Follow My Lead: A Joy Universe Novel

by Louisa Masters

  “Derek’s great in awkward social situations,” he promised. “If Rick’s planning to cause trouble, Derek will charm him out of it before he knows what’s happened.”

  That’s reassuring. I’m hoping it won’t come to that, but it’s nice to have backup just in case.

  Derek calls me a little later to reiterate that he’ll run interference, and I ask him to remind me to introduce him to Brice and David.

  I was right when I said everything would come together. The details are all falling into place. Rehearsals are going really well—the performers have all been intimidated into acceptable showings. It took me a while to find the right groove with them—I’m so used to working with highly experienced actors who have egos to match that I was a little too abrasive to begin with. These performers are good, talented, but lacking the experience and recognition that thickens their skins, and they took my critiques a little too much to heart at first. I was never going to be their best friend, or a gentle, coaxing kind of director, but I found a compromise between getting what I wanted from them and giving them the feedback they need to boost their confidence. And once that happened, things really started moving. They’re used to working together, so there was already great chemistry between them.

  We’re three days from opening and we’re ready.

  And I’ve never been more freaked out in my life.

  I just can’t stop thinking about the fact that Rick will be there. About his call. There’s something about that call that really bugs me.

  Why make it in the first place? Because he wanted to set my mind at ease? That’s bullshit—he must know that after the way we ended, calling out of the blue to say “no hard feelings” would stir up a hornets’ nest.

  Worse, that attempt to make it sound like we ended amicably by mutual agreement… there’s a lot wrong with that.

  There’s also nothing I can do. Just wait.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dimi

  Jase and I are in our respective offices early on Saturday morning when I hear someone banging on the (locked) main door. I glance at my watch. We’ve locked ourselves in because the cleaning crew is in the theater this morning and we don’t want to be distracted. As soon as they leave, we’ll do a walk-through to check in on things, and then I’ve got a last-minute meeting with the coordinator from the events department who’s looking after all our VIP functions. Jase is going to the airport to pick up his friends. I’ll hopefully get to meet them before the first party, because I don’t want our first encounter to be when I’m distracted by work.

  Am I nervous about meeting Jason’s friends?

  Yes. In fact, I’d go as far as to say hell, yes. So far, our relationship has been very easy for me in terms of having to impress people. Jase is it. All his friends down here were my friends first—except Trav, but Trav likes me, and we didn’t meet in the context of me being Jason’s boyfriend. Even Chloe, who is indisputably Jason’s right arm at work but occasionally comes over for a meal, knew me first. Jason isn’t close to his brother or sister, and his parents are gone, so his friends are his only emotional connections in the world—except me. And worse, he lost a lot of friends when he and the dickbag broke up. It’s not even like they chose the other guy over Jason, because he moved to LA right away; it was just a case of them not wanting to hang out with him once he wasn’t part of a couple.

  So I really want Brice and David to like me, and I want to like them. Even if we only see them once or twice a year, it’ll be a connection that grew from Jason’s side of the relationship.

  Did you notice the “once or twice a year”? Did you get the hint that this is now A Serious Relationship? It is. I mean, that’s kind of obvious, since Jason and I haven’t spent a night apart in about six weeks, but it’s now at the “I want to tell him I love him” stage. Because I do.

  I’ve said it to boyfriends before, and it was easy. Almost casual. This… isn’t. This feels too important to just… say. I feel like I need to make a big deal about it, but that’s kind of douchey—and anyway, it’s not about any kind of elaborate ceremony or fuss. It’s about the feelings, and I know he returns them. So it should be easy to say.

  I’ll just keep telling myself that. Maybe eventually I’ll come up with a way to say it. Probably not today, though. I’m trying to keep it all together, but tonight is going to be a pretty good indication of whether I’m going to keep my job or not.

  Ticket sales for the next few weeks are great—in fact, completely sold out. That’s entirely due to the hype and publicity. I’ve alternated between friendly and polite and total asshole in my behavior with marketing. The first guy they allocated to the project was brilliant, and I was completely confident it was going to be great, but then he was in a car accident and had to take time off work. He’s okay, by the way. Broken arm and a serious concussion. He’s due back at the office this week—unfortunately too late to resume work on the opening night events, as selfish as that sounds.

  The woman who took over from him is… fine. She’s competent. She does a decent job, and in any other situation, I’d probably have no issue working with her. But this is a special case. My job is literally dependent on how this goes. So are other jobs, potentially, because although JU may not decide to close down the company on the basis of this first season, the public perception will be set, and if it’s bad, it will take a lot of effort to claw back into a good place. First impressions are vital.

  So Denise and I have a very controversial relationship. I push hard. She thinks I’m an asshole. I am, but I want out-of-the-box thinking, not the same generic stuff that happens at every opening night. The VIPs have to be feeling positive and excited before the show even begins. They need to remember this weekend fondly—even after the critics have written their reviews, weeks or months from now, I want them to be at parties and talk about how fabulous their time at JU was and how they can’t wait to get down here again. New show opening? I want them to scramble to be included on the guest list.

  And so I pushed Denise hard, and she complained about me to her boss, who came for a chat and ended up agreeing to directly oversee the project. That way someone else is pushing Denise and she doesn’t hate me.

  Well, not too much, anyway.

  The banging comes again, and I huff and get up. I’m not going to be able to ignore that. Jason’s coming out of his office too, an annoyed look on his face.

  I unlock the door and snatch it open—

  —and am shoved aside by a five-foot-seven whirlwind of spiky bleached hair and rhinestone sunglasses. I stand there, stunned, as he swoops on Jason, crying “I’m here at last!” and snatches him into a huge hug.

  I just blink like an idiot. Another man comes in, stops beside me, and says, “Don’t worry, it takes a while to get used to him. You must be Dimi. I’m David.”

  I shut my mouth and shake his hand, dredging up a smile. “Sorry,” I apologize. “We weren’t expecting you yet. Were we?” I’m sure Jason planned to pick them up from the airport.

  “We got an earlier flight, and Brice decided to surprise Jase.”

  I glance over to where my boyfriend is talking a mile a minute at the same time as Brice. They’re gripping each other’s forearms and look like they might start jumping up and down like teenagers any second. There’s a wide grin on Jason’s face that makes every tense muscle in my body relax. Who cares about anything else when he’s that happy?

  Okay, so that might be taking it a bit far. I still care about other stuff. But I’m so, so glad to see him happy.

  “I’m glad you guys came,” I murmur, then turn to look at David properly for the first time.

  Don’t hate me, but my first reaction is terrible. He’s not who I expected a guy as vibrant as Brice to be with. Isn’t that an awful thought? But where Brice is all glitter and squeals and jumping around, David is dressed in brown tweed—I didn’t even know you c
ould still buy jackets like that—and looks like he’d happily settle into a wingback chair with his pipe and slippers and some obscure book of philosophy.

  “It’s great to meet you,” I tell him. “I wish we had more time together, but—”

  He holds up a hand. “Say no more. I’ve been with Brice, who’s married to the theater, for decades. I know exactly how it gets right before a show opens. We just dropped in to surprise Jase and let you both know we’ve arrived.”

  “David!”

  My jaw drops again as I hear what is unmistakably a squeal from my boyfriend. I had no idea his voice could reach that pitch, and I immediately make a mental note to see if I can get him to do that.

  Jase throws himself at David for a hug and gets a squeeze.

  “You guys! I was coming to pick you up at the airport.” He pulls back and grins at them both, then grabs my hand and drags me to his side. “This is Dimi. Dimi, Brice and David.” He points to each as he says their names. I love seeing him this animated and happy.

  Brice looks me up and down and says, “So it wasn’t just the photo,” which throws me at first, but Jase turns red, and I realize he must have sent Brice a picture of me, which for some reason makes me blush too.

  “It’s good to finally meet you,” I manage, holding out my hand. Brice gives it a derisive look, brushes it aside, and hugs me. He smells fantastic, and I’m just about to ask what cologne he wears when he whispers in my ear, “Hurt him and they’ll never find all the pieces of you.” Then he steps back and flashes a friendly smile.

  “Great to meet you too, Dimi. We’re so excited about the show tonight.”

  Oh my God, I love this guy. Screw one or two times a year, I’m going to make sure we see them once a month, no matter how hard it is to arrange. Jase needs his friends in his life.

  “I was just telling David that I wished we had more time to spend with you,” I say. “I have stuff to do in the theater, but Jase, why don’t you show the guys around and get them settled at their hotel?” I can handle his to-do list at the theater this morning.

  “Are you sure?” he asks, wavering between his sense of responsibility and his desire to spend time with his friends.

  “Absolutely. I’ll call if I have questions, but it should be fine.”

  His smile would be worth having to do a thousand hours’ extra work.

  “Wait, before you go,” Brice says, “Jase said you know about the ex-who-shall-not-be-named?”

  “We’re naming him now,” Jason informs him. “Names have power. He’s no longer the bogeyman in the closet.”

  Brice’s face lights up. “Right, so you know about Rick the dick. I’m really worried he’s going to do something to fuck with Jase. It wasn’t so much what he said, but the look on his face… I don’t know.”

  “You need to meet Derek,” I told him. Derek called me a couple days back, right after we told Trav about Rick, and swore he would make sure Rick never had a moment alone with Jason and that I could safely concentrate on work without worrying.

  “Who’s Derek?”

  “You know Trav Jones, right?” Jase asks.

  Brice nods. “Sure. I worked with him a couple times. Nice guy. Oh hey, he’s here too, isn’t he? I know I read that somewhere.”

  “He is, and living with Derek, who’s one of the assistant directors for the company.”

  “Right, so this Derek guy is on Team Jason?”

  “You and Derek are either going to get along great or kill each other,” I tell him. “Whichever you decide, please make sure someone videos it for me.”

  David and Jase laugh, but Brice rolls his eyes.

  “I’ll call and see if Derek and Trav are home,” Jason says. “We’ll swing by and say hello.”

  I leave them to it and grab my stuff from my office. It’s time to get back to work.

  ***

  My first encounter with Rick the dick (I know it’s obvious, but trust me when I say it suits him so well) is during the preshow VIP event. Jason and I are making only a flying appearance here, since the show looms before us and we want to ensure everything is going smoothly.

  Control freak, you say? Guilty.

  Anyway, Jase and I are doing a quick schmooze. I wanted to stick to his side the whole time, but he gave me a stern look and insisted we could get through the bigwigs in the crowd faster if we separated, so I reluctantly agreed to go right to his left. Fortunately, Derek winked at me and stepped up to join Jason within seconds. Given his position at JU and his relationship to Trav, it was entirely logical for him to do so and took a huge load off my chest.

  I’ve just finished up with a theater critic from Atlanta—and left him smiling, I’ll add—when someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn to see a nondescript middle-aged guy standing there. He looks like he reads GQ religiously but doesn’t have the panache to pull off the style. I wrack my brains to think who he could be.

  “Are you Dimitri Weston?” he asks, and his tone raises all my hackles. I don’t let it show, smiling blandly as I pinpoint the location of a security guard from the corner of my eye. The fact that he’s called me Dimitri concerns me; I made the decision when I took this job that all publicity would refer to me as Dimi. He would have had to dig to know my actual name.

  “Dimi, please” is all I say. I don’t offer a hand either, since he hasn’t introduced himself yet.

  He looks me up and down. “I guess I see it.”

  Yeah. Now I know who he is.

  I don’t give him the satisfaction of showing how much he’s pissed me off just by being in the room.

  “See what?” It sounds pleasant and vaguely bored. I deliberately let my gaze drift over his shoulder. Where’s his lover, the critic who thought it was a clever idea to bring him along?

  “You obviously don’t know who I am.”

  Sighing, I drag my gaze back to his face. “Rick Henessy, right? Jason’s ex? Was there something you wanted, because I have a lot of people to talk to in a very short time.” That might be pushing my luck a bit. I mean, we already suspect this guy is here to cause trouble, and he does have the ear of a very influential critic.

  He looks miffed, and I take the opportunity to examine him properly. Isn’t he supposed to be some sort of shit-hot costume designer? I would have expected him to be dressed… better. Don’t get me wrong, his clothes are top quality and everything matches beautifully, but there’s nothing interesting about the outfit. He looks like a wealthy accountant. Where’s the flair?

  He recovers and sneers at me. “I just wanted to see what Jason has been doing lately. Don’t get too comfortable.” He spins on his heel and flounces away in a total diva move.

  He’s definitely planning something we won’t like.

  I don’t have time to waste on him right now, but I look around for Brice and David as I make my way to the next group of VIPs. Brice is watching me, and from the look on his face, I know he saw the whole thing. I shake my head slightly, and he makes a face. He gets it, and he’ll be on the lookout.

  For now, I have a show to worry about.

  ***

  I’ve never wanted to throw up so badly in my life.

  Not the first time I produced a play for Joyville Amateur Theater.

  Not when I decided to move home and applied for a job at Joy Universe.

  Not my first day of college, when I was away from my family for the first time.

  Not when I fumbled my way through asking Eric Gardner on a date when I was fifteen. Or when I fumbled through my first kiss on that same date.

  Not even that time when I was eight and Sienna fell off her chair and hit her head because I poked her for stealing some of my waffle. There was blood everywhere, and Mom and Dad took her to the hospital, and for hours I thought she was dead and I’d killed her… over a waffle.

  None of that compares to this mom
ent. Although, it occurs to me that it might make me kind of heartless to be more concerned about a show than my sister’s potential death.

  Why am I even thinking about this? There is literally nothing I can do right now, in the silent moment between the house lights going down and the curtain going up. It’s out of my hands.

  The hands I’m wringing so hard, I fear water will start dripping from them. Or blood. I draw a deep breath and force myself to appear completely calm. I’m in the wings, and I don’t want any of the performers to see me stressing and freak out themselves. There’s a seat reserved for me in the VIP section, of course, but for these opening scenes, I didn’t want to be out amongst the audience… just in case.

  Yeah, you can say it. I’m a total coward.

  Trav takes his place on the darkened stage.

  This is it.

  The curtain goes up.

  The lights go on.

  White noise fills my ears, and my vision blurs.

  Breathe, Dimi!

  I suck in a breath, and the world comes spinning back… in a cascade of laughter.

  I focus on the stage, where the first scene is underway… and judging by the response from the audience, not a failure.

  Yet, anyway.

  Don’t be negative.

  I watch and slowly relax. Have I seen better performances? Honestly, yes. Trav is inarguably brilliant, and even with all our work, the others don’t yet have his polish—or raw talent, to be blunt. But they are good, and if it continues like this, it will be a great performance.

  It’s near the first intermission when Jason finds me.

  “I thought you’d be hovering somewhere,” he whispers, and I shoot him a guilty glance. “Promise you’ll go to your seat for the second act.”

  I’ve been planning on that anyway, so I cross my heart with a finger. “I promise.”

  He kisses me quickly. “It’s a success, Dimi. I can feel it, and I’m never wrong about these things.” He disappears into the shadows, where I can just barely see Chloe and our stage manager waiting for him with tablets in hand.