Serious Fun

by Jessie Gussman

  “What you don’t know will change what you think you’re sure of.”

  “It won’t.”

  She swallowed, and her eyes drifted over his face, as serious as she’d ever seen it. His ball cap curved over his eyes; his wifebeater was covered in sawdust and dirt. His arms glistened with sweat, and his hands were fisted next to his strong, jean-clad thighs. His boots were spread apart and planted. She shivered. He was the handsomest man she’d ever seen, better than the heroes in her romance novels, flesh and blood in front of her, and he’d just said he’d fight for her. To have her. She should be swooning, rushing to him, wrapping her arms around his neck...but she couldn’t.

  “I don’t want to jeopardize the play, and the children’s library, because I went after something I wanted that I shouldn’t have gone after to begin with.” And once he knew that she couldn’t have children and would likely die young, it would be the final nail in the coffin.

  “I can respect that.” Turbo’s words were carefully neutral.

  Harris’s brain waged an internal struggle with her heart. It wasn’t fair to push Turbo away. He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he’d done everything way too right. But she couldn’t use the “it’s me, not you” cop-out. Even if it were true. A man like Turbo deserved more. More than her.

  He shifted. “So, I guess this argument started because I didn’t text you.”

  “I just wanted to make sure the play is okay.”

  “Play’s fine.”

  “You’re still going to be in it?”

  “Said I would.”

  “I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

  “Lady, I think you need some awkwardness in your life.” He turned around, grabbing the handle of the maul as he walked by it, and walked to the stump. With one big swing, the billet sitting on the stump broke in two, pieces flying. He picked up another unsplit piece without looking at her again.

  She should be relieved. He’d said he would still be in the play, said he wasn’t angry and things should be fine. So, why did she feel like crying?

  The angel food cake felt heavy in her hands. She didn’t feel like continuing on to the Smiths’ house and trying not to look like she was trying not to cry. She walked through the yard and set the cake on Turbo’s truck, before turning and heading back to her car.

  TURBO WALKED INTO THE old theater just a couple minutes late. He’d spent the afternoon working at Torque’s garage trying to get his motor wired up, which hadn’t happened, and they finally figured out that they’d been sent the wrong wiring harness. Now there would be another two days of delay while they waited for the correct harness to come.

  But he’d been filthy and hadn’t wanted to show up at Harris’s play practice looking like a grease monkey. So he’d taken the extra time to shower. He also hadn’t wanted to do anything to upset Harris after their argument of earlier. He still hadn’t figured out what she’d wanted him to text, unless it had just been something along the lines of he wasn’t mad and wouldn’t ruin her play.

  He thought again of their kiss and the quiet bonding time holding her under the stars. Nothing had ever felt more perfect to him. True, his life hadn’t exactly been polluted with picture-perfect family memories, but still. He knew a good thing when he saw one, and what Harris and he could have was a darn good thing. A great thing. It frustrated him that she didn’t see the value in their relationship. Frustrated, but didn’t surprise him. After all, even he didn’t think he deserved her.

  There were only a few people at the practice. Harris had said that only the main characters would be practicing for the first week. So the little brown-eyed girl sitting with her nose in her script must be the one playing Annie. Camila, Harris had said. She was a cute little girl. Made Turbo wonder what Harris’s children would look like. Harris’s and his. That thought should have scared the bacon out of him, but it didn’t. Actually made him excited. He loved kids. Spent enough time chasing Torque’s rug rats around, plus the strays he found wandering around the neighborhood that reminded him of himself as a kid. Wild. Unruly.

  He’d never really thought about having kids of his own, but he could see it with Harris.

  They’d have her bright hair and smart brain, maybe his smile, her drive and determination, his sense of humor...

  “Okay, everyone.” Harris stepped out on stage. “Daddy Warbucks is here, so we can get started.”

  A little jolt of nervousness went through him, but he shoved it aside. He’d prepared all day for right now. He’d faked it for years in high school. He should be able to handle a two- or three-hour practice.

  He looked at Harris out of the corner of his eye. Still wearing the same clothes she’d worn to the Smiths’ house. He’d taken the cake she’d left inside when he was done splitting wood, and they’d all had a piece before he’d left. Delicious. Hopefully their kids could cook like her too. He snorted out loud. There he was thinking about “their” kids again.

  “Mr. Baxter. Is there a problem?” Harris stood on the stage, looking down at where he’d plopped in a seat in the front row.

  “No, ma’am,” he said with a straight face. He wasn’t going to give her any reason to accuse him of sabotaging her play.

  “Good.” She sat down on one of the chairs that were arranged in a circle on the stage. “If all of you will come here and join me in the circle, we’ll introduce ourselves and get started. I just wanted to do a readthrough today and mainly talk about some of the scenery, where we’ll need to take breaks, and also where we’ll need to deviate from the movie. For instance, there won’t be the helicopter scene at the end, of course.”

  The other actors had gathered around, so Turbo got up too and hopped up on the stage. As soon as she said they couldn’t do the helicopter scene, his brain had started conjuring up ways to make it work. They could do the helicopter scene. It wouldn’t be hard. Ideas popped up like bugs in summer. He tried to shut them down. This had always been one of his problems in school too. He couldn’t concentrate on the lesson, because his brain was never still and seldom quiet. Always deviating from whatever the teacher was trying to say. And the more he tried to suppress it, the more it felt like it was on fire. For Harris, he’d deal with the heat.

  Another man and two women joined the circle along with the little girl. Harris waited until Turbo sat down before clearing her throat and beginning.

  “I would like to start by introducing our two professional actors who have graciously agreed to be in our production.” Harris nodded at the young woman sitting across from Turbo. Her long blond hair fell like a waterfall over her shoulders, and she gave him a worldly smile, full of promise. Her look made him want to look down and check to make sure his pants were zipped. He didn’t.

  “This is Mia Babcock. She is going to play the secretary, Grace. She’s starred in several major productions prior to this. I’m excited that she’s agreed to help us out.”

  Harris nodded to the woman beside Mia. “This is Aalyiah Cook. She’s playing Miss Hannigan. She, too, has starred in several major productions prior to this and will also be a huge asset to our cast.”

  Harris smiled. “Beside me is Camila Sanchez. She’s playing Annie. She has a personal interest in the hospital library, having spent more than a little time at the hospital over the years. And, man, can she sing.” Camila’s face broke out into a huge smile.

  Harris then introduced Dr. Dennis, who was playing Punjab, and Jeff, who was playing Rooster, and finally Turbo, with no inflection in her voice. She also didn’t meet his gaze but looked over his shoulder before going back to her notes. “So, let’s not waste time. Next week, the rest of the cast will be here, and we’ll have several weeks of practices before the weekend of the performance. If we sell enough tickets, we’ll have two performances. One Saturday night, one Sunday night. Let’s start at the top. I’ll read all the parts that are not represented here.”

  Turbo closed his eyes. Crunch time. He’d had earbuds in all day and had listened
to Annie, particularly Daddy Warbucks’s parts, over and over. He’d done this in school and been moderately successful—good enough to graduate with a little extra help; he’d paid to have all his writing assignments done for him. Other people might call that cheating. He called it survival, with guilt.

  It had prepared him for the real world. When he ran into a problem, say, like invoicing loads that he’d hauled, he hired it out. Of course, he was able to do some things himself. It took him longer and was a serious struggle, but words like Pittsburgh and Lancaster he’d seen often enough and could pretty much guess at. Sometimes he guessed wrong. That’s where the joking came in handy.

  When he hadn’t been able to fake it in school, he’d created distractions. Harris would hate him if he screwed up her play, but he wasn’t sure what was going on with her anyway. She’d been cool and distant since their kiss.

  He’d almost been at the point where he’d have been willing to open up and take the biggest risk of his life with her. He’d never had a relationship that had gotten that far, so he wasn’t sure how to handle it. All his life, he’d had superficial relationships—come in the front door with one girl, walk out the back with another. They couldn’t see his real self if he didn’t let them get close. Harris was a woman worth pursuing and most definitely keeping. He hadn’t suspected he would like her quite so much. Far more than any other woman. But his guard had to come back up. He couldn’t show his secret to a woman who couldn’t be trusted.

  Harris began to read.

  Turbo listened. Thankfully the dialogue followed the movie pretty closely. They skipped Annie’s first song, which was a bit of a relief, meaning that he probably wouldn’t have to sing today. Although he wasn’t really worried about that. When he and his brothers were young, his gram had made them sing at nursing homes. That was before they’d gotten kicked out because he rearranged the decorations on everyone’s doors, which started a bit of a civil war in the one nursing home because certain women had blamed certain male residents.

  Then, of course, there was the rabbit incident where he’d taken two bunnies and a bag of rabbit food and placed them in a strategic—hidden—spot. The bunnies had babies before the workers had been able to discover their hiding places, and those babies had had babies before they actually called an exterminator to get the last of them removed. They hadn’t ever actually pinned that one on him, but they still hadn’t been welcomed back. But on the bright side, the residents had a blast talking about bunny sightings for months. Definitely brightened up the atmosphere of that home, which, with its black floors and low ceilings and small windows, had been the most dreary one they’d gone to. Tough had decided he’d rather die in a truck at a rest stop along the highway than ever get put in one of those.

  He jerked out of his thoughts. Everything was quiet, and worst of all, everyone was looking at him. Crap. He knew what that meant.

  Harris had an irritated, I-knew-you-were-going-to-do-this look on her face. He’d love to prove her wrong, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the first lines Daddy Warbucks spoke.

  He cleared his throat. “You know, I was kind of thinking we should strike this line out. It’s kind of controversial.”

  “‘I smell wet dog’ is controversial?” Harris asked with one red brow lifted.

  Turbo shrugged. “You know. Animal rights and all that. People might get upset if I imply that wet dog smells bad, you know?”

  “No. I don’t know.” Harris folded her hands carefully and set them in her lap. Turbo’s heart hurt for her because all she wanted was to have a successful play to raise money for kids in the hospital to have books to read. But he wasn’t being a pain on purpose. “Are you going to read your part, or are you going to argue about it?”

  He met her eyes. They were filled with disappointment. His chest constricted. He didn’t want to disappoint her. It was the last thing he would willingly do. “I smell wet dog,” he said, without taking his eyes off hers.

  They continued on. He stumbled a couple more times, and each time he was able to come up with a smart-aleck comment to keep anyone from suspecting the real reason he wasn’t saying the lines. He vowed to listen to the movie until he could recite it in his sleep.

  Finally they’d made it through, twice.

  “Saturday and Sunday evening, people who have songs to sing will be practicing from 6-10 with our music director and the small orchestra she’s put together. I’ll be there as well. I know I already mentioned it, but please make sure it is marked on your calendars. We have a very short window of practice, since most of the people in the production are normal people with real jobs. We need to make every practice count.” She smiled. “Thanks so much for coming, and I’ll see you all tomorrow night.” Her smile faded. “Turbo, I’d like to talk to you after everyone else leaves.”

  Now he really did feel like he was in high school. It was hard not to adopt that attitude as well. He felt like slouching in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. But this was Harris, and she might not know it, but he’d really been trying. For the first time, what someone thought of him really mattered.

  Chapter 12

  HARRIS HUGGED CAMILA. “You did a great job tonight, hon.”

  “Thanks, Miss Winsted.”

  After waving to Camila’s mom, who was waiting in their car with her younger siblings, Harris closed the door behind Camila and stared at it, trying to contain the crushing disappointment in her chest. Turbo had acted out like an unruly schoolchild. She should have known that he wouldn’t be able to take practice seriously. He’d interrupted the flow of the play, annoyed Mia, who was used to working with professionals, and made the rest of the cast laugh and look at practice as fun time rather than serious learning time.

  A woman’s peal of laughter interrupted her thoughts, and she turned. Mia. She’d thought Mia had left. But Turbo stood onstage, his foot on the chair he’d been sitting in, his arm draped casually over his knee. Mia’s hand was on his arm, and she waved her other hand in the air, speaking animatedly.

  Harris squelched her irritation. Yeah. That was Turbo. A flirt. Who had said that they’d never met the woman he couldn’t charm? Well, she had a few things to say to him, and Mia could just get herself charmed some other time.

  She marched down the aisle like John Philip Sousa himself were beating a drum behind her.

  Remembering just in time to put a pleasant expression on her face—after all, she didn’t want one of the professionals to quit—Harris cleared her throat.

  Mia’s head jerked around, but Turbo didn’t look surprised at all, like he’d known exactly where she was.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Harris. I was just trying to talk Turbo into practicing the kissing scene.” She fluttered her lashes in his direction before continuing. “He said he’d go find me a frog.” She laughed again. “Isn’t he funny?”

  “Hilarious,” Harris said.

  Mia tapped his arm. “Don’t forget, I’m grabbing a cup of coffee at the diner. I’ll be looking for you to...hop in.” She grinned, and in Harris’s mind, her hand caressed Turbo’s bicep three seconds too long, before she fluttered her fingers and walked to her chair to gather up her things.

  Harris waited until the door closed behind Mia, using the time to gather her own things and make a couple of notes about what she thought they needed to work on.

  “You wanted to see me, Miss Winsted.” His voice came out low with just a hint of humor and defiance. It was also much closer than she expected.

  She whirled. He was right in front of her. His chest a wall. She tilted her head. “I thought you were here to help. I thought you understood how important this is. I thought you were going to leave your immature antics for some other time.”

  Turbo opened his mouth to say something, then he closed it, swallowing, and looked away.

  Good. He felt guilty for his childish and immature comments and actions tonight. But what really burned... Her mouth opened before she thought it through. “And if you’r
e going to flirt with my leading lady, do it on your own time. Not here.” There.

  She didn’t say he was a jerk for kissing her so sweetly last night then engaging in flirtatious laughter and meeting up with another woman tonight. But she wanted to.

  His mouth opened again, and his eyes narrowed.

  Harris braced herself, prepared for whatever smart comment he was going to come off with. He wasn’t going to charm her. He wasn’t going to ruin her play. And he didn’t get to make her half fall in love with him under the stars one night and then come into her play practice the next evening and flirt with some other woman. She refused.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She opened her mouth, ready to spew more at him. Her jaw hung there. “Huh?”

  “I’m sorry. I know how important this is. For you and for the kids at the hospital. I don’t want to ruin it.” His dark eyes were sincere. “You’re right, I did make some smart comments and disrupted your practice. I’ll try to do better. But I wasn’t flirting. She wanted to practice kissing, and I told her I’d get her a frog.”

  Harris crossed her arms over her chest. “And you’re going to deliver it to the diner?”

  “Never said I was going to the diner.”

  Harris raised her brows.

  “I was going home and figured I’d practice my lines some.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.

  Guilt tightened Harris’s throat. Why did she feel guilty?

  “I’ll help you.” She wanted to take her lips off and examine them. Where had that come from?

  “With my lines?”

  “Yes. I’ll come and help you with your lines.”

  Conflict raged across his face. “Nah. I’d better do it myself. Thanks anyway.”

  Harris’s heart wilted in her chest. He didn’t want her. She should have known, should have expected it. She’d tried to put distance between them, and she succeeded.

  “But if you want to watch the movie again, I’m up for it.” Some of his confident exterior had cracked, and the tilt of his eyes reflected his insecurity.