Love and Loathing

by Gigi Blume

  It played in my head like a recurring nightmare. I didn’t want to make terrible movies for the rest of my life. I also didn’t want to be a sad bachelor anymore. There was nothing I could do to change Beth’s mind, but I could change the direction of my career.

  I sent my agent Tobias a text as I arrived at the Gardiner Tuesday morning and waited for the fury of Hades to rain down on me.

  I’m going to pass on the next Dangerous film. We’ll chat later.

  I was sure my phone would start buzzing with salty replies. So I switched it to airplane mode. I’d deal with Tobias later. For now, I had to focus on Pirates. Opening night was in two days, but our invitational preview was on Wednesday. That was the performance for the press, VIP guests, entertainment bloggers, and industry professionals. I heard a rumor Rita Moreno would be in the audience. It was an important night at the Gardiner. And we only had one full day of rehearsals to get the show up.

  With the bustle of getting in costume, warm-ups, fight call, and tests with the rope swings, I didn’t see Beth until we were on stage singing ‘Here’s a first-rate opportunity’ and she was slung over my shoulder. Not really an ideal time to catch up on current events. Cole was relentless with every second of our rehearsal time. We ran the show four times in quick succession with only a half hour to devour a quick lunch. Stella had pizza delivered. I waited in the green room to catch a few words with Beth, but she never came for a slice. At the five-minute call, I found her coming back from the stage door. She was frowning at her phone.

  “Hey,” I called to her. “Is everything okay?”

  Her eyes betrayed surprise at my appearance. Or maybe horror.

  “Yeah, sure,” she answered with a strained giggle. “They really need better hold music at Chula Vista Memorial.”

  She’d been on hold with the hospital the entire lunch break.

  “You need to eat something.”

  “I’ve been snacking on trail mix all day,” she said. “You do not want to throw me over your shoulder with an angry belly full of pizza.”

  She laughed adorably and artlessly. I loved her laugh. It was sunshine and summer vacation and frozen bananas on Balboa Island. I was addicted to her laugh, and all I could think about was how I could get her to do it again and again. Maybe she’d have dinner with me. There’s only so much trail mix one can eat.

  “What about dinner?” I asked. “After rehearsal.”

  I probably should have specified it was an invitation to have dinner with me. Darn words getting in the way of what I really wanted to say.

  “Great advice.” She snapped with both hands and shot me finger guns.

  Good old friend zone finger guns. “I’ll pick up some tacos on the way home.”

  “Right,” I said. “It’s Taco Tuesday.”

  “Yep.”

  “Not to be confused by Taco Wednesday.”

  She laughed again. Oh, my heart!

  “Definitely not.” Her little nose crinkled in concert with a bright, effervescent smile. “There’s no comparison.”

  A soft blush claimed her features, and I let my eyes rest on them like a weary traveler would look upon his home. I could have stayed there the rest of the day had the overture not begun to play. We were late.

  “You should probably get into places,” she said with a warm smile.

  “Oh, no,” I cried. “I’m not in costume.”

  I didn't have time to ask if we could chat later. I had to run. On the plus side, I got on stage in record time. If only quick changes were an Olympic sport. Bing gave me the wild eye. The one that says ‘Where the heck were you? You almost gave us all a heart attack.’ Admittedly, I barely made it through that number with a spare breath. I was used to running in chase scenes but singing long notes while out of breath is something I wouldn’t recommend. Be prepared for your entrances, folks. That’s your public service announcement for the day.

  Fortunately, I knew my part so well after all those continuous run-throughs, I could use my time off-stage to observe Beth from the wings. She was radiant under the lights. She belonged on the stage. A star in the night sky. A golden orb at dusk.

  At the top of the second act, as I was lost in the vision of Beth dancing with a lantern in the moonlight, Bing made a comment in my ear.

  “She is simply sublime.”

  “That she is,” I agreed, never taking my eyes off Beth. Somewhere, it registered he was speaking about Jane. Her delicate solo in Oh, Dry the Glist’ning Tear was pleasantly lulling. But I only saw Beth. Simply sublime Beth.

  “Will,” said Bing when the song ended. “I’ve been doing some soul searching lately.”

  That makes two of us.

  “I think that’s very wise, Bing.”

  “You do?” he said in a surprised tone.

  “I do.”

  “Oh. Me too.”

  “What did you find?” I asked. “When you searched your soul?”

  He let out a long sigh, one he’d kept buried deep in his lungs for weeks.

  “My parents divorced as soon as I moved out,” he said. “They only stayed together for my sake. They never loved each other.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.” I turned to look at him with sincerity.

  “Can you imagine living your life like that?” His voice quivered slightly.

  I shook my head. “That would suck.”

  “It would totally suck.”

  He turned his attention back to the action on stage. He’d have an entrance soon. I observed his face as he watched the object of his affection. He looked so boyish in his goody two shoes sailor costume. He wasn’t a boy, though. And he certainly didn’t need my misguided opinions.

  “You won’t let that happen to you,” I observed.

  “No.” He puffed up his chest and grabbed his prop to enter the scene. “I won’t. Although I almost did.”

  “I’m sorry for that,” I said. “I shouldn’t have interfered at all.”

  A short laugh jumped from his throat. “You give yourself too much credit. I’m responsible for my own decisions.”

  “If you say so.”

  He smiled at me and for the first time in our acquaintance, we both felt the bond of a true friendship.

  “I say so,” he said. “Hug it out?”

  I slapped him on the back and reached out for a handshake.

  “Maybe we can work up to that.”

  “Gotcha,” he said, shaking my hand. “See you on stage.”

  I watched him make his entrance and join Jane on the stage. He was following his heart. If only I had that same luxury.

  30

  Something Else

  Beth

  I should have invited Will over for tacos. There were more than enough to go around; I picked up a party pack at Taco Bell. He probably didn’t eat tacos anyway, washboard stomach and all. Not that I was obsessing over it or anything.

  Bing rode with Jane to my apartment, pulling into the parking lot at the same time. I waited at the curb, so we could walk in together, but they weren’t getting out of the car.

  “Hey, you guys coming?” I knocked on the hood of Jane’s car. “Nobody likes cold mystery meat.”

  Jane waved her hand out the driver’s window. It was dark, but I could swear her eyes glistened with tears.

  “Go on ahead,” she said. “We’ll be right in.”

  What was going on with these two now? Why was that man always making her cry? I wanted to tap on his window and get some answers. But it was getting chilly, and I knew Jane would tell me eventually. Hopefully, without telenovelas or Cap’n Crunch hair. I made a mental note to hide the remote.

  The front door to my apartment was unlocked and as I entered, Lydia’s balloons, flowers, and stuffed animals assaulted my eyes. Was it my imagination, or were there more gifts than before? They took up every spare inch of my apartment.

  Lydia lounged on the sofa, propped up with copious amounts of pillows and blankets. Her sister sat next to her on the floor, tenderly strokin
g her hair.

  “Finally,” Lydia exclaimed. “I’m starved.”

  Nora had sent me a text an hour before rehearsal ended saying they’d arrived at home, and Lydia was jonesing for bar food. I responded with a taco emoji and she responded, with impeccable grammar, that they would await my arrival. I was so relieved to hear the good news and left the theatre the second Cole finished giving notes.

  “Shall I bring your dinner to you and feed you by hand, Cleopatra?” I joked while unpacking the party pack on the breakfast nook.

  “Har har,” Lydia grunted as she tried to lift herself from the couch. Nora shot up from the floor to assist her.

  “Take it slow, Lydia. I’ll bring you a plate.”

  “My butt hurts from sitting on it for two days straight,” replied Lydia. “I think I can manage a few steps to the kitchen.”

  Nora wrapped her arm around her sister’s back and helped her maneuver to the kitchen table.

  “Should we wait for Jane?” she asked.

  “She’s in the parking lot with Bing,” I said resentfully. “Who knows how long they’ll be.”

  Nora’s eyebrows arched with curiosity, but she didn’t know us well enough to press for details. All she said was, “Oh.”

  “So, are they back together or what?” Lydia asked with a mouth full of crunchy taco.

  I shrugged and filled three glasses with water. “Who knows? I can’t keep track anymore.”

  I decided I was done worrying about it. I could hardly keep track of my own life.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” Nora abandoned her taco to retrieve a smallish box from among the plethora of Lydia’s gifts. “This came for you.”

  She handed me the package and sat down to her meal.

  It was a simple brown box weighing hardly anything. I looked at the shipping label. One day express. No return address. Curious. I didn’t order anything online. I ran the edge of the kitchen shears over the packing tape and gingerly unfolded the flaps. Packing peanuts spilled on the counter as I reached in to find a smaller box with intricate designs embossed in gold. I recognized it immediately. The year bulb I left behind at Will’s house.

  “What is it?” questioned Lydia impatiently. She was a sucker for delivered packages. Even when it was just vitamins.

  “Oh,” I said absently. “Just something I accidentally left at a friend’s house.” I took the shipping box off the kitchen counter, careful to sweep the packing peanuts back into it, and headed to my bedroom.

  “I’m just going to put it in a safe place. Be right back.”

  Closing the door behind me, I sat on my bed and stared at the little box. Why did Will send it FedEx? Why couldn’t he hand it to me directly? Was this his way of cutting ties with me? We still had a six-week run ahead of us.

  I opened the lid and ran my fingers over the silk lining. I was almost afraid to take the ornament out of its snug little bed. It had to be so fragile. Like me. How did I get to this point in life? Delicate and so easily broken—in love with a man completely out of my league.

  Something caught my eye amidst the packing peanuts. A small, red envelope with the initials W.M.D. gilded in a script font. How many types of stationary did that man have?

  Will with a quill strikes again.

  With a measure of trepidation, I opened the envelope. I feared the words inside. What would they say?

  Have a nice life? Goodbye and good riddance? The lyrics to I Don’t Ever Want to See You Again from the musical Dance a Little Closer? Or We Do Not Belong Together from Sunday in the Park with George?

  I took a brave breath and let my eyes fall over the handwritten lettering. Straight and precise. All neatly written caps except his signature.

  SOMETHING ELSE YOU LEFT BEHIND.

  -Will

  Something else? What else did I leave there? My soiled dress? Was he upset I left it soaking in the bathroom sink? He could throw it away if it bothered him. I didn’t even realize my eyes were wet until the salt from a single tear reached the corner of my mouth. Gross.

  I closed the box and shoved all the contents of the package under my bed. There was no sense in letting it bother me at this point. Also, tacos. My tummy hurt from hunger.

  I was a new Beth with a new life, I decided. A life brimming with possibilities and opportunities. A life in New York with my bestie. What did I have to lose? I would take Jane up on her offer to share an overpriced studio apartment in Manhattan while she dazzled the audiences of Broadway, and I hit the pavement at four in the morning to stand in audition lines. It doesn’t get much more glamorous than that.

  When I returned to the kitchen, Jane and Bing were sitting at the table, feeding each other nachos.

  Gag me.

  Ten minutes ago, they were having a cry-fest in the parking lot. I was so over the whole world.

  “So, did you guys finally figure it out?” I realized my tone came off as jaded. I didn’t care. Soon, we’d be rid of this drama. And I was determined to finally get my taco. Jane shared a conspiring glance at Bing as I leaned over them to grab my share of the meal. They giggled, looked from one another’s glowing faces to me, and blurted, “We’re getting married.”

  31

  Take Heart, Take Mine

  Beth

  Perhaps it was opening-night jitters. Or maybe it was the hailstorm of insanity my life had become. One minute, it was Jane and Beth take on Manhattan. The next minute, she was setting up her engagement website. Her theme was white gothic. Whatever that meant. But as I walked into the stage door Wednesday afternoon, I knew it was neither the opening-night jitters nor Jane that had me in knots. It was five words.

  Something else you left behind.

  It made me sad and confused and frustrated. And frankly, a little angry. Why so cryptic? I knocked on Will’s dressing room door, but he didn’t answer. I must have arrived before him, so I took The Hobbit out of my bag and placed it on his vanity. I thought about leaving my own cryptic note but decided it was too much effort. So, I left without getting to say, ‘thanks for sending the ornament’ or ‘break a leg’ or ‘what the heck did you mean by something else?’

  I took my time getting ready, applying my makeup just right, pinning my hair for the wig cap, steaming my voice. As more cast arrived, the dressing rooms became more clamorous. A few cast members pranked one another in various ways, so there were lots of screaming and laughing. It was hard for me to find my pre-show zen.

  At least I was lucky to share a dressing room with Jane. Not only was she a lot more mellow than the ensemble, she got ready in record time, so she could spend as much time as possible with Bing prior to curtain.

  The assistant stage manager passed all the dressing rooms, tapping on the doors.

  “Fifteen minutes.” His voice boomed through the hallways.

  “Thank you, fifteen,” I responded. I looked in the mirror and silently gave myself a pep talk.

  You’re the girl with the lanyard.

  Another knock sounded on my door. Maybe the ASM didn’t hear my response.

  “Thank you, fifteen!” I bellowed.

  “Is that the proper way to greet your guests?”

  The image of Catherine de Bourgh filled the reflection of my vanity mirror. She stood in the threshold of my dressing room, having clearly let herself in.

  “Oh. Hello,” I stammered, turning to face her. “I thought you were someone else.”

  “Evidently.” Her eyes did a once-over of the room. Whatever she expected my dressing room to look like, she clearly didn't approve.

  Well, this was awkward.

  “Um… if you’re looking for Stella—”

  “I’m not.”

  “—or Will…”

  She closed the door with a soft thud and took three steps into the center of the room.

  “I’m here to see you, Miss Bennet.”

  I blinked once and watched her stare me down. Her severe eyes burned white hot, and she lifted her chin, so she could narrow them on me down the bridge o
f her nose.

  At length, she said, “Are you not curious why I’m here?”

  “Um… candy gram?”

  “I’m not interested in your jokes, Miss Bennet. I’m here because I heard something rather disturbing about you.”

  Something rather disturbing? It couldn’t have to do with the dress I left soaking in the sink. Could it? Maybe she knew about the Jorge fiasco.

  “Do you have any idea what that might be?” she questioned. She needed to get on with it if she wanted to see the top of the show.

  “No,” I replied. “Enlighten me.”

  She bristled at my remark but went on anyway.

  “I’ve heard through less than reputable sources, that you’re in a serious relationship with Will Darcy. Considering the validity of the source, I must say I could hardly believe it. Even so, despite it being ridiculously impossible, I decided to hear it straight from you.”

  I stared at her for a long moment, incredulity clouding my understanding. Was she seriously confronting me about my love life?

  “Why don’t you ask Will?”

  “I intend to,” she snapped. “But right now, I’m talking to you.”

  “If you’re having such a hard time believing these rumors, I wonder why you bothered to come backstage to see me.”

  “So,” she scowled. “You admit someone is spreading rumors. Perhaps it was you and your friends.”

  “Why on earth would I do that?”

  “May I ask you now if these rumors are false?”