When Stars Are Bright

by Amber R. Duell

  I stay firmly in my seat. My nerves are already fraying and seeing the crowd will only make it worse.

  “Don’t you want to see it?”

  The magic. Of course I do. But…

  “Canary,” he prods.

  I lose the battle with myself, the chance to see real magic outweighing my fear. Nik smiles when I jump out of my chair and leads me through the theater to a platform.

  “Hold onto the ropes.” He winks and, as soon as I’m clutching two of the four ropes, he uncoils one hooked to the wall. With swift tugs, he hoists the platform up using a pulley system. I gasp as it rises higher and higher to look over the scenery, hidden from the crown by the valence.

  A man I’ve never seen glances up at me from a planked walkway suspended in the air and smiles. My stomach twists violently. I’m at anyone’s mercy up here… But he shifts his focus to his work, pulling levers and ropes and whatever else.

  “I’ll be back,” Nik promises and hurries to the piano hidden behind the now-moving curtain.

  A hush falls over the theater as the red velvet reveals the first act. Nik plays an upbeat song. Jackie and Theresa swirl, Etta and Gayle somersault, and the twins prance with Chester at their heels. Sparks fire off the floor, cascading back down in a rainbow of colors, and the crowd ooohs. The sense of wonderment swells, and I glance at Nik. His fingers fly over the keys as if he isn’t extending any extra energy, but there’s no doubt that he is. I’m caught up in the excitement as much as the audience seems to be. Though the emotion is entirely different, the underlying notes are the same, almost like a signature. I wonder if mine gives the exact same impression no matter what song I sing.

  Before I realize the opening is over, Nik is already off the stage. Gus, Tommy, and the other band members have taken over the stage, blasting jazz through the building.

  Nik’s magic is the only constant through the show. He glances up at me between acts to offer a reassuring smile, maybe during the acts too, but I’m too enthralled by the stage. Lights float in the air like fairies and each tap of a heel brings a splash of color up from the wooden stage. Eddie’s magic act is real. Golden butterflies fill the air and burst into glitter that rains down onto the audience. Then Ben and Pearl take the stage with the twins to do their comedy skit to a boisterous crowd. I’ve been looking forward to their illusions the most.

  The platform jerks, and I scramble to grab the ropes. “Sorry,” Nik calls quietly. “We’re next.”

  My heart thunders in my chest. Already? After all of those acts? I’ll ruin the entire experience for the audience. Why go out on a bad note after so much talent?

  “Are you holding up okay?” Nik asks when the platform hits the floor again.

  I shake my head.

  “Lina?”

  “What?”

  “I hope you aren’t heated with me. I know I’ve been busy lately. It’s just, there are some things you don’t know about, and...” He shrugs. “I think in protecting you from it, I’ve made you feel abandoned.”

  I fidget with my curls. Protecting me from what? What else could there possibly be? But I don’t have that right to demand answers. What he does is none of my business. “I’m fine.”

  Lies.

  When kids poked fun at me for my past, I held my head up high because I have a mother that loves me. When classmates laughed at the dirt under my fingernails, I laughed along with them because that’s what puts food on our table. When they insinuated Christian was using me, I ignored them because I felt his love for me. The truth is that I cried myself to sleep every time they said those things.

  I cry every night now too, but there’s no consolation for this. No positive side to look at. As of this morning, the theater phone is still out for repair, and I have no way of knowing if Christian’s received my letter yet. All I can do right now is keep stockpiling necessities.

  “I just miss home,” I say when Nik continues to stand there in silence.

  He takes a step closer. “We’ll talk later.”

  I nod simply because it’s the easiest thing to do. It can’t be much longer that I’m in his life—in any of their lives. If there are no delays and Christian wires the money right out, I’ll be home by the first frost. I hope my mother can put aside her prejudice long enough to let him reassure her I’m safe. She’ll beat him with a frying pan before he can get a word out if my luck is any indication. Or maybe they’ll actually bond while I’m gone. She’ll need someone to lean on; it may as well be someone else who misses me as much as she does. If he does… I have to stop assuming he wants me back in his life after I called things off.

  Gayle and Etta stand behind the curtain, wiping the sweat from their faces with cloths by the time we make our way up the steps to wait. Their tight glittering one-piece suits border a line between revealing and glamorous.

  “You look great, by the way,” Nik whispers in my ear from behind. My cheeks burn and I rub my hands over the dress. “Are you ready?”

  I jump. “Maybe.” Not at all.

  “Do it just like we practiced. Ignore the crowd.” He smiles encouragingly. “You can do it, Canary.”

  “The first time is the most terrifying,” Gayle adds. She rubs a smudge of black mascara from under her eye. “You’re voice is absolutely berries. They’ll love you.”

  Berries? “How many people are there?”

  “Enough,” Gayle says.

  Etta snorts. “Maybe three hundred. Three-fifty tops. It’s not the best start to the season.”

  Gayle cringes. “Last year we ended with five hundred. It could still get better.”

  “We’ll survive,” Nik reassures her. “Start with three, end with six, as long as we perform well enough.”

  “Always a dreamer, this one.” Etta smiles with a mouthful of crooked teeth.“Maybe with you, he’ll be right.” I open my mouth to tell her she’s wrong when she grabs Gayle’s arm and drags her away saying, “This strap is cutting into my shoulder something fierce.”

  I turn to watch them weave through stagehands. There’s more life to the theater with everyone rushing around, more than I realized from my lofty viewing spot.

  “I’m not sure I’ll survive this,” I say. Another week suddenly seems like a lifetime.

  “Sure you will,” Nik says. “It’s just one song. After we take our bow, it’s done until tomorrow.”

  My fingernails dig into my palms. “I don’t mean the performance, but thanks for reminding me we have to do this again.”

  The crowd applauds on the other side of the curtain and chaos erupts around us. Two men hoist a rope, and pulleys squeak, sliding the curtain across the stage. Ben, Pearl, and the children scurry around the side of the painted park scenery. Two more men wearing faded jackets wheel the piano to the middle of the stage and Nik stretches his fingers.

  “The curtain will open as soon we’re in position.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out through his mouth, motioning for me to do the same. I don’t. “Just like we practiced.”

  My shoes are suddenly made of lead, and I move to take my place in front of the piano. Nik’s fingers hover over the keys with his eyes closed, just like every day at rehearsal. The pulleys squeak again and my heart threatens to explode. This is happening too fast. Wasn’t I just sitting in the dressing room? Tied up on a ship? Dancing with my other half? I’m not ready. I can’t do this.

  My feet shuffle backward. Don’t run. Running solves nothing. Bolting out the back door will only land me in a worse situation. I can do this. It’s not any different singing in front of hundreds of people than it is singing to an empty theater. Except all the people will be focused on me. Watching, waiting, for me to mess up. Expecting me to give them something worth paying for.

  A lump forms in my throat. I look back at Nik. His eyes are open now and dancing with excitement. The red curtain in front of me moves and fear snakes its way through my veins. Each nerve is on fire. It’s the most intense, terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced. Staying on my feet when
there’s nothing but air between the audience and the stage is a miracle.

  Most of the theater is shielded by the same darkness as before but, with the extra lights at the edge of the stage, the first few rows of faces are visible; the rest exist only as a sensation. Hundreds of heads point in my direct and I fight the urge to look back at Nik again.

  The first familiar notes ring out and I focus on a red light in the back. It’s too late to turn back now. Rushing off the stage is the only thing more mortifying than staying on it. So, when my cue comes, I let the words take over. The lyrics flow out almost effortlessly; my mouth remembers them on its own. I allow my body to go numb to everything but the vibrations in my chest.

  The words pour out like a second breath and the air shifts. The crowd is deathly silent. I sense their rapture almost immediately. It’s weighty and warm, like a heavy blanket and a cozy fire in the dead of winter. The feeling intensifies with each verse. They want the comfort, need the security, of whatever magic I’m spinning. I’m terrified of myself but also energized by their reaction.

  When the curtains swish together, every inch of my skin tingles with excitement. I did it. I really did it. The song went by so fast there wasn’t time to worry about messing up. Nik scoops me up in a hug, a whoosh of air escaping my mouth. The cheer of the crowd roars in my ears. I laugh and hug Nik back.

  “That was even better than before,” he says, leading me offstage.

  The rest of the troupe dashes across the back of the stage, struggling to keep out of the workers rushing back and forth. Augustine leans on her cane just beyond the hubbub, complimenting everyone as they pass. She pats the twins on the head. “Lovely, lovely,” she croons. “Another wonderful show. Well done. And you.” She latches onto my wrist. “John and I would like to see you in the office. Head up, won’t you?”

  I pause. Did she think it wasn’t good enough? Being kicked out now, when I’ve come so far... I need to survive one more week to be where I told Christian I would be. “I’ll change and be right there,” I say.

  “Nonsense. John bought you that dress. He’ll love to see you in it close up.” She pats my cheek and turns to Nik. “Take the final bow and then load up.”

  Nik lets go of my hand, leaving me cold as I head for the stairs. I look back halfway there, expecting to see Augustine behind me, but I’m alone. She hasn’t moved an inch and neither has Nik. I can’t hear their exchange over all the commotion but his face is tight, her eyes narrow. He points a finger in my direction, then hers flies up to hover an inch from his face. Blood colors both their cheeks and, for a moment, I think Nik will slap her. Instead, he turns on his heel and storms toward the dressing rooms while everyone else lines up on stage.

  Augustine moves down the hall, her cane leading the way. “What are you waiting for?” she snaps. “He’s expecting you.”

  My heart pounds three times for every step I take. To think, I was nervous before my act. The way Chamberlains beady eyes stared the last time, enlarged by his lenses, makes my skin itch. One more week.

  I hurry to the office door and rap my fingers against my thighs as I listen to the thump-thump-clack of Augustine coming up behind me.

  Chamberlain swings the door open, beaming. “The woman of the hour.”

  I force a polite, toothless smile in return and look over my shoulder, hesitating on the threshold. Augustine isn’t the biggest comfort in the world, but she’s better than nothing at all. “Good evening, sir.”

  “The old bat isn’t giving you a hard time, is she?” he whispers. “She was pacing around here all afternoon. I thought her hip would give out before she stopped.”

  Old bat? Augustine is at least ten years his junior. “No,” I say shaking my head. “I thought it would be polite to wait for her.”

  “She’ll be here shortly. Come sit. Make yourself comfortable.”

  He stands aside and I have no choice but to squeeze past him. My bare arm skims his velvet sleeve and I dart further into the room. He leaves the door open which helps keep the nerves at bay, and digs out the hidden decanter.

  “A drink?” he asks. “To celebrate.”

  “No. Thank you.”

  “You were wonderful.” He pours himself a glass. “That dress fits like a glove.”

  I fold my arms around my abdomen and move my fingers over the lace, feeling certain that’s exactly why I don’t love it. I dislike it even more now that I know he financed it. It doesn’t matter if Jackie picked it out, only that it’s from this man.

  “Madam Augustine told me tonight that you bought it, or I would have thanked you before.” I force pleasantness into the words.

  “No thanks necessary. Auggie told me with a little shining up, you’d be a star. I’m sure you were fine in your old clothes but a little polish does wonders. No one wants to watch you sing in a flour sack.” He laughs. I hold my breath. My mother’s dresses are made from old flour sacks. It cost more than we could afford for mine not to be but she insisted. “Ah, Auggie. There you are.”

  She shuffles into the room and plops down on a chair, fanning herself. “I’ve never heard such applause before.” She takes the glass Chamberlain offers her. “Keep it up and we’ll be performing at the Palace in no time.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I say. “The other acts were great too, I’m sure.”

  “Right you are,” Chamberlain says. The two share a guarded stare. “Sit down, Lina.”

  “I really should be getting changed,” I say. The last time I sat next to him, he didn’t know enough to keep his hands to himself. “I’d hate for anything to happen to the dress, and I’m rather exhausted.”

  Chamberlain swirls his glass. “That should be my line. I haven’t stayed up this late in years, but I couldn’t miss your first performance.” He leans over the desk and fishes for something on the other side. “These are for you.”

  A bouquet of red roses wrapped in white paper land in my arms. I exhale under the surprising weight. The light scent is pleasant, but the weathered hand on my arm stops me from enjoying it. “I can’t accept these.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Augustine snaps. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

  My cheeks burn. My mother taught me many things, including respect for elders. She also taught me I don’t have to remain in a situation if someone is making me uncomfortable—to trust my instincts about people. “I didn’t mean... I just have nothing to put them in,” I improvise. I want to get out of this room. I’ll take as many flowers with me as I have to in order to make it happen.

  “Of course,” he says. “Where was my head? There will be a vase waiting at the boarding house by the time you get back.”

  I swallow a groan. “That’s very kind.”

  “You deserve it.” He sets his glass down and picks at a lock of my hair. It takes everything I have not to shy away. “Have you reconsidered my offer to show you the city?”

  “I have.” My nostrils flare. “And, while I thank you for thinking of me, I’d rather not. There are rehearsals and–”

  “Your song is fantastic. Someone as pretty as yourself needs to get out and enjoy what life has to offer.” He steps back, his gaze wandering places it shouldn’t. “I don’t want to press you, however. Perhaps next week.”

  I stay silent, clenching my jaw tightly. Next week I should be long gone, and if I’m not, I’ll keep putting him off until I am.

  “Right then,” Augustine says. “Off you go.”

  She doesn’t have to tell me twice.

  I bolt down the stairs as fast as I dare. Please let the phone be back from repair on Monday. Otherwise, I might have a breakdown. One that there’s no way to recover from.

  I shield my eyes from the sun peeking down the alley behind The Den. My bones ache, my head throbbing, after another long, sleepless night. Eddie holds the door open for me, and I skip the last few yards when Nik pops up beside me.

  “Come with me,” he whispers in my ear, then turns to Eddie. “Cover for u
s?”

  Eddie’s lips turn into a lopsided grin, and he backs inside, letting the door swing shut behind him.

  Nik takes my hand and pulls me around the theater to the street. “Nik?” My voice wavers. “What are we doing?”

  “Do you remember the day you got here?” He slows his pace and releases my hand to smooth back his hair. “You asked for my help, but I couldn’t give it to you then. When we got to the boarding house, I promised you, despite how it looked, that I would. I tried with that cop but…”

  How could I forget? It was the second worst day of my life, falling just behind getting kidnapped in the first place. It was the day I nearly gave up on humanity. It was also the day someone finally believed I wasn’t crazy, and when I realized crazy is a relative term.

  “I remember,” I say.

  Nik rubs the back of his neck. “I know it looked bad when I took you to the boarding house, but Walter didn’t send word anyone was with him. Or, if he did, no one told me. I had no idea what to do. I want to explain why it was a dilemma for me, but not today.” He turns down an alleyway behind a tall white-stone building and knocks on a wooden door at the back. “No one can know about this.”

  I tilt my chin and look at him from the corner of my eyes. I’m not sure what’s on the other side of the door but, judging by the anxious look on his face, I either want it desperately or not at all. “Okay.”

  A man in a black suit swings the door open and motions us inside. Gel plasters his light hair against his head, parted on the side. He scans us as we pass, and a wave of heat slams into me from the small black and white kitchen.

  “Be quick,” he whispers to Nik.

  “Thanks, Pat.” Nik hurries along a wall with eight steel ovens nearly twice my height. Flour coats the tables on my left and the warm, homey scent of bread fills my sense. I breathe it in and hold the comfort close.

  When we turn into a tiny windowless office, barely big enough for the desk inside, I’m tingling with anticipation. Nik breathes heavily as he shuts the door behind us.

  He reaches around me and lifts a black candlestick telephone. My heart thuds, a thousand drums drumming in my chest. “Does your mother have a phone?” He lifts the receiver to his ear and spins the zero on the dial.