Trevor bounded to the woman’s table, startling her with his sudden presence. He smiled, yanking his tie loose from his neck and pulling it over his head. He felt his pockets for a pen. Damn it. Luckily a waitress was at the next table. “May I?” He pointed to her marker pen, and she handed it over, her jaw slack with surprise. He laid his tie flat on the table and scrolled “Love, Caspian” down the front. Winking, he handed the tie to the woman and her two friends smiled at him.
He checked the progress of Guildenstern but he was stalled, talking to Christina. Quickly, Trevor scrolled the same “Love, Caspian” message on their paper placemats and without taking a breath, gave the waitress back her pen, finally making his way toward Jenna.
The large group of Don’s friends took up the entire back of the diner. There were so many people who had joined the party, they had several tables pushed together to accommodate all of them. Trevor scanned the table, seeing Larry and some other actors from the show. He smiled. That’s one of the things he loved about the New York theatre; there’s only a few degrees of separation between actors—and nearly all are welcoming to each other. Despite the sorrow that covered the group, there was a happy, peaceful feel about them. Larry spotted him.
“Trevor.” He pushed his glasses up higher onto his nose. “Come on. There’s a seat over there next to Jenna. We’re just about to take turns toasting Don.”
Oh, yes, at moments like this, Trevor was so very glad he hired Larry for their director. Trevor slid in next to Jenna, the sparks between them nearly painful. She took a deep breath, shifting in her seat. He sat as still as he could, forcing himself to keep his hands to himself as person after person toasted Don, mentioning how wonderful Don was, and what they had learned from him.
Finally, it was Trevor’s turn. He stood, smoothing his jacket, and Jenna’s gaze followed him. “I’d love to raise a glass, but”—Trevor looked down at the empty spot before him—“the waiter hasn’t been by yet.”
People chuckled as Jenna handed him her coffee.
He smiled at her, and raising the mug, he spoke. “I’ve known Don for many, many years. Like most of you here, he was more than my acting coach; he was my dear friend. And what I know about Don is that he was a fabulous teacher who believed every minute of every day is an opportunity to learn. What I learned from him was that I want to be more like Don—to honor truth in work and in life.” Trevor let his gaze fall on Jenna, and her cheeks flushed. “And what I was reminded of today is that life is uncertain. Many of us know that first hand. So let’s not waste the time we have.” He raised the mug again as he sat.
“Here, here.” Luis raised his juice and everyone followed. “To Don, the greatest teacher and friend. May we all learn from him and find truth in our work and in our lives.”
“Here, here.”
People sipped their drinks, as conversation ensued.
Trevor took a slug of Jenna’s coffee and grimaced. “How do you drink that?”
She smiled. “I’ll get you some black coffee.” She put her hand up to signal the waiter’s attention.
“Wait.”
She dropped her hand. The warmth of her coffee felt great as he cradled her mug between his hands. He spoke in a low murmur. “The coffee can wait.”
He let go of the mug to place his hand on hers, and her eyes dashed up to his. She peeked at her cast mates at the opposite end of the table and slipped her hand from his, fidgeting with her spoon. It was clear their relationship—or whatever it was—made her uncomfortable. Crap. That was the last thing he wanted to make her feel.
“Can I talk to you?”
“Of course.” She kept her gaze turned down to the table.
“What did you mean at the church? That even if I weren’t involved with someone, you couldn’t be with me?”
“I meant exactly what I said.” She glanced up at him.
“Why not?”
She turned to him, leaning closer. Although the restaurant was busy, it was like they were the only two people there, huddled together in their own little world.
“Jenna? Why couldn’t you be with me?”
“What does it matter? You are with someone.” She tilted her head, speaking quietly. “And we both know it’s for the best.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Why can’t I be with you? Well, for one thing, there is no reason to choose to be with another person, because in the end, we are all alone.” She stared down at the spotted spoon before her.
Trevor flinched at her words. They were so sad, and so finite. They were words that came from someone who had experienced too much pain. Thank goodness he was smart enough to know what this was—grief. And everyone deals with grief in his or her own way. “Don wasn’t alone at the end,” Trevor countered, spinning the cup in his hand. “We were with him.”
She shrugged.
“And when Evelyn passed, Don was there.”
“You know that?” She looked up at him.
“Of course. I was there, too.”
Jenna gave a tiny smile, taking the mug from him, and sipping her coffee.
“And what if you’re completely wrong?” Hell, yeah, it was time to dare her. Jenna was always up for a challenge. “What if the only thing that matters in life is being with someone else, because you never know when your end will come?”
“Excuse me?”
“What about all of those poor souls, like my dad, on September 11? What about those people who wait to take their vacations, because they’re too busy with work, just to find out they have a terminal disease? What if I walk out of here and get hit by a bus?”
Jenna gripped the table with both hands. “Trevor, stop.”
“But what if, Jenna? Isn’t that all the more reason to live life now?”
“So what are you saying?” Jenna’s voice was raspy and low.
“Tell me why you can’t be with me.”
“I can’t.”
Her gaze searched his. They sat, staring at each other. There was nothing more he could say, or do.
“Trevor. I know what’s going on here. Death. It—it changes your perspective.” Her gaze dropped to the table and back to him. “At least, it does until we once again get completely caught up in the ridiculous minutia of life.” She twirled her fork absentmindedly, and leaned forward in her seat. “You were reminded you don’t want to waste the time you have? So don’t waste it wondering about me. It shouldn’t matter to you why I couldn’t be with you in some fictitious world. You shouldn’t be here, Trevor.”
He inhaled sharply.
“Look, I’m not trying to be mean. I’m trying to save us both from something we’re going to regret. You can’t risk everything on a relationship that could be over at any moment.”
Trevor adjusted in his seat. “What makes you think it would be over at any moment?”
“Because if it isn’t—that’s even worse.”
“Jenna. I’m sorry. I’m a pretty smart guy but I’m lost.”
Jenna lifted her thumb to her mouth and bit at the nail. “I really like you, Trevor.”
“I really like you too, Jenna.”
“But I’m not dumping my problems on you. The only thing there is for us is the show. Let’s act the hell out of it—as we both can. Let’s be there for each other just like Don told us to be.”
“He also told us to make love.” Trevor raised his eyebrows, smirking.
Jenna blushed that soft pink color Trevor loved. “Trevor…”
“Jenna, look. I’m a grown man, and I know what’s at stake here. At least for me. And no, I would never mess that up. And in case you didn’t notice, I have pretty wide shoulders. I promise I can handle whatever you dump on me.” He grinned. “But what I’m feeling toward you…”
Her gaze leveled on his. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever this is…” She waved her hand back and forth between them. “It doesn’t matter. Not in comparison to everything else.” She sighed. “We have less than two weeks until we ope
n, then a month-long run. And then that’s it, Trevor. It has to be it.”
“I don’t want that to be it, Jenna. Can’t we at least be friends?”
“Friends?”
“Yeah. Go to a movie together. Work on our lines. Talk when we need to.”
“That sounds an awful lot like dating to me.”
“You’re telling me you don’t do those things with Luis?”
“Of course I do.”
“Even without Loretta around?”
“Sure. But that’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want Luis to kiss me…”
Trevor grunted his exhale, shifting in his seat. Her soft voice telling him she wanted to be kissed went straight to his groin. Damn it.
She bit the corner of her lip, looking away and back again. “Does Maggie like to run with you?”
“What?”
“Run. Do you go running together?”
“No.”
“Well, we’re sure as hell not going to sit in a dark movie theatre together, but maybe, if it’s okay with her, maybe we could run together some mornings.”
“I’ll come by tomorrow at seven.”
She pursed her lips together, fighting her smile. “You’ve got to clear it with her.”
Trevor nodded.
She leaned back in her seat, twirling her spoon. “I’m pretty fast; I hope you can keep up.”
He smiled. “That’s okay. I kind of like chasing you.”
Chapter Twelve
“Jenna?”
“Just a sec…” She was talking to the waitress who had stopped by again, probably ordering—oh, who the hell knows.
Trevor smiled. It had been a week since the funeral, and he sat in a booth across from Jenna in a dive coffee shop in the East Village—another place she’d recommended. The coffee shop was like the other places they’d been eating in recently—a real gritty place, with great food, torn menus, and waiters with attitudes. He wanted to bring up this morning, but he wasn’t sure how to start. As she chatted on with the waitress, he fiddled with his water-spotted fork, tapping his foot against the sticky floor. He glanced about at the eclectic clientele—the young hipster guys stroking their beards, the designer-boot-wearing college students pretending to be struggling and not living off daddy’s money, the photographers and models who flocked into these dive places after hours, and a homeless man huddled over a bowl of soup, sitting at the grimy counter. No one cared about Trevor or his celebrity in a place like this, and it was such a relief. This was his New York, and he loved it, and Jenna did, too.
Oh, Jenna. She was laughing with the waitress, about what? He didn’t have a clue. He was lost in his own thoughts and in her beauty. The waitress walked away, and Jenna squared her shoulders toward him. Yes, he wanted to talk about their run this morning, but no, she probably didn’t.
“Want to talk about this morning?”
She fiddled with her coffee cup. “Not really.”
This morning, as they followed their usual running path and approached the reservoir, Jenna ran faster and faster until Trevor needed to push himself to keep up. She grimaced with every step she took, concentration and pain etched on her face, but still she ran faster. It was too much.
“Jenna…” He stopped her by reaching out and grabbing her hand.
She wheeled around, confused, her gaze landing on his. She planted her hands on her hips, panting hard. He reached out and wiped the perspiration off her brow, and she closed her eyes as his hand came to rest on her cheek.
His heart ached for her. “Baby, why are you always running from me?”
She shook her head, not speaking a word. Instead, she turned away and continued to run, leaving Trevor with an unshakable feeling of dread…
But tonight everything was back to normal, which meant, they were back to that freaking, civil, platonic relationship they were allowed to have.
“Jenna…” Damn. Frustration began in his jeans and worked its way up, swirling in his gut. What the hell was happening here? They were a week away from Valentine’s Day and opening night—but also a week away from the date Maggie was expecting at the very least a promise from him, if not a flat out proposal. Thing was, he hadn’t even considered moving forward with Maggie. How could he? If he wasn’t worrying about Toby or rehearsing Hamlet, he spent all of his free brain space on thoughts of Jenna and why she would refuse to be with him even if he were uninvolved. There was no time to think about Maggie. Frankly, he never really thought about Maggie. Crap. What a lousy boyfriend he was. He hadn’t spent the night with her in a month—and they hadn’t had sex in nearly two. The last few times they did, it was less satisfying than a long run or a hot steam.
Trevor shifted in his seat, frustration burning a hole in his gut. Damn, these diners were hot, despite the frigid temperatures outside. Trevor yanked his sweater over his head, catching a glimpse of Jenna, ogling his arms in his short sleeve shirt. He smiled. Okay, maybe a change of tactic. “You know, it’s only a week until Valentine’s Day.”
“Huh?” She tore her gaze off his arms.
He smirked. “Jen? Valentine’s Day is in a week.” He leaned forward, settling his eyes on hers.
“Yeah. Uh, are you nervous?”
“What?” Trevor cocked his head, the question catching him off guard.
Jenna blew on her cup of coffee. She took a sip and scrunched up her face.
“More sugar?” Trevor grabbed the packets.
“Yes, please.”
“What are you up to now? Eight?”
“I think it’s time I share with you, I have a serious addiction to sugar, Trevor.”
“You don’t say.”
Jenna giggled as her enormous piece of pie à la mode arrived. “Yummy.” She squiggled in her seat.
“Is that what you just ordered?”
“Yup. By the way, you didn’t answer my question. Nervous?”
“Nah. You?”
“Not about the play.”
Jenna smiled in a way that went straight to his core.
She dove into her pie. “Mmm.”
Trevor shifted in his seat as she moaned.
“It’s cherry.”
“Seriously?”
“Mm-hmmm…want some?” She held out her plate.
Trevor shook his head.
“Okay, but you don’t know what you’re missing. I think they still use actual lard in the crust.”
Trevor stared at her blankly as Jenna dug her spoon into the pie and ice cream. She pulled it up, licking the spoon.
Trevor adjusted his shirt, yanking the cotton away from his perspiring body. “I’m not sure I can watch you do this.”
“Why not?” Jenna looked around. “Afraid of food poisoning? Don’t worry about their seventy-one health rating. I’ve been eating here forever. Come on, try it.”
Jenna lifted her spoon, holding out a big bite of pie for Trevor. He gobbled it, and she waited for his reaction.
“Mm…”
“See? Sublime, right?” She dug in again, repeating the action of licking her spoon.
Trevor adjusted in his seat, now convinced watching Jenna eat cherry pie with vanilla ice cream was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.
“Want some more?”
“Sure.”
“Order your own then, money bags.” Jenna hunched over the table, wrapping her arm around her pie, protectively.
Trevor burst out laughing. “Really? You’re going to eat all that?”
“Yup. Didn’t you taste it? Why would I share?” She winked.
Trevor motioned for the waitress and ordered another. When she left with his order, Trevor turned to Jenna. “You don’t diet, do you?”
“Nope. Not my thing.”
“That’s amazing.” Trevor shook his head.
“Why?”
“Because the women I know, almost all of them are starving all the time.”
“Women like Maggie?”
“Yes
.” Trevor looked away, uncomfortable and sorry he brought up Maggie.
“Listen.” Jenna put down her spoon. “I would kill to spend a day in that body of hers. Just to know what it feels like. And she’d probably kill to spend a day with my metabolism. It’s just the way life is. I’m a skinny kid, and she’s a goddess. I get to eat pie with ice cream, and she gets to drink air.” Jenna shrugged and picked up her spoon again. “Nothing really makes sense. So we do what we can with what we have.”
“God, I love—” Trevor caught himself just before the word slipped out.
Now it was Jenna’s turn to look uncomfortable. She dug into the ice cream again, her gaze glued to the table. She peeked up at him. “What about you? You ever wish for anything you can’t have?”
Trevor’s gaze locked on hers, his heart pounding.
“Oh.” She blushed.
He smiled.
“Uh…anything else?”
“Sure.” Trevor leaned back and twirled a spoon in his fingers. “I know I sound so spoiled, but I guess most of all I wish I were free to do what I wanted.” He had never before admitted that to anyone—including himself. But the admission was freeing.
“What do you mean?” Jenna stopped eating and squinted at Trevor, trying to understand.
“To play the roles I want to play. To produce. To do more theatre—to take some risks.”
She plopped down her spoon. “So do it, then.”
Jenna looked deeply into Trevor’s eyes, and his core tingled. There was such a connection between them, it was all he could do not to slide into the bench next to her and pull her into his arms.
“Trevor?”
“It’s not that easy. I’ve got commitments. Obligations. You know that.”
“Yes, but if you never take a chance, you’ll never know what else you can do.”
“But I know what I have now. And who relies on me. And what the hell am I complaining about, anyway? For God’s sake, I’m Caspian Locke.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Excuse me?”
To Be or Not To Be: The Actors Page 14