank had told Gabriella about having Galen’s. The memories of that encounter still made Frank sweat with want, made his cock grow heavy and press against the seam of his pants. Tom said he only wanted to sleep, but…
Frank didn’t bother turning on a light. The moon was bright outside, and the streetlight lit the interior of his living room enough for them to dodge the furniture.
Tom followed him into the bedroom, where Frank turned on the low-watt bedside lamp. Tom’s face was stark in the light; a hungry look illuminated his sober features. Frank’s inner wolf watched, alert.
Frank left to go brush his teeth and get ready for bed.
“I have an extra toothbrush.” Frank’s voice sounded wrong, harsh in the hushed mood that had settled between them. Tom appeared at the door of the bathroom, his blue eyes catching Frank’s in the mirror.
Frank held up the unwrapped toothbrush.
“Thanks.” It was almost a whisper as Tom stepped to Frank’s side at the sink. Frank finished up and rinsed his mouth, leaving Tom in the bathroom alone.
In the bedroom, Frank’s tired mind tried to deal with the dilemma of slipping under the covers naked as normal or pulling on a pair of sweats in deference to Tom’s request for sleep only. He’d already stripped and was holding up the sweatpants when Tom switched off the bathroom light.
Tom stood in the doorway watching him. “Don’t.”
Frank stared back for a moment and then tossed the pants aside and got into bed without them.
Tom pulled his shirt over his head. He toed off his shoes and let his pants and underwear puddle at his feet, climbing into the bed nude beside Frank. Frank switched off the lamp.
The dazzle from the light faded, and Frank saw Tom on his side, observing him.
“I know I said sleep.”
“You gave us a day off. It’s not as if we’re opening tomorrow. I’m not even working at the bookshop.” Frank’s whispered words fell from his tongue like pleas for skin and touch.
Tom reached out and ran a finger from Frank’s arm to his elbow. A prickle of awareness tingled down his flesh. Then Tom hooked a hand around Frank’s neck and pulled him into a slow kiss. Frank’s inner wolf howled, not the disconsolate howl of loneliness but one of finding its place, surrounded by its pack, a howl for the sheer joy of the sound.
It wasn’t the frantic clash of their last encounter but lips and tongues sliding languid against one another. This tentative caress held promises and futures. Frank pulled back. He was deluding himself again. Tom would go back to New York soon. Or maybe somewhere else. Tom had told him about the audition for the touring company. Maybe the show would make the trip to Birmingham or Atlanta, and Frank could see Tom onstage where he belonged instead of in the wings.
The thought of Tom leaving made Frank twine his arm around Tom’s back, pulling their bodies together, their hips rubbing against each other as he kissed Tom again. Tom answered Frank’s heat with a full-throated groan. Frank clutched at Tom, ran his hands across the planes of Tom’s back and down to cup his ass. Their kisses became slow, deep. Inside his mind, Frank’s inner wolf became quiescent, content, like a wolf settling down with a mate in their den. The silent acceptance made Frank redouble the caress, not wanting this connection to go quietly. He wanted flash and bang, scratches and claws, so Tom would remember their lovemaking. So Tom would remember him.
But Tom took Frank’s mouth with a patient longing, a sweetness that Frank knew must be goodbye. They were only a day from opening night on Friday, and then they had one more show on Saturday. The director’s job ended on opening night. Tom would leave and take his fairy tales with him back to the big city.
Tom used gentle fingers to push Frank down on his stomach. Tom straddled Frank’s hips and put his hands to work on the hard planes of Frank’s tense shoulders, coaxing him to relax. Frank noted the soft skin of Tom’s genitals as they rubbed an insistent rhythm in time to his grasping massage. And then Tom parted Frank’s legs and lay between them. Tom’s touches became softer, more caresses than therapeutic. He left small, soft kisses on Frank’s lower back.
Little nibbling bites, softer than a kiss, trailed along Frank’s inside thighs and across his buttocks, leaving him squirming and hard. Tom took Frank’s cheeks in hand and parted them before licking a tickling swipe up the crack of his ass.
“Ah.” The movement surprised the exhalation from Frank. Tom continued to lay feathery kisses against Frank’s hole, punctuated by little licks that sent goose bumps skittering down Frank’s arms and legs. Tom used his hands to pull himself closer. He circled his tongue on Frank in a more familiar, possessive caress before stroking against Frank’s hole in broader, maddening licks. Tom bracketed Frank’s trembling thighs, to lick Frank again and again. Frank squirmed, wanting to thrust into the sheets, wanting to move deeper into Tom’s touch. And then Tom slipped his tongue just the slightest bit into Frank’s hole. Frank gulped in air. The tickling touches gained purpose, Tom dipping his tongue deeper and opening Frank, coaxing his body to surrender. The heated muscle licked at the center of him, long, slow slithers that made Frank clench his hands and beg for more.
“Please, please, please.” The words shuddered out of him, almost a whine.
Tom licked into him one last time and then rose to his knees. Frank scrabbled in the nightstand for the condoms and lube. He shoved them down the bed toward Tom. Burying his head in his arms, Frank listened for the foil rip and the wet sound as Tom lubed himself up. Frank waited, his body itchy with need. He held himself still, relieved at the first slick touch of Tom’s thumb against his entrance, testing, spreading lube around his opening. And then the bed shook as Tom knee walked closer, grabbing a handful of buttock. The first hard nudge against Frank’s hole shook him. He shuddered, trying to hold back from impaling himself on Tom’s cock. Tom moved slowly, coaxing the muscle to let him in. Frank relaxed, feeling the pleasurable slide of fullness. Tom withdrew and shoved farther, settling against Frank’s body. A third thrust pushed Frank against the covers, his cockhead tugging on the bunched sheets.
“Are you okay?” Tom’s strained voice was loud in the room.
“Yes. Yes.” Frank closed his eyes, concentrating. “Don’t stop.”
Tom braced himself and pushed harder, a slow rhythm of shoves that grew easier, reached longer. His strokes touched Frank’s prostate, sending sharp pleasure spreading up Frank’s spine. Frank drove a hand between his cock and the sheets. He rubbed his fingers against the head, the urgent feelings
tightening his body as Tom’s thrusts gained momentum. A harder shove, a deeper drag. Frank’s mind blanked, leaving him nothing but the want that engulfed his body, the spasms of his cock throbbing faster and faster, the hard member hitting his prostate again and again. Until he seized up, wetness spilling over his palm and between his fingers. The pleasure spilled into one long spasm that froze the air in his lungs, whited out his vision, and trembled through his limbs. Behind him Tom choked, his movements stuttering before he plunged hard inside Frank.
They lay there a long moment, panting, until the heat of Tom across his back prompted Frank to struggle. Tom rolled off him then, bouncing onto the mattress. The sweat cooled on Frank’s back, and he twisted to look at Tom. The other man stared at the ceiling, but when he realized Frank had turned, he moved onto his side, reaching out a hand to run along Frank’s arm.
Tom said nothing, and Frank only stared at him until he closed his eyes and slept.
Chapter Twenty
Frank woke early the next morning. Most days, he went for a run, so his internal clock had him bounding up and out by seven. But today he didn’t want to leave. Tom snoozed in the bed beside him. The warm inviting expanse of Tom’s back was close enough to touch. Frank lifted a hand to caress the gentle slope of Tom’s buttocks where the covers puddled at his waist, but stopped himself. Frank didn’t want to disturb the early-morning satisfaction that hummed through his veins.
He was really going to do this—a play where his Galen’s syndrome would be an asset. The Atlanta chapter of the Galen’s Syndrome Society had responded to Annie’s free ticket offer with excitement and was sending a representative.
His inner wolf gave a happy yawp. Frank was proud of the progress he’d made. Proud that for once his curse would be useful, essential to some endeavor in his life. He wished he could tell his dad.
Frank glanced at his phone on the nightstand. He grabbed it and rolled out of bed, padding to the living room and the window that faced the woods. Taking a deep breath, Frank turned on his phone and pulled up his dad on his speed dial.
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