by Judy Clemens
“And will I like Holly?”
Eric froze.
Casey stopped a few feet down the sidewalk and looked back at him.
His mouth was a tight line. “How do you know about Holly?”
Casey shrugged. “That was the detour I talked about. Why you beat me to Home Sweet Home.” She explained the churchyard conversation.
He put his hands on his hips and looked at the sidewalk. “No wonder.”
“No wonder what?”
“You’re curious about Thomas and me.”
“Yeah, well, I was curious before that. Last night’s rehearsal wasn’t exactly drama-free.”
He gave a quick smile. “I guess not.” He began walking again, and she kept pace with the bike.
“So are you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“Why Thomas hates you? And why you can tell him what to do? Which might be exactly why he hates you?”
“We don’t have time to go into it all right now. Let’s just say his family and mine go a long way back.”
“And it reaches into today.”
He barked a laugh. “More than that. It reaches in, grabs, and strangles until we can hardly gasp another breath.”
Casey blinked. “Wow. Sounds…”
“Awful? Yes, it is.”
“And theatrical.”
“Well…” He held out his hands. “How can I help it?”
“Yes.” She glanced at him sideways. “That was another thing I wanted to ask you about. Your acting skills are—”
“Don’t say it. Please. I hear it enough from Thomas.”
“But you’re so good!”
He winced. “I asked you not to say it.”
“But… I thought Thomas would only tell you you were bad.”
He looked away, then back to her. “Do you really think he could?”
Casey had to smile at his discomfort. “I know he certainly shouldn’t, but from the little I’ve seen of him, he’s not the kind to give out compliments.”
The theater came into view and Eric stopped, putting a hand on the bike’s handlebars. “It’s not that he gives out compliments. Believe me. It’s more like he uses it as a weapon. ‘Look, Eric.’” His voice was gruff as he thumped Casey’s shoulder with a pointed finger. “‘You have to carry this show. If it bombs it’s because you didn’t do what you could.’” He shrugged. “You know. Stuff like that.”
Casey sighed. “The rest of the actors aren’t that bad…”
Eric gave her a look.
“Okay. They aren’t great, but I’ve seen worse.”
Eric took his hand off the bike and they walked the remaining yards to the theater door. He leaned toward her as she set the bike on its kickstand. “Just wait till you see Holly act.”
“Is she—?”
“We’ll talk after rehearsal.” With a smirk he opened the door and gestured grandly for her to enter.
Chapter Twelve
Someone had been working on the poster of the headshots. Becca, Casey figured, in her new role as stage manager. Eric’s photo—a serious black-and-white portrait—was uppermost on the board, with a woman next to him. Holly, most likely, although it was hard for Casey to recognize her from that brief, obstructed glimpse through the church’s bushes.
“You ready?” Eric waited at the performance space’s double doors.
Casey took a deep breath and let it out. “I suppose. Unless it’s not too late to back out.”
“Oh, no, no, no. You said you’d do it. I’m going to keep you to your word.”
Groaning, Casey eased past Eric into the darkened theater.
“There she is! Our savior!” Holly—for there was no doubt who she was in person—swept down the aisle, her hands outstretched.
Casey backed up a step, bumping into Eric. He put his hands on her back, gently pushing her forward.
Holly grabbed Casey’s hands and squeezed them. “We’re so happy you’ve come to join us. It’s been such a hard time, with Ellen dying.” Her large brown eyes sparkled with tears, and she blinked, allowing one of them to make its way down her cheek.
Casey felt Eric stiffen behind her, and she pulled her hands from Holly’s. “I’m glad to help out how I can.” She looked beyond Holly to see Aaron and Jack—the two young actors—sitting on the edge of the stage, watching something across the aisle. Casey followed their gazes.
Thomas stood over a woman, apparently getting an earful. Her face spoke volumes of anger, but Casey could only hear the hiss of sotto voce conversation. Obviously not things the woman wanted everyone else to hear. Becca stood awkwardly behind Thomas, a notebook clasped to her chest. She watched Thomas and the woman with a somewhat panicked expression, her jaw clenched so tightly it bunched into knots.
“Oh, don’t worry about her,” Holly said with a dismissive wave. “She’s from Racine. They have a theater program there, too, and Thomas had called last week to see if she would come take Ellen’s part. She didn’t show up until today, and she’s not too happy about you.” Holly smiled, and a chill ran down Casey’s spine.
“Come on, Casey,” Eric said. “I’ll introduce you to Todd.”
“She hasn’t met him?” Holly laced her arm through Casey’s, turning her back on Eric. “He’s a sweetheart. You’ll love him. Todd!”
She pulled Casey toward the front row of the theater, where a man sat slumped in a seat. He looked up as they arrived, his eyes half-lidded under the salt-and-pepper hair lying over his forehead.
“This is Casey…” Holly looked at her.
“Smith,” Casey said.
Todd raised his chin a fraction in greeting.
“Todd!” Holly huffed, and rolled her eyes. “This is Todd Nolan. Never mind him. He’s glad to have you here, too. Believe me.”
Todd regarded Holly with disgust, but tempered it once he realized Casey was watching him. Something resembling a smile appeared momentarily on his face, but was gone just as quickly.
“And this is Leila.” Eric gestured toward a young woman, who tore her adoring gaze from him long enough to acknowledge Casey briefly.
Casey looked questioningly at Eric, and he responded with barely disguised, almost desperate, tolerance and frustration.
Holly’s grip on Casey’s arm tightened, and Casey looked up to see Thomas and the woman headed in their direction. Becca trailed behind.
“Thanks for coming by,” Holly said to the woman. “It was good to see you again.”
The woman pursed her lips and looked Casey up and down. “Hmphf.” With that, she turned and stomped from the theater.
Holly’s hand dropped from Casey’s arm and she took a step away. “Well, thank God she’s gone.”
Thomas transferred his gaze from the departing woman to Casey. He obviously wasn’t convinced he’d gotten the better deal.
“Okay, people,” he said. “We have a play to rehearse. Does she have a script?” He jerked a thumb at Casey, not looking at her anymore.
Becca handed Casey a book, her mouth twitching. Casey wasn’t sure if it was suppressed laughter or discomfort, but whichever it was, Becca didn’t meet her eyes.
“We’re going to go through from beginning to end,” Thomas said. “To get a feel for…Casey…and so she can see what we’ve done. The scenes we’ve worked, we’ll act out. The ones we haven’t, we’ll just read. Go.”
Becca jumped onto the stage to set the furniture for Scene One, and Aaron swung his feet up, helping Becca move the folding lawn chair into position. Todd eased himself from his front row seat and strode to the side of the stage to ascend the stairs. Casey watched him, open-mouthed.
From Todd’s slouched position in the theater she’d had no sense of his true form. But now, as she watched him position himself in the chair—as Orsino, the Duke of Illyria and her character’s love interest—she couldn’t help but be impressed. Over six feet tall and fit, he moved with a sense of ease. Almost lethargy. Charismatic, maybe not. But good-looking? Absolutely.
A muffled laugh interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to find Eric at her side, Leila close beside him. “He looks good, doesn’t he?”
Casey shrugged, embarrassed at being caught staring.
“The problem,” Eric said into her ear, “is when he opens his mouth.”
And just then, he did.
“If music be… the food… of love, play… on; Give me excess of it…, that surfeiting…, The appetite may sicken…, and so die.”
Casey covered her mouth with her hand in the hopes of smothering the laugh wanting to come out.
Eric nodded. “Kind of makes you want to go to sleep, doesn’t it?”
Casey spoke through her fingers. “And after only one line.”
“It’s been a problem at the bank,” Eric said. “Where he works. People nod off in the middle of securing a loan. They wake up wondering what papers they’ve signed while they’ve been asleep.”
A giggle escaped Casey’s lips, and Thomas glared over at them. Casey bit her cheeks as Todd continued droning along. Aaron, as Curio, tried to put some life into the scene, and Jack bounced on as Valentine, but Todd’s underwhelming aura overtook the stage.
The scene, only two pages, was enough to give Casey the urge to launch into calisthenics, but it was time for her to read. She stood, looking for whoever was to be the Captain.
No one stood with her.
“Where’s Lonnie?” Thomas’ voice hummed with tension.
Becca jumped up. “I’m sorry. With that actress showing up I forgot to—”
“Call him!”
“Okay. Sorry. Sorry.” She pulled out her cell phone and punched in a number from her contact sheet.
Eric stood. “I’ll read with Casey.”
Thomas glared at him. “We’ll see what Lonnie says first. She should be reading with the actor who’s actually doing the part.”
“Okay. Just trying to be helpful.”
From the other side of Eric, Leila studied Casey with narrowed eyes. Casey smiled at her, but the girl didn’t return the compliment, turning away with a huff.
They all waited, listening partly to Holly voicing that it was so disrespectful of their time for Lonnie to be late, and partly to the disjointed half-conversation Becca was having.
Becca hung up. “He’s in Columbus.”
“Columbus?” Thomas’ face went red. “What’s he doing there?”
“Um…shopping?”
“Shopping!”
Eric burst out laughing, and Casey was tempted to join him, except for her worry that Thomas was about to bust a vein.
“I told you he wasn’t dependable,” Holly said. “That he’d have other priorities.”
Thomas’ voice was even and measured. “Does he plan on honoring us with his presence tomorrow evening, Becca?”
“Yes. He said he’ll be back in plenty of time for tomorrow’s rehearsal.”
“Oh, well good. I’m so glad he’s thinking of us.” He straightened the papers on his lap. “Eric, if you would be so good as to read Lonnie’s parts this evening.”
Eric stood quietly beside Casey.
“Well, do it!” Thomas waved a hand.
They read through the scene, Casey enjoying the interplay with Eric, and the cast continued on, Leila performing the part of Maria, and Eric filling in where necessary, in-between his scenes as Feste the Fool. Soon it was time for Holly’s first scene, and Eric caught Casey’s eye. She watched with anticipation as Holly made her way to the stage.
Eric began the scene, Feste engaging Olivia in conversation. Moving smoothly through his speech, he ended with the greeting, “God bless thee, lady!”
Instead of answering with the simple, Take the fool away, the script called for, Holly paused, took a deep breath, threw out her chest, and pointed off-stage, her face averted. “Take. The Fool. Away!” She punctuated this by swinging her arm back to her body and snapping open a fan, hiding half of her face.
“Do you not hear, fellows?” Eric answered, as Feste. “Take away the lady.”
Casey bent over double in her seat, her hands over her face as she held in the guffaw threatening to explode from her mouth.
“Go. To,” Holly said. “You’re a DRY fool. I’ll NO MORE of you. Besides. You grow. DIShonest.”
Eric cleared his throat. “Two faults, Madonna, that drink and counsel will amend.”
Casey snorted through her fingers, then made a show of pulling a tissue from her bag and blowing her nose. For the next few pages she kept her face in her script, desperately searching for her next scene, to renew her acquaintance with it. Unfortunately, her next appearance was in the latter part of that very section, and she would have to read with Holly.
Casey glanced around, thinking that for sure Death would get a kick out of her predicament. But the theater’s seats remained empty.
Her lines approaching, Casey went to the side of the stage. If she read from her seat, she was a lost cause. Her only hope of avoiding an embarrassing and potentially violent scene was to lose herself in blocking. She waited for her cue line, took a deep breath, admonished herself to be as professional as possible under the circumstances, and stepped onto the stage.
“The honorable lady of the house,” she said. “Which is she?”
How she made it through the line—and the rest of the scene—was a small miracle, but before she knew it she was back in the seats, watching Aaron and Jack plot their characters’ wicked schemes.
Eric stayed away from her for the rest of the read-through, which was definitely for the best, because Casey wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold it together if he so much as looked at her. It was also good because Casey was afraid Leila would break into a snarl and bite her if she went anywhere close to Eric. She’d have to ask him what Leila’s deal was, although it seemed obvious the poor girl had a hot and heavy crush on him.
Somehow they stumbled through the rest of the play, stopping only once to get Holly a painkiller from the theater’s first aid kit—Oh, the stress! My head is bursting!—until they reached the end and Becca sent them on a short break. Casey fled outside, where she paced the sidewalk, taking deep breaths and gritting her teeth. She didn’t know if she would be able to go through with it.
If only Reuben were there.
And I, most jocund, apt, and willingly,
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die.
She stopped, staring blankly at the building across the street. Oh, Reuben. He’d been so dashing up on the stage. He could make people laugh one minute, and cry the next. A true actor. As good as Eric. It was as a result of his passion that she’d ended up in theater at all. If it hadn’t been for him, she never would’ve thought of taking her hapkido skills in that direction. She laughed to herself, remembering the first time she’d tried choreographing a stage fight. The poor man playing Long John Silver had thought she was going to actually kill him. She’d probably come closer than anyone liked to think about.
After that Reuben had thought it best she get a little actual theater training. She’d done that, taking a few stage combat workshops and working for a summer Shakespeare company. She was surprised how much she’d enjoyed it. She hadn’t expected to. Hapkido gave so much more physical satisfaction. But the thrill of the stage and the response of the audience had called to her…
Footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned, expecting Eric. Her greeting died on her lips.
“You did a good job in there.” Todd, the good-looking but lethargic banker, lounged against the side of the bench. “Done much acting?”
“Thank you. Some.” She stopped pacing. “And you?”
“Just here.” He gave a lazy smile, tipping his head back toward the theater. “Whenever they need a respectable-looking, non-teenager kind of guy they call me.”
“Sure.”
He pulled a water bottle from his jacket pocket and held it out to her. “Drink?”
“Oh. Thanks.” She twisted open the top and took several swallows, thirst
ier than she’d realized.
Todd opened a second one and took a few genteel sips. “You here because of Eric?”
“Eric? Oh. Well, sort of.” It was true. If it hadn’t been for him, she most likely wouldn’t have agreed to do the part. In fact, she would’ve left the theater the night before after hearing the others perform, and Thomas wouldn’t have discovered her at the back of the room.
“I hear you’re a fighter.”
She glanced up.
“Aaron and Jack. They told me about last night’s rehearsal.”
“Oh, that.” She shrugged. “I’ve done some stage combat choreography.”
He took another swallow, eying her over his bottle. Casey averted her gaze, squeezing her drink in her fist.
“So where did Eric find you? Or are you one of his theater buddies from the good ol’ days in Louisville?”
She looked back at him, wondering if she dared ask what those good old days consisted of. But Todd’s expression was shuttered.
“I stopped in at Home Sweet Home.”
“The charity supper? You were there?” His face went hard, and he drained his bottle before tossing it into the trashcan beside the bench.
Casey itched to pluck the bottle out of the barrel and find the nearest recycling bin, but knew that wouldn’t make her any friends at the moment. “Is that a problem?”
“No. Of course not. Why would it be? It’s a good place. A good thing.”
The door opened and Becca stuck her head out. “Ready to get started again?”
Todd took a quick breath through his nose and held out a hand toward the theater, his eyes focused somewhere just beyond Casey’s shoulder. “After you.”
Casey screwed the lid back on her water bottle and walked past him, wondering why the mention of Home Sweet Home had made him break out into such a sweat that a bead of it was rolling down the side of his face.
Chapter Thirteen
“So you survived.”
Casey shook her head and swung her leg over her bike, ready to head back to The Nesting Place, since rehearsal was over. “Barely. And you didn’t help.”
“Me?” Eric placed his hands over his chest, his eyes wide with innocence. “What did I do?”