Summer Stock

by Vanessa North

  “She’s pregnant. Eighteen weeks.”

  Ryan sat down hard on the front steps of the theater. “Holy shit.”

  “I don’t mean to pry, and this doesn’t change anything between us, but is there any chance you’re the father?”

  That made Ryan laugh out loud. “No. Absolutely zero. I used to let her boyfriend fuck me while she watched, but that’s as intimate as she and I have ever been.”

  “Okay, I believe you.”

  “You believe me? What’s that supposed to mean? That because I’m bi, I’m some slut who can’t keep it in my pants? She’s a beautiful woman who I care about deeply, but you believe me when I said I didn’t fuck her—how magnanimous of you.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, I should not have told you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have, but you did, so now you and I need to have the conversation we’re having. You get pretty fucking judgmental sometimes, and I don’t need that kind of negativity from someone I’m seeing.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t always . . . I have a hard time believing someone like you would want to be with someone like me. And I get shitty when I feel bad. You don’t deserve that. I’m truly sorry.”

  “I believe you.”

  Trey’s soft laughter told Ryan he understood. “So, if you’re not the father?”

  Ryan scrubbed a hand over his face. “West Brady.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. So, this will be fun.”

  The door to the theater opened, and David popped his head out. “Hey, man, better get in here before Mason loses his shit.”

  “Trey, I gotta go. Listen, if you get back to your house before I do—tell Ali you told me. I don’t want her to be blindsided.”

  “I guess I deserve that.”

  “Yeah, you do. But Trey? I am actually glad you told me, even though it was really super not your place. Gotta go. See you tonight.”

  He hung up and returned to the stage just in time to hear his cue.

  Hours later, he rang the doorbell at Trey’s house, and Ferdinand barked and ran to the door. He braced himself when Trey opened the door and the dog came barreling through. Ferdy gave him a quick sniff all over, and then went running toward the kitchen.

  Trey shrugged. “He likes Ali. A lot.”

  Ryan shut the door behind himself and gave Trey a quick kiss. “Thanks for everything today. She’s in the kitchen?”

  “Yeah. I’ll take Ferdy for a walk so you two can have your reunion in private. Here, Peanut!”

  Ali was standing up when Ryan came into the kitchen, and she threw her arms open wide for a hug. Ryan felt a lump rise in his throat at the sight of her, and he ran over and hugged her as hard as he could.

  “Oh, Al.” He stepped back and looked at her belly. “When are you gonna tell him?”

  She laughed and hugged him again. “Hello to you too. God, I missed you.”

  “You dodged my question.”

  “I need to go in for an anatomy scan sometime in the next four weeks. Once I’m sure everything is okay with the baby, then I’ll tell him—I know it’s not ideal, but neither is finding out you’re pregnant when you’re an addict. I just want to know what, if anything, I’m facing before I ask him to face it with me.”

  “I can understand that—have the doctors said there’s any reason to worry?”

  She shook her head and folded her hands protectively over her belly. “They haven’t—but I’m still scared. It’s not just about me anymore.”

  “Wow, baby. You’re totally somebody’s mom.”

  Her eyes went wide and her smile soft, and she tucked a long brown curl behind her ear with one hand and rubbed her belly with the other. “Yeah.”

  “Are you ready to go to West’s house?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Can we make milkshakes and cuddle and watch old movies?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Is your boyfriend going to come with us? I like him.”

  “No, but maybe he’ll come over tomorrow. I’m glad you approve.”

  As they drove to West’s house, Ali was uncharacteristically quiet, until she put a hand on Ryan’s arm and asked, “Are you and Trey in love?”

  “How do you know if you’re in love with someone? I like him a lot, like he’s a really great person, and I think he’s incredibly sexy. And he makes me laugh—like the way you make me laugh. I just . . . what’s not to love?”

  “He said you were mad at him. That he fucked it up with you big time by telling my secret. Don’t be mad at him for that, okay?”

  “I’m not mad about that. I’m not even mad anymore at all. But I was mad because he sometimes says things that are hurtful—and he means to direct them at himself but they come back at me. When I told him you and I have never had sex, he was all ‘I believe you.’”

  Ali laughed. “Well, goober, you do call me baby and say you love me all the time. You can’t expect everyone to understand.”

  “But if he trusts me—if he loves me—shouldn’t he understand me?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that. West and I love each other like crazy, but sometimes he’ll say something that makes me wonder how we grew up on the same planet. Then maybe I wonder if there’s one world that’s movies and plays—” she nudged his arm “—a world where everyone understands their part. And then there’s another world where it’s all chaos and no one was given a script, and that’s where we live. Some of us are lucky enough to get to visit the one that makes sense.”

  Ryan pulled up to the gate and waved his card at the sensor until it started to slide open.

  “I said almost that exact same thing to West at the beginning of the summer. Not as eloquently as you, but I’m not some fancy-pants screenwriter.”

  “West has only ever lived in the world that makes sense. Except maybe the night that Jason died. That was the first time his life didn’t make sense. He was in love with Jason, you know.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “That’s why I’m not quite ready to face him. I very nearly put him through that again.”

  And Ryan had nothing to say to that. Because he was still pissed at her for putting her life in danger too. Maybe someday he could be that bigger person who was grateful for the accident if it ended up being what got her sober. But he wasn’t there yet, and his anger wouldn’t help her.

  Inside the house, he showed Ali to the master bedroom, then went to his own room, changed into his pajamas, and met her back in the living room.

  “I’ll go make milkshakes—you pick out a movie.”

  She nodded and grabbed the remote as he started toward the kitchen.

  “Hey, Ryan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think it’s okay if you and Trey don’t always understand each other. There is no script. You don’t get to rehearse being in love.”

  Having Ali in town, sober and silly and enchanting, felt to Ryan as if he had found something he’d forgotten he was looking for. He had no rehearsals scheduled for Wednesday—dress rehearsals would run Thursday and Friday—so they took the Ferrari and went shopping in Nags Head.

  Ali, when shopping, was the most Ali.

  She flirted shamelessly, tried on mountains of clothing, and cracked jokes about everything from the season’s colors to whether her bump or her butt was growing faster. Three times, they were recognized and ended up signing autographs and posing for selfies with delighted sales assistants. When they arrived back at West’s house for dinner, they were both happily exhausted. Ryan parked the car and started into the house ahead of Ali.

  “How about when you asked that shoe guy if you could still safely wear stilettos in the third trimester—I thought he was going to have a panic attack!”

  “Oh shit, Ryan. Shit. Shit. Shit. We are so goddamn stupid.”

  “What?” He turned around. Ali’s eyes were wide, staring at her phone.

  “Fuck, fucking shit, goddamn Gossip Miner!” she shouted, then burst into tears and pushed past him i
nto the house. She walked straight to the freezer, grabbed the half gallon of ice cream, and tossed her phone on the counter with a force that made Ryan wince.

  “Spoons are next to the sink.” He pointed at a drawer, and she opened it hard enough to rattle the silverware inside. Then he picked up her phone and read the headline out loud.

  “Bryan Hart Bisexual Baby Scandal.”

  Ali handed him a spoon.

  “I think it’s a little too early to tell if the baby is bisexual,” he joked, mostly to hide his panic at being outed by Gossip Miner of all places.

  Then he scrolled down.

  In addition to Instagram photos of him and Ali in a maternity store with him resting what appeared to be a proprietary hand on her belly, there was a photo of Trey kissing the shit out of him out in the driveway. Oops.

  “Baby, you’re out now.”

  His stomach lurched. “Maybe we should call our boyfriends,” he whispered.

  “Who do you think sent me the link?”

  He closed his eyes. There was no way Trey would have sent it to Ali and not him. Which meant—

  “I’m sorry.” He reached for the ice cream and took a bite.

  “I can’t believe we didn’t ask people not to post the photos on social media.”

  “Who’d have thought we would do something even dumber sober than we did when we were getting fucked up all the time?”

  “I should call him, I guess. This is so not how I wanted him to find out.”

  “Call him. I’ll make milkshakes.”

  When she disappeared upstairs, Ryan texted Trey. Are you out? I mean, like, out to the world out?

  I was Vermont-married to another man for several years. I’m out. Why?

  Ryan took a deep breath and forced himself not to cringe as he sent the link to the Gossip Miner article.

  Trey’s reply was nearly instantaneous.

  How can an unborn baby be bisexual?

  Then a moment later: Are you okay? I’m here for whatever you need.

  I’ll be fine. I just—damn dude. I’m so glad I didn’t out you.

  Ali came downstairs ten minutes later, puffy-eyed and sniffling. “He’s going to charter a plane. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

  “You don’t seem happy about that.” Ryan handed her the milkshake he’d made for her.

  “Yeah, well. How the fuck was I supposed to know he had a Google alert on my name monitored by some assistant? I didn’t want him to find out until I knew everything was okay.”

  “Okay, I get that. But, baby, it’s his kid too. If everything’s not okay, don’t you think he deserves to know that?”

  “Of course he does. But I thought maybe— I don’t know what I thought. It all made sense before and now nothing does.”

  “Come here.” He wrapped his arms around her. “You’re gonna be okay. West is fine. You’ll find out together whether everything is okay with the baby, and that’s how it should be. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Will you be all right if I go call Trey?”

  She nodded. “Then can we do collagen masks and pedicures in front of Breakfast at Tiffany’s?”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  When Trey and Ryan entered the theater Thursday afternoon—an hour early, so Ryan could confess his sins to Mason—the sound of a loud argument carried down the hallway from the office. They glanced at each other, then at the office door.

  “Should we?” Ryan asked.

  Trey didn’t like the idea of interrupting Caro and Mason in the middle of an argument—especially if it was another argument about Ryan—but if Ryan didn’t tell Mason about the Gossip Miner article before rehearsal, there would be hell to pay.

  “I’ve got your back. Lead on.”

  I’m sending him into the lion’s den.

  Ryan knocked on the door and then pushed it open without waiting for a response. Trey followed him into the room.

  “Hey, guys, what’s up?” Ryan asked.

  Caro wiped at her eyes, and Mason glared. “Do you want to tell them?”

  “Our advance ticket sales for the season are way down. From the looks of things, this is going to be the last season of Shakespeare by the Sea. Mason and I are trying to figure out what to do next. Dissolving the company, etc. I think we should wait until after the season to make any permanent decisions. He disagrees.”

  Trey remembered the other argument he’d interrupted, the one Caro had won. Mason had been resentful—and not altogether sold on her reasoning. Why hadn’t they capitalized on Ryan’s presence if it had gotten this bad?

  Ryan sat down, eyes wide with shock. “Wow. What are you going to do? You can’t just—you can’t just close the theater.”

  “Honey, I know you love this place as much as we do. But we can’t stay open at an operating loss.” Caro took his hand. “I’m sorry. I know this is a shock.”

  “Are you sure there’s nothing else you can do? Can I, I don’t know, buy in financially? Be a silent partner somehow?”

  “It’s too late for that.” Mason glanced over at Caro. “Anyway, why are you here so early? Call isn’t for another hour.”

  “Wait, hold on—what do you mean by too late? The season hasn’t even started. Maybe if we, I don’t know, put posters up? Or took out a radio ad?”

  “Ryan,” Trey put a hand on his shoulder, “let the grown-ups sort this.”

  He regretted the words instantly. Ryan’s face went blotchy and red, and his hands tightened into fists.

  “Ry—”

  “Excuse me,” Ryan cut Trey off and stood slowly, smoothly, the only sign of his distress the tension in his jaw and the color on his face. “Mason, I’ll see you in an hour.”

  He left the room with his chin held high, and Trey stood frozen, helpless. What had he just done?

  As soon as the door shut behind Ryan, Mason turned on Trey. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “You so blew it.” Caro shook her head.

  “I didn’t mean— I was just joking. Shit.”

  “That young man has grown up more in the last eight weeks than he had in the eight years before that,” Mason seethed. “And now that you’ve pissed him off, he’ll run out and do something stupid.”

  Unfair. But Trey could hardly call Mason out for being unfair to Ryan after what he’d just said.

  “He won’t do anything stupid. I keep fucking up the things that should be dead simple. I’ll apologize to him. I’ll make it right, I promise.”

  “See that you do.”

  Trey turned to Caro. “You know, you could probably still turn this around if you used his name in the advertising.”

  “No.” Caro shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

  “Why the fuck not? He is so willing to help you.”

  “Because I’m not taking away his last shot!” Caro exploded. “Even guys like my cousin—talented, good-looking guys—they only get one shot at Hollywood. If he’s lucky enough to get a second chance when he goes back to LA, that is it for him. If word gets around that he’s slumming it here in North Carolina . . .”

  “He is not slumming it,” Trey said.

  “Thank you,” Mason muttered.

  “No. We aren’t exploiting him.” Caro stood up and left the office. The door was on a hydraulic hinge so it couldn’t slam, but the soft whoosh as it closed behind her was every bit as final.

  Ryan left the theater in a daze of pain and petulance. Was that really what Trey thought of him? That he couldn’t handle business conversations? That he was a child? He had thought Trey, of all people, was different from the people who wrote him off as shallow.

  He made it down to the beach and out onto the pier before he reached for his phone and called the only person he could think of.

  “Hiya, Rya.”

  “Hey, Al. How are you?”

  “I’m freaking out. How did things go at the theater?”

  “Freaking out—why?”

  “I haven’t seen West in ov
er two months and I’m scared and what if it’s really over? What if he doesn’t want me back—if he doesn’t love me anymore? What if I’m a terrible mother?”

  “You’re going to be a great mother. West loves you. Whether or not you guys get back together, he loves you.”

  “Ugh, why is my life such a soap opera?”

  “I’m not answering that question.” Ryan chuckled. Even freaking out, Ali could make him feel better.

  “You didn’t answer my other one either. About the theater.”

  “I didn’t get a chance to tell them. I’m probably the least of their worries, anyway. They’re having financial problems.”

  “Oh, Ryan. I’m sorry sweetie.”

  “Yeah. It sucks.” Desperate to change the subject, he asked, “What time is West coming into town?”

  “His plane lands at nine tonight. He’s trying to arrange a car service, but a lot of them don’t run that late or are already booked. I guess the busy season has started.”

  “I’ll be in rehearsal until at least eight thirty. No way I can get to the mainland in time.” He frowned. “Please tell me you aren’t thinking of driving out there to pick him up.”

  Silence hung over the line. Finally, Ali cleared her throat. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

  Ryan winced. He’d just done the same thing to Ali that Trey had done to him. “I’m sorry. I’m in a pissy mood. I have dress rehearsal in an hour for Julius Caesar. Text me if you can’t work something out—if all else fails, he can stay in a hotel on the mainland and I can go get him tomorrow morning.”

  “Break a leg at dress. Don’t worry about West. He’s a big boy and can find his own transportation to the island. Love you.”

  She hung up.

  Ryan’s hand balled into a useless fist at his side. A seagull landed nearby and pecked at a splotch of peeling paint.

  “I’m so tired of being useless,” Ryan said softly, his voice swallowed up by the waves.

  The seagull cocked its head, pecked at the dock again, and then flew away.

  “Yeah, fuck you too.”

  He shoved his phone in his pocket, ignoring the vibration of a text notification. There was literally nobody in the world he wanted to talk to at the moment. A new low for the party guy.