Stage Fright (Bit Parts)

by Scott, Michelle

  “Not anymore,” I said.

  Andrew shrugged. “Anyway, I had this creepy feeling that Charles was trying to pimp me out to Victor.”

  My stomach dipped. I wanted to argue that he was wrong, and that Charles would never do such a thing, but the words lodged in my throat. Instead, I said, “What did you tell him?”

  “I believe my exact words were, ‘Go to hell.’”

  “Good.” I slipped my arm through Andrew’s and drew him back out onto the busy sidewalk. “Stay away from Charles and Victor. The Bleak Street, too, for that matter.”

  “I’ll say the same thing to you,” he said. “Cassie, I don’t want you involved in that play. Something about it worries me.”

  How to break the news? “I’m actually the new director.”

  He stopped walking. “What?”

  I tugged on his arm to get him moving again. “Victor offered me the job after he fired Charles.”

  “Cassie, no!”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” I kept my crossed fingers deep in my pocket where Andrew wouldn’t see them. “Besides, a steady paycheck means you can shop at Whole Foods.”

  “Don’t try to buy me off!”

  When we reached my car, I reached into my purse to get my keys and my fingertips brushed against something large and flat. Mystified, I pulled out a small, manila envelope addressed to me.

  Inside was a picture of the Bleak Street Theatre. Written in black Sharpie across the top was, “Become my blood partner and this place is yours.” My jaw dropped. If anything could break my resolve, it was the chance to own the Bleak Street. How had Victor known?

  “What’s that about?” Andrew asked, frowning.

  I shoved the picture back into the envelope. “It’s nothing.” I forced myself to smile, but inside, my guts were churning as I realized what the message really meant.

  Victor might respect my decision for now, but he was not giving up.

  Chapter Fifteen

  By the time we reached my uncle’s restaurant, Andrew had given up on making my car’s heater work. Instead, he wiped down the fogging windshield with the sleeve of his jacket every few minutes. When I hit a bump while turning into the parking lot, the dangling, side-view mirror clattered against the passenger’s door.

  He cringed. “This thing’s a death trap.”

  I pulled into a parking spot. “You don’t know anything about fixing cars, do you?”

  “I got an A in high school auto shop, but all we did was change tires and replace the battery.”

  “Not helpful,” I grumbled. As I gathered my purse, I said, “Don’t worry about picking me up after work. I’m hanging out with a friend tonight.” I tried to hide my smile at the word ‘friend’, but Andrew caught it.

  “Ah, a friend.” His eyes glowed. “Anyone I know?”

  I shrugged. “Remember that guy we saw at the Lamplighter Saturday night?”

  “Tall, dark, and gorgeous? Dreadlocks? Shoulders out to here?” Andrew drew his hands apart. “Nope. Don’t remember a thing.”

  My smile widened. “His name’s Isaiah Griffin, and we had coffee on Sunday night.” Unfortunately, the story about being rescued from rogue vampires would have to wait. For now.

  “You’ve been holding out on me!” Andrew scolded playfully. “When you get home, you’re not going to bed until I get all the details.”

  “There aren’t many details yet, but he does own a comic store. Remember that picture of Holy Comics I texted you? That’s his place.”

  Andrew put his hands to his heart and rolled his eyes skyward. “Oh. My. God! You’ve met the perfect man!” He grabbed my shoulders. “You are not to let this guy go, you understand me? When you two get married, you have to make me your man of honor!”

  I smacked him with the back of my hand, but he just grinned and hummed the wedding march.

  If I hadn’t needed the money, I would have traded shifts with another waitress. My eventful morning at Mercury Hall had wrung me out, and I was in no mood to sling shish kabobs and Greek salads. As I entered Milos Coney Island, however, the smell of roasting meat and French fries greeted me like old friends. My Uncle Mike stood in his familiar spot behind the cash register, reaching around his enormous belly to cash out a customer. The bright lighting, cheerful murals, and sounds of conversation were an island of comfort in a world gone mad.

  As I tied on my apron, I glanced at the clock, noting with dismay the long hours that stood between now and the time I’d finally see the broad shoulders, kissable lips, and soulful, amber eyes of my favorite vampire hunter. Already, my stomach was fluttering in anticipation.

  To keep my mind off the time, I considered 16 Voices. I needed to focus on staging. Something dynamic but not ridiculous. Obviously, Victor’s wire fu idea had sucked, but a simple, proscenium stage wasn’t any better.

  I smiled absently at a pair of men as I refilled their coffee mugs. What would be dynamic without being ridiculous? A series of drop down sets? Risers? When one of the men turned the lazy Susan to reach the cream, my eyes lit up. A revolving stage! Yes! That’s exactly what the play needed.

  One of the men scooted away from the table and held up his hands. “Uh, Miss?”

  I’d been so lost in thought that I’d overfilled his coffee mug. Embarrassed, I apologized and quickly mopped up the mess.

  On my way to refill the coffee pot, one of the other waitresses touched my arm and pointed to the TV mounted on the wall. “Isn’t that the theater where you used to work?”

  On the screen was a picture of the Bleak Street along with a caption that read: Local Actress to Appear on Broadway Stage. The scene cut to a living room where a male reporter interviewed the actress: Tabitha. My heart constricted. Tabby hadn’t yet made it to Broadway, but already she was in the spotlight.

  When the reporter asked what advice she would give to other, aspiring actresses, Tabby flashed a coquettish smile and flipped her blond hair over her shoulder. “Never give up on your dream. You can make it happen if you want it badly enough.”

  “Having a face and a figure like hers couldn’t hurt, either,” the other waitress muttered, walking away.

  Nor could catching a vampire’s eye.

  The shot changed to a picture of the Gershwin Theater in New York City, and a voiceover explained how Tabitha would be appearing in Wicked. I couldn’t stand it anymore and changed the channel.

  I went back to refilling drinks. Over and over again, I reminded myself that the price of Tabby’s success was too high. She’d let herself be the vampires’ plaything for an entire night in exchange for a walk-on part. Nothing was worth that. Still, a voice in my head kept repeating that with one call to Victor, I could ditch my coffee pot forever and share Tabby’s spotlight.

  Despite my attempts to put enthusiasm into my work, I plodded through my shift. I took orders and served food automatically while offering mechanical smiles to my customers. Every ounce of shine that had come from the prism that morning had been used up, leaving me twice as dull as before. Even drinking glass after glass of Coke didn’t increase my energy.

  Towards the end of my shift, Jordan, one of the evening waitresses, said, “There’s a guy here looking for you.” I turned, expecting Isaiah. To my surprise, Geoffrey Leopold slumped in the corner booth.

  The Muse’s curator wore a cheerful, red sweater and brightly-patterned scarf, but his complexion was gray and his eyes dim, like he was suffering through the final stage of a terminal disease. Even his breathing seemed abnormal – too light and too rapid.

  “Water,” he muttered, “and some of that spinach pie.”

  I cashed out, punched the time clock, and fetched Geoffrey’s spinach pie from under the heat lamp. Sliding into the booth across from him, I asked, “How did you know I worked here?”

  “Elena told me.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples like he had a headache.

  “You don’t look so hot,” I said. “Are you okay?”

  “No.” He reached for
his water, and his scarf slipped, revealing a large bruise on his neck.

  I drew back, horrified. “What happened?”

  He yanked the scarf back in place. “Luquin’s a sloppy eater.” He used the flat side of a knife to check his reflection. Lips pursed in disgust, he fussed with the scarf until his bruise was entirely hidden. “He hasn’t mastered the skill of healing the wounds, either.”

  I must have turned three shades paler. So much for Hedda’s claim that being drained by a vampire was as pleasurable as making love. “He can’t keep doing that to you!”

  Geoffrey put the knife down. “Yes, he can. As long as I’m curator of the Muse, he has that right.” I started to object, but he cut me off. “I went into this knowing exactly what was expected of me. I get to run the Muse, but I serve my vampire.” He shrugged. “Besides, Martin said that Marcella was the same way after her induction. This stage will pass.” He took a bite of the pie, made a face, and shoved the plate away. “Food hasn’t been sitting well in my stomach.”

  No wonder. It looked like Luquin was draining him at an alarming rate. “What about your shine?” I asked.

  Geoffrey gave a hollow laugh. His eyes were as empty as caves. “Most of mine was used up years ago.”

  For five, long months, I’d lived without shine, fluctuating between panic and emotional deadness. Added to that were nightmares, forgetfulness, and lethargy. Worst of all, my talent for acting had fled. I couldn’t imagine suffering through that for the rest of my life.

  Geoffrey watched me closely. “Your shine was stolen all at once, but when it’s parceled out a bit at a time, it’s not quite as bad.”

  Yeah, right. I believed that like I believed Andrew’s ex-boyfriend was a nice guy once you got to know him.

  Geoffrey had begun to nervously fold his napkin. “I came here today to give you some advice. I wouldn’t bother to do this for a lot of people, but you’re a sweet kid.” He lowered his voice. “You need to take a blood partner. And quickly.”

  My head jerked up. “No way.”

  “Listen! Word is spreading in the grieve that you’ve found a way to recover your shine.”

  I licked my lips, wondering who had spilled my secret. “It’s not true. I mean, look at me.”

  He did, keeping his eyes on me for an uncomfortably long time. “I don’t see the way they do, so I can’t tell if you’re brighter or not,” he finally confessed. “But the grieve is buzzing. Someone like you – someone who could continually recapture her shine – would be an ultimate blood partner to a vampire whose greatest delight is the very first taste of a human’s soul. As far as they’re concerned, each time you regenerated your shine, you’d become a virgin all over again. Understand?”

  My stomach dropped. Putting it in those terms made the whole blood partner thing even more sordid.

  “Unless you give yourself to a vampire, and I mean soon, even Hedda’s laws aren’t going to protect you.” Geoffrey used his napkin to mop his sweating forehead. Since Sunday, his receding hairline had retreated even farther. “The best you can do is not sell yourself too cheaply. Hedda would be a good catch, but with a gift like yours, you should definitely go after Victor Stuyvesant. I heard he made you a very good offer.”

  Luckily, Jordan was at the front of the store, and my uncle was busy chatting up a customer. Neither of them seemed interested in the bizarre conversation, or Geoffrey’s alarming appearance. Still, I pitched my voice low. “I’m not selling myself to anyone!” The very idea horrified me. “Besides, Victor said I could direct his play without becoming his blood partner.”

  Geoffrey laughed. “If you believe that, then I have a genuine Rembrandt to sell you. Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? The entire grieve is stirred up about this. There have been eyes on you from the moment you left Mercury Hall.”

  Alarmed, I glanced around the restaurant. The place was half full, but everyone was paying more attention to their shish kabobs and French fries than to me. “I don’t see any vampires,” I whispered.

  “I’m not only talking vampires. The vamps are interested in you, of course, but it’s their humans who are really concerned, and rightly so. If you actually can reclaim your shine, Hedda’s vamps might abandon their blood partners and go after you. Right now, you’re in as much danger from the human blood partners as you are from the vamps.”

  No wonder Martin had been so eager for me to go to New York with Victor. He’d been worried that I’d steal Marcella from him.

  Geoffrey’s scarf had slipped again. His neck was one, enormous plum-colored bruise gone yellow at the edges. I put my hand to my own neck as I imagined feeding a vampire for the rest of my life.

  Geoffrey gave me a sad smile. “I know how all of this must sound to you, but there’s another solution.”

  I raised my eyes. “What is it?”

  His face finally registered some life. “Tell me your secret. If I can regenerate my shine, then they’ll want me, and not you.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course! My shine was taken in bits and pieces, so I didn’t notice it as much as you did. But at this point, I’m nearly empty.” Geoffrey looked like a man standing on the roof of a skyscraper deciding whether or not he should step off the ledge. “Tell me, Cassandra. Please!” His hand shot across the table, and he grabbed my wrist. Considering how pitiful he looked, he was surprisingly strong. “What’s your secret?!”

  I struggled against his grip. “Let me go!” So much for the ‘you’re a sweet kid’ speech. The only person Geoffrey was concerned about was Geoffrey. When I couldn’t pull away, I went for the fork, ready to sink it into his arm. Before I could, a large, dark hand squeezed Geoffrey’s shoulder. “I believe she said to let go.”

  Geoffrey’s eyes popped wide, and he released me.

  I smiled up at Isaiah who continued to glare down at the curator. “It’s time for you to leave.”

  Geoffrey jerked from Isaiah’s grip and fussed with his scarf. “Fine. Keep your secret. I’m beyond help anyway. It’s only a matter of time before Luquin drains the rest of my soul and finds someone younger and more attractive to run his gallery.”

  “Why are you worried? Once your soul is gone, you’ll get to be a vampire. That’s what you really want, isn’t it?” The sarcasm tasted as sour as vinegar on my lips.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Not every blood partner is rewarded as lavishly as Luquin Astor. Just ask Charles.”

  “Time to leave,” Isaiah repeated.

  Geoffrey stood up. “Be careful, Cassandra. Don’t think that this gimpy-legged washout is a match for Hedda’s grieve.”

  After Geoffrey stormed off, Isaiah eased into the booth across from me. For such a large man, he moved with surprising grace. I’d been picturing his face all day, yet until that moment, I didn’t realize how desperate I’d been to see him.

  Rather than being angry over Geoffrey’s insult, he looked amused. “What did Luquin’s blood donor want?”

  “Apparently, not the spinach pie.” I shoved the plate to the side.

  When he raised his eyebrows in a silent question, I pressed my lips together. I wanted to tell him everything that had happened at Mercury Hall, but I didn’t dare. He’d already made it clear that he didn’t like me hanging out among the vampires. If I let it slip that Victor wanted to take me as his blood partner, Isaiah would attempt to lock me in my room and stand guard at the door.

  Instead, I said, “There was a lot of drama at the Mercury this morning, and I don’t mean the good kind of drama.” I’d been struggling to keep a brave face all day, but the strain was catching up to me. My thoughts tumbled around like clothes in a dryer, spinning until I felt sick. When someone dropped a tray of dishes in the kitchen, I swore and nearly jumped out of my skin.

  Isaiah reached for my hand. To my relief, he didn’t pester me for details. Instead, he nodded at the murals on the opposite wall. “Who painted those?”

  I looked over my shoulder at the bright paintings. “A cousin
of mine.” Unfortunately, he either didn’t know or hadn’t cared that there is a difference between Italy and Greece. He’d painted a mural of the Parthenon alongside one of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Although the mistake annoyed the hell out of me, my uncle Mike only shrugged whenever I complained.

  Isaiah’s eyes traveled from one painting to the other. “They’re pretty good. I especially like the way the light falls on the Acropolis.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Although, why did he paint the Leaning Tower of Pisa in a Greek restaurant?”

  The tension in my chest eased, and I managed a smile. “I’ve been telling my uncle that for years, but no one ever listens to me.”

  Isaiah’s fingers tightened on mine. “It’s okay to be scared, you know. Before I met Perry, I wasn’t doing so hot, either.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “I could hardly make it through the day, and every time I went to bed, I dreamed about vampires. To stay awake at night, I surfed the web. Which is how I met Perry. We were on the same comic book discussion board and got into an argument over whether or not a baseball bat made out of ash wood could take out a vampire. Before long, we both realized it wasn’t a hypothetical debate. It turned out that Perry was just as miserable as I was. He hadn’t been glamoured like you, but his panic attacks were so severe that he’d had to quit his job. When he told his wife that he’d been ambushed by a vampire, she tried to make him see a therapist. He refused, so she left him and took their daughter.” Isaiah’s eyes met mine. “Once we knew we weren’t alone, things became easier to bear.”

  I studied our entwined hands. His fingers were strong and warm, and his touch was almost as comforting as the energy from the crystal had been. “I’m glad I’m not alone anymore.”

  A hint of a smile played on his mouth. “Me, too.”

  My stomach growled, reminding me that I’d skipped lunch, and breakfast had been ten hours before. “Can we eat before we go? I’m starving.”

  Isaiah let go of my hand and took a menu from behind the napkin dispenser. “What’s good here?”

  “You mean besides everything?”