by Adele Buck
Alicia seemed caught off guard by the question, though it seemed normal enough to Colin. “Um. No. I guess I always did sing. And then when I started to get small roles in musicals, I would pick up what I could from the leads, the musical directors, whatever I could get. I’m pretty self-taught in general.”
“Well, you’re a good student, I can tell.”
Alicia laughed at this, a blush reddening her cheeks. “You can, huh?”
“Trust me, I’m a professional.”
“Oh really?” Alicia appeared skeptical, but amused. Colin couldn’t figure a way into the conversation, but much as he hated to be a spectator, he also thought he might learn something from the interchange. He sipped his drink and settled in to watch.
“Yeah. That’s how I met this guy.” Russell bumped Colin with his elbow.
“You were his…teacher?” Alicia looked from one man to the other, eyebrows lifted questioningly.
“Classmate, actually. I was getting an advanced tax degree when Colin was getting his U.S. legal degree. Somehow, we became friends. I teach there now. That’s how I know you’re a good student. Anyone who can teach herself a thing so well is bound to be.”
“You teach ‘there’ now? Where is there?”
“Georgetown Law.”
“Ah.” Alicia seemed to retreat in on herself and she scanned the now near-empty club with thoughtful eyes.
“It’s not that bad,” Russell said.
Alicia laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. “No, I was just wondering what a girl with a high-school equivalency is doing talking to two guys who have really fancy degrees, that’s all.”
Russell rolled his eyes again. “It’s not as fancy as all that.”
A tight smile passed over her face. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree on that one.”
“Do you really have no college degree?” Colin asked.
Alicia tensed. She didn’t usually open up about her education—or lack thereof—at all. It was too much of a window on her past, her family, all the things she normally didn’t talk about to anyone. But she had gone and given the show away. Again. He was here because she had mentioned she performed here, and on what night she did it. What was it about him that caused her to blurt out any old thing?
Well, nothing to do but brazen it out. If she couldn’t run, she fell back on bravado.
“Yes. I didn’t finish at eighteen, but I got my GED.” Eventually.
“That’s very impressive,” he said.
Don’t patronize me, asshole. A bolt of energetic fury shot through her, but she maintained her cool veneer as best she could. “Oh, yes. Very impressive to someone with a fancy Georgetown degree.”
He looked puzzled. “You seem to mistake a degree for something it’s not. I merely meant that most people find Shakespeare difficult. You not only understand it, you play it. And with, I assume, very little of the formal training that everyone else seems to find so necessary. So, yes. I do find that impressive.”
Cut off at the knees, Alicia floundered. She had been prepared for condescension. She hadn’t expected a compliment. She glanced at Russell to see if he could give her a clue to the real situation. Was she being mocked and she was just too stupid to know it? No. His eyes were sincere and he nodded in agreement with his friend.
“I agree. Impressive,” Russell said, cocking a thumb at Colin. “This guy is always trying to get me to go with him to the Folger for productions, and I always find something else to do. I just don’t get it.”
“You haven’t tried it.” Colin’s response was almost a growl. This was obviously an old argument between the two.
“Wait, you have all this education, and you haven’t tried Shakespeare?” Alicia asked.
Russell shrugged. “I mean, I did what I had to do in high school. I read Hamlet. I didn’t get it, but I read it.”
“Such a well-rounded man, you are, Russ. A cultural paragon,” Colin said.
“Oh, for shame, Russell,” Alicia said, her equilibrium returning. “You really should try at least one show.”
“I’m getting ganged up on now, aren’t I?” Russell grumbled. “I liked it better when you two were annoyed with each other.”
Alicia darted a surprised look at Colin, realizing that they were allies. At least for the moment. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but she pushed that aside. She had been off-balance enough for one evening. It was time to reclaim her usual control.
“Well,” she said to Russell. “I only have a small part, but you’ve met me now and you’re just going to have to come see the play before it closes. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised as to how much you enjoy it.”
Russell looked wide-eyed from Alicia to Colin and back again.
“Don’t worry,” Colin said. “I’ll go with you to translate if you need it. And I’ll buy you the Cliff’s Notes.”
Chapter 4
“She really took the drug?” Russell whispered in Colin’s ear.
Colin held a finger to his lips. Russell had seen Juliet open the bottle and drink the potion. How much did he need spelled out to him?
“But Romeo’s going to figure it out, right?” Russell’s whisper rasped.
Colin turned with wide eyes on his friend. “You’re serious?”
“Well, I thought maybe they changed it for this production. Like…a reboot or something.” Russell’s face looked truly anxious. Colin was aghast—then remembered his own belief that the production might spin in an entirely new direction based on Alicia’s performance. His skin prickled with anticipation.
A woman in the row in front of them turned and glared at them. Colin mouthed a silent Sorry, and she returned her eyes to the stage.
“Just be quiet and watch,” Colin commanded in the barest murmur, pointing at the stage.
Alicia bustled in, rebuked the sleeping girl, shook her, discovered the girl’s supposed death. Followed by the entrance of Juliet’s mother, the sorrow.
And then, there it was. The rage. The unshielded fury directed at Juliet’s father. It was plainly visible even from their back-row seats in the little theater. Colin found it both unnerving and riveting. Stealing a glance at Russell, he saw that his friend was also captivated.
The all-too-brief scene was over, and the play moved on. Colin found himself restless for the curtain call, the opportunity to see her after. She had grudgingly given him her e-mail address before they left the jazz club, and his message that they would be there that evening and would love to see her afterwards had received a brief reply:
Wait for me in the Great Hall after. I’ll come out when I’ve had a chance to clean up and change.
When the curtain call began, Russell leaped to his feet, pounding his hands together and cheering as Alicia took her bows with the actor who played the Friar. Clearly hearing his holler, she peered out into the house and pointed a finger at Russell, winking as she moved off for the next group to claim their share of the applause. Russell whooped in triumph.
“She saw me, did you see that? She saw me!” Russell smacked his hands together even harder.
“Russell, you’ve met the woman.” Colin watched as the cast took their final bows together. How did he ever not recognize her? In or out of the makeup that aged her and the costume that attempted to transform her into a lumpen, anonymous servant, he should have known her.
“I know, but it’s different now somehow,” Russell said as the applause died down and he gathered up his program.
“How?” Colin was amused, almost in spite of himself.
“I don’t know.” Russell waved his program at the stage. “I guess, just seeing what she can do…it’s kind of amazing. Even more than the singing. I…I don’t know how to explain it,” he trailed off as they shuffled out of their seats and into the aisle.
“Well, get ready to meet her again, Mr. Starstruck. And get ready to get gone.”
“I still think you should have been my wingman,” Russell said.
Alicia stopped, straig
htening her shoulders before rounding the corner to step into the Great Hall and smoothing one hand over her hair. She had worked product through it and combed the longer part into a sort of pompadour high off her forehead. No coquettish strands falling across her eyes this evening. She didn’t feel flirty. She wanted to feel in control, strong.
Stepping around the stone wall into the long room, she almost ran into Colin and Russell. For some reason, she had expected them to be at the other end near the lobby, but they were close to the stairs that led to the dressing rooms.
“Hi,” she said, reining in her startled reaction.
The two men smiled at her in unison, Russell’s mouth stretching joyfully, miming applause, his program flapping in one hand. “I don’t know what I was expecting,” he said, “but that was phenomenal.”
A reluctant grin spread across her face. “Thanks. It’s a great cast and a great director. Needless to say, it’s also a great play.”
“Well, I think you were especially fantastic,” Russell said.
Alicia chuckled. “I think it’s just that you already knew me. You were bound to be biased.”
“Actually, no,” Colin said. “I noticed your performance particularly the first time I saw the play. It was rather incredible.”
“Um, thanks,” Alicia said, examining the toes of her shoes, her pulse picking up. She wasn’t usually this awkward with compliments.
A swift motion at the periphery of her vision caught her attention and Russell coughed. “Um. So, I have a morning class tomorrow. Have to be up early to prepare. I just wanted to say how great you were. So. Um. Hope to see you again, Alicia; you were really, really great.”
Alicia smiled, surprised at his sudden awkwardness. “No, thanks for coming, Russell. It was nice to see you again.”
“Right. Great.” Russell leaned forward, and to her surprise, gave her a brief peck on the cheek. “Have a good night.”
Alicia watched as he hurried across the Great Hall and down the short set of stairs to the lobby. “That was…weird.”
Colin’s expression as he watched his friend leave was grim. “Well, that’s Russell for you.” He took a deep breath and looked at her. “I don’t suppose you have time for a drink?”
Blinking, Alicia took a deep breath. Ah. Russell’s sudden exit now made a lot more sense. “Are you sure?”
“Why wouldn’t I be sure?”
“I don’t know, you tell me. You seem to think actresses are inherently untrustworthy. Aren’t you worried about consorting with such a dangerous type as me?”
“Are you going to hold that against me forever?”
“Depends.”
“On what?” Colin asked.
“On how honest you are yourself.”
Colin just looked at her for a moment, stunned. “Of course I’m honest,” he said.
She returned his look with the same intensity. “Okay,” she said at last. “Where do you want to go for a drink?”
Nonplussed, he blinked. “That’s it?”
“What, you want me not to trust you?” She cocked her head at him, one hand on her hip. Her appearance this evening was different. Her hair was swept back off her forehead, and her clothes were simple to the point of severity. High heels and slim black jeans topped by a clinging black tank top were sexy, but also intimidatingly tough. She looked like a biker chick on her evening off.
“Um. Not at all.” A small smirk played about Alicia’s lips as he fumbled. “I mean, it’s just that…” His words ran down to nothing as he searched for something articulate to say and came up empty.
“Yeah. I know what you mean,” she said, starting to walk toward the lobby, not looking back to see if he was following. The high heels made her hips sway as she moved. His eyes fixed on her ass, round and tight in her jeans, and he almost groaned. Oh yes, he was following. She turned at that moment and caught him ogling her body, smirking as his eyes snapped up, his face burning.
“You coming?” she asked, her face suddenly a mask of innocence.
“Yes.” Colin cleared his throat, realizing that she had done it again. She had thrown him off balance with nothing more than words and looks. The difference was, this time he didn’t care.
In fact, he was slightly worried that he might start to like it.
Alicia breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that guilty look on Colin’s face. Fancy education or no, he was still just a man. He hurried to catch up with her, and she slid her eyes sideways at him, gratified at the slight flush she could see on his cheekbones. When they reached the lobby door, he held it open for her, and she could feel her eyebrows rise in surprise. They nearly reached her hairline when he paused at the top of the stone steps to the sidewalk and offered his elbow.
“Very…courtly of you,” she said.
“Blame it on my very British mother. She was a stickler for etiquette,” he said, holding the elbow steady, his dark eyes fixed on hers.
Unsettled, Alicia slid her fingertips into the angle of his arm, trying to ignore the heat radiating from his body. He was so…hard. And warm. His arm settled back against his side and she could feel the rise and fall of his ribcage against the back of her hand as they walked.
Turning down the street, the illuminated Capitol Dome rose against the darkened sky. Alicia’s breath almost caught in her throat. It was astonishingly lovely and ethereal, despite the stone solidity of the structure.
“What’s the matter?” Colin asked.
“Nothing.” She felt a nervous smile slide across her face, which annoyed her.
His gaze swiveled to face front, and he smiled slightly. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“I haven’t gotten used to it yet,” she admitted. “It’s so different from New York.”
“Yes,” he said. “One of the reasons why it feels like home. It’s a bit more like London than a lot of other American cities.”
“It’s nothing like Minneapolis, that’s for sure.” Alicia’s jaw clamped down.
What was wrong with her?
Colin didn’t miss the sudden tension in Alicia’s hand just after she mentioned Minneapolis. They turned the corner and started to walk past the Supreme Court building, wide stairs and stern statues directing the way up toward the imposing columns of the highest court in the country. Colin admired how the capitol buildings’ white stone façades made for beautiful, if ghostly, pictures against the summer night sky.
“So, you come from the American Midwest,” he said.
The barest pressure of her hand against his arm informed Colin that he had struck a nerve. He was about to say something inconsequential to defuse the moment when Alicia spoke.
“Yeah. A Swedish blonde named Johnson. There’s only about a zillion of us.”
“Are there?” he said.
“Yeah. Minnesota, Wisconsin…Scandinavians are apparently attracted to a place that’s just as frigid as the places they came from.”
He chuckled. “Have you been to Sweden?”
“No. Never traveled abroad at all.”
“Are you serious?” He stopped and turned to her.
“As a heart attack. Don’t even have a passport.” Her eyes were clear and without guile.
“Oh.” She shot him a sardonic look as they began to walk again, and he felt like a heel. She had told him that she wasn’t educated. But she was a Shakespearean actress. How was he to know where her sophistication began or ended?
Then he remembered Russell’s ingenuous questions about Romeo and Juliet. His friend’s education was top notch. And yet, Russell claimed not to “get” Shakespeare.
“What made you leave England? I’m guessing England isn’t much like D.C., so you’re not like my ancestors.”
He coughed, wondering how much to tell her. “Again, my mother. When she died, I didn’t want to be in England anymore. I needed a fresh start. America is the land of fresh starts. So here I am.”
Entering the bar, Alicia found that she was feeling an emotion she couldn’t have predicted.
Sympathy.
Colin seemed so confident. Cultured. Smart. Powerful, even. But he had confessed to something painful. Alicia wondered if he had done it on purpose for some strategic reason. Sliding onto a bar stool, she cut her eyes sideways to look at him. He was raising a confident hand. This was more what she had expected. Someone like him always knew they could get the attention of a bartender. She waited for him to order a gin and tonic, her drink at the club. That’s what guys like this did. They noted the first thing you ordered and would order it for you forever, without ever asking if it was what you really wanted. It was like they wanted to fix you in place so you couldn’t move, couldn’t change, couldn’t be a real person.
“What would you like?” His large, dark eyes filled her vision, and she was confused for a moment.
Okay. So, scratch that notion, then.
“Um. White wine. Thank you,” she said, choosing at random.
He placed the order, and their drinks came almost immediately, the bartender moving efficiently down the bar to take the next order. Colin tipped his glass to clink against hers. A noisy party of people pushed to the bar beside him and he moved his stool closer, his knee brushing against hers.
“To our resuscitation of a cultural illiterate. Dear old Russell may never be the same.” The ghost of a mischievous smile hovered at the corners of his lips.
“Hear, hear,” she replied, sipping her wine. “How is it that someone like him, with that much education, has never seen a Shakespeare play, anyway?”
Colin tipped his head, considering. “I think you’re confusing culture with education. Russell was always driven to excel in his field. He specialized. His education was intensive and good, but not broad.” He took a sip of his whiskey and set it back down on the bar.
“And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“What was your education like?” Alicia felt like she was walking a tightrope. This was a conversation that could never be anything more than one-sided. But she was curious.