The Final Act Page 4

  Michael gave a grunt, surely picked up by his body mic, as he landed on her. The small sound was unbelievably sexy. His mouth moved against hers, kissing her hard and deep and with tongue. Every rehearsal they kissed as if they were desperate for each other.

  One of her hands twisted in his hair, the other clutched his shoulder. The mattress was hard against her back. Michael’s body was even harder against her front. His lips were warm and soft and his tongue tasted like mint. Arousal swelled in her, and Elena couldn’t suppress a soft moan of pleasure.

  Finally, Michael pulled away with an audible gasp, pushing up on his arms and gazing down at her for a moment. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside, revealing muscled shoulders, arms and chest. The spotlights faded and a blue backlight came up behind them, silhouetting his body as he slowly descended to kiss her.

  She arched her back off the bed to make sure her figure was clear against the light. Pender was very definite about the look he wanted, and it wasn’t that easy to achieve. They’d rehearsed this movement many times.

  Elena’s hands slid up Michael’s lightly haired chest. Their lips met. They held the pose for an extended moment. Elena felt the weight and heat of his erection through her clothes. Her pussy dampened in response.

  The stage went dark. Michael rolled off the bed, took her hand and helped her up. They exited the stage, rushing to change for the next scene.

  Elena thought of the hundreds of times they would have to repeat their lovemaking performance and wondered how many times it would take before it stopped leaving her with her heart racing and her sex clenched tight with need.

  Scene Two: After Hours

  The restaurant Logan had found was a family-run Italian place with stained, red-check tablecloths and the best lasagna Michael had ever tasted. Or maybe it was just that he was starving from burning off calories at dance practice earlier in the day. He packed away the carbs and polished off most of a bottle of wine singlehandedly.

  When the meal was finished, the party reconvened at a nearby bar. Michael paid for the first round of drinks. It felt good to have a steady paycheck. Growing up he’d never lacked the money to do or have anything he wanted: a dirt bike, scuba lessons, ski trips. It had been a hard adjustment living on minimum wage in New York City, but he’d never asked his parents for a dime, even when he lost the lease on his apartment and had to squat with one friend or another for several months.

  Michael supposed his father thought poverty would be a character-building experience that would bring his pampered son back in line and into the family business. Instead, Michael had grown more determined than ever to pursue the career he’d chosen and to depend only on himself.

  Looking at his new co-workers, laughing and talking around the table, Michael was satisfied to finally see his efforts paying off. He was right where he wanted to be. But no matter how successful he might ever become as an actor, he’d always be a college dropout and disappointment to his father. He’d have to accept the fact or else drive himself crazy.

  Michael looked at Elena sitting beside him, talking to Trinka on her right. Her curly, black hair was pushed back behind her ear, revealing a gold hoop earring and the elegant line of her neck. Her white tank top made a sharp contrast to her tan back and naked shoulder. Michael wanted to lean in and kiss the soft hollow where her neck met her shoulder or maybe nibble the taut tendon in her neck or tongue her earring, making it sway.

  He hoped he’d managed to take the chair beside hers without seeming too obvious about it. This little obsession of his had to end. It was juvenile and unprofessional, to want a woman so badly simply because they played lovers and had to kiss all the time. He dragged his gaze from her smooth, bare flesh and took a long pull of his beer.

  Logan and Bill were in the back room of the bar shooting pool. Denny, Elena, Gretchen, Trinka and Chris from the chorus sat around the table covered with drinks and empty glasses—the waitress not being too particular about clearing up after every round.

  “All right, I have a ‘get to know each other’ game we can play,” Gretchen announced.

  Everyone groaned. Gretchen seemed to be under the delusion they were at a perpetual summer camp. She always came up with some game that suggested she’d spent too many years in Girl Scouts.

  “No. Listen. It’s fun and revealing.” She waved her hand to shush them. “Everyone has to tell an embarrassing experience from his or her past, and not something everyone does like walking into the wrong restroom. It has to be specifically and personally humiliating.”

  “That’s fun?” Chris flipped a quarter, trying to make it land in his empty beer mug, but it hit the side and rolled across the tabletop. “Sounds painful.”

  “I’ll start,” Gretchen said. “Okay. Once when I was about six, I went to a playland for some kid’s birthday. I was playing in the ball crawl, you know all the colored balls that little kids can swim in. I had to pee really bad, but I didn’t want to quit playing.”

  Several people nodded or smiled as though remembering a similar childhood experience.

  “Well, you can guess what happened. I accidentally wet my pants and I was too embarrassed to come out of the balls. Finally my mom had to wade in and get me.”

  “I thought it was supposed to be a life-altering humiliation,” Trinka said. “That’s nothing. Try being caught by Sister Grace Ricardo with Billy Drogan’s hand underneath your sweater squeezing your tits in the back of the bus on an eighth grade field trip. Now that’s embarrassing.”

  “Oh. Me, too!” Denny’s hand shot up. “Only it was Dan Becker’s hand down my pants on a high school field trip to Washington D.C. And the teacher, Mr. Vogel, tried to pretend he didn’t see it.”

  Gretchen turned to Elena. “What does Elena have for us?”

  “Embarrassing, huh?” Elena shifted in her chair. Michael was interested in what memory she’d offer. He didn’t think she was the type to easily laugh at herself.

  “Okay. There was this talent show in sixth grade. My friends and I decided to do a skit that seemed really hilarious when we thought it up. But we only had one practice. Whenever we got together, everyone wanted to mess around instead of work. Nobody learned their lines but me and when we got out there in front of the audience, it was a disaster. I was humiliated and furious with my friends.”

  Michael grinned, imagining uptight little Elena in pigtails trying to get her friends to toe the line.

  “Is there a hidden message for us, Miss Diva?” Chris spun a quarter on the table with a flick of his fingers. “Are we not performing up to your standards?”

  “What? No. Of course I didn’t mean that! And I’m not a diva.” Elena looked around at the group. “Am I? Oh my God, tell me I’m not like that.”

  Michael leaned close to her and lowered his voice confidentially. “He’s teasing. You may be a little bossy, but you’re not a diva. Relax.”

  She turned toward him. “All right, Michael. Let’s hear your story.” She cocked her head. “No. Wait. I’m sure you never had an embarrassing moment in your life. You’re too cool for that.”

  Michael thought a moment. “Well, there was this one time when I was like six or seven. I was at T-ball practice and my mom and our au pair, Marie, each thought the other was picking me up. I was totally embarrassed when all the other kids were already gone and no one came for me. I decided to start walking. Don’t ask me how the coach didn’t notice me leaving. After about three blocks, I realized I didn’t actually know how to get home.”

  “Poor little kid, you must have been scared,” Gretchen said. “What’d you do?”

  “Found a pay phone and called 911.” Laughter greeted his statement. “I would’ve called a cab, but I didn’t know how. So I told the dispatcher I needed a ride home and to please send a car around for me.”

  “Ballsy,” Chris said.

  “I’d seen people call for cabs and limos all my life. It seemed like the sensible thing to do.”

  “Limos and au
pairs?” Trinka raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re slumming here with us.”

  “Did they send someone?” Elena asked.

  Michael nodded. “A cop gave me a ride home. After my mom thanked him and sent him away, she yelled at me. She was furious I’d made a scene, having a police car pull up in front of our house. She also fired poor Marie and blasted the coach for letting it happen.”

  “That’s twisted,” Trinka said.

  He smiled. “Yeah, my mom’s more than a little hung up on appearances.” Michael suddenly realized no one seemed to find the humor in it but him.

  “Wow, that kind of steals my thunder,” Chris said, flipping the quarter and catching it on the back of his hand. “I was just going to tell about the time I walked in on my grandma getting out of the shower all wrinkled and naked. Ugh! I was mortified enough for both of us.”

  His story broke the tension Michael had unintentionally caused with his tale. Everyone laughed.

  “What? What’d we miss?” Bill asked as he and Logan joined them.

  “Embarrassing moment from your past,” Denny answered succinctly.

  “Easy. A brief, and I emphasize brief, bout of impotence a couple of years ago,” Bill said. “But I worked through some stuff with my therapist and it hasn’t been a problem since.”

  Logan stared at him. “TMI, Bill.”

  “What about you, Logan?” Gretchen asked. “I imagine you’ve done tons of embarrassing things in your life.”

  Irrepressible Logan grinned. He was their class clown, the polar opposite of the serious, intense fanatic he played in the show. “Well, Gretch, I’d agree with you, if I was capable of feeling embarrassment, but I’m not.”

  “I believe that about you,” Gretchen said. “I’ve never met anyone more comfortable in his own skin.”

  “Or so self-involved he doesn’t know when he’s being socially obnoxious,” Chris added as he flagged down the waitress to order another round.

  The banter continued. Side conversations and memories of other shows or friends and family sprang up around the table. Michael sipped his drink and listened, content to remain quiet yet part of the group.

  He also took the opportunity to watch Elena, deep in conversation with Denny about a class they’d once taken together. She was such an intense little thing. Her slender body and big, dark eyes broadcasted vulnerability on stage, but Elena’s true nature was strong and forceful. He admired her forthrightness; the way she didn’t fear saying exactly what she meant. Honesty had been in short supply in his family. But he didn’t let her know he admired her. Instead he baited and teased her like a schoolboy pulling pigtails just to enjoy a display of her fiery temper.

  The bedroom scene had gone really well during rehearsal, and Pender had praised them for the change. Michael had winked at Elena, gratified to see her lips tighten in annoyance. Her irritation was like catnip, making him want to goad her more, and there was an undeniable element of foreplay involved.

  Michael had been the romantic lead in productions before without falling for his co-star. Delivering a stage kiss wasn’t like the real thing. But Michael was increasingly having trouble separating fact from fiction during his romantic scenes with Elena. It bothered him that he couldn’t control his emotions.

  “Michael!”

  “Huh?” Michael dragged his attention from Elena’s lips to turn to Bill, sitting on his left. He caught Denny’s eye in passing.

  Denny smiled knowingly. Michael ignored him and responded to Bill. “What?”

  Bill had a long, involved question about actor’s equity that Michael didn’t know the answer to and could care less about. As the man droned on, Michael nodded, but his mind was back on Elena. There was a long run ahead of them. Getting involved with her was a big mistake. He should be completely focused on the looming opening of the show, but he couldn’t help admiring how her ass swayed as she walked across the bar toward the restroom with the other women.

  “Is this going to happen or what? I’m getting bored waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Trinka leaned toward the grainy mirror over the sink to apply fresh lipstick.

  Elena walked out of the stall, adjusting her skirt. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know.” Gretchen caught Elena’s eye in the mirror and winked, waiting for her denial. She loved teasing her about Michael.

  “No, I don’t.” Elena turned on the water and washed her hands.

  “You and Michael,” Gretchen said. “When you’re not taking shots at each other, you’re sneaking looks. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife.”

  “Oh my God, are we in middle school? Please! There is absolutely nothing going on between us and never will be. You’ll have to look somewhere else for your soap opera entertainment.”

  “Riiight,” Trinka drawled.

  “Can’t we find something more mature to discuss than who likes who or who’s mad at each other? I’m sick of all the gossip.” Elena slapped off the tap and dried her hands.

  “We could, but it wouldn’t be nearly as interesting talking about presidential policy.” Gretchen laughed. “Come on, Elena, throw us a scrap. We’re living vicariously through you.”

  “God knows my sex life’s been crap since we started this gig.” Trinka put her lipstick in her purse. “I haven’t been without for this many weeks since I was in high school. I’m desperate enough to fuck some random, or even Bill.”

  Trinka always shocked Gretchen a little, making her feel unsophisticated and naive. All the other cast members had much more life experience than Gretchen, and although she tried to act confident, the first time she’d shared an onstage kiss with Trinka, she’d felt strange and uncomfortable. She wasn’t hip enough to be blasé about kissing a woman. But she hadn’t pursued acting to stay in her comfort zone, and with repetition she’d moved past her initial awkwardness. Still, Trinka’s bluntness about sex took her by surprise sometimes.

  The three women emerged from the restroom, and Trinka grabbed Gretchen’s arm. “The pit’s here. How do I look? I want to get me some of that drummer, Rashid.”

  Gretchen looked up to see a few members of the band sitting at a nearby table. In addition to Rashid, there was Jake, the lead guitarist, and the bass player, Steve. Gretchen hadn’t really talked to any of them, despite the fact they’d worked together for six weeks.

  “You guys have to come with. I need wing women,” Trinka ordered.

  “Not me,” Elena said. “I’m exhausted. I’m going back to the motel soon.”

  Trinka held Gretchen’s arm. “You then. You have to come with me.”

  “I, uh…”

  Trinka dragged her toward the trio of musicians. “Hey, guys. How’s it goin’?”

  “Another night, another bar.” Steve pulled an extra chair over to the table so both women could be seated.

  Trinka sat between Steve and Rashid, Gretchen next to the quiet guitar player, Jake. She tried to think of something to say to him.

  Trinka went straight into flirtation mode, working both Steve and Rashid, sipping Steve’s drink and laying a hand on Rashid’s arm as she laughed at something he’d said.

  Gretchen wished she were sitting with the people she knew. But her mother had brought her up to be polite and friendly to everyone, so she smiled at Jake.

  “Hi. I don’t think we’ve officially met yet. Gretchen Hamilton.” She held out her hand.

  Jake stared at it a moment before taking it. “Jake.” His voice was so quiet that Gretchen strained to hear it over Trinka’s loud laughter.

  She leaned toward him. “Just ‘Jake’ like a rock star, or do you have a last name?”

  He released her hand and raised his gaze to her face. “Jake Bosch.” His eyes were a translucent gray-green. The slight droop of his eyelids and tilt of his brows gave him a perpetually sad and sleepy look. His face was all angles with a sharp blade of a nose and thin-lipped mouth. Jake reminded Gretchen of a stray dog she’d once brought home, rangy and hungry-looking wit
h deeply soulful eyes.

  Her stomach fluttered. She was a sucker for sad eyes and strays.

  Jake didn’t add anything else, so Gretchen filled in the silence. “Do you think we’re ready for opening night? I can’t believe it’s only a couple of weeks away.”

  “Yeah. The show’s good. It’s ready.”

  “I’m still stumbling over my one and only dance number. I never took lessons and it’s pretty obvious I wasn’t given the part for my dance skills.” The realization that she’d soon be performing in front of an audience suddenly struck her, and her stomach leaped in a not so pleasant way. “Jeez, I’d almost forgotten why we’re rehearsing. It feels like we’ll go on like this forever—just practicing, you know? I hope people like the show.”

  He offered a small smile. “They will. Don’t worry. You’re doing great.”

  “Really?” She lowered her voice. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong here. Everybody else has so much more experience. Am I really okay?”

  “You’re amazing.” His heavy-lidded gaze and husky voice sent a pulse of excitement through her. She didn’t think Jake was intentionally acting sexy—he just was. He exuded a quiet magnetism and an air of mystery, hinting at layers to be peeled away.

  “Thanks. You, too. I mean, the band is so talented and your solos are fantastic.”

  He smiled and looked down at his drink.

  Jake’s silence compelled Gretchen to talk. She found herself babbling and sharing much more than she meant to.

  “To tell the truth, I’m a lot more nervous than I let on. It’s all so new and different, living in a strange city with a whole new life. I’ve hardly ever been away from Chesterton before this. Here I’ve managed to land the greatest job in the world, but I don’t know if I can handle it. What if I totally blow it on opening night? Forget all my lines or freeze up and can’t sing? I have nightmares about it. Plus I really miss my family.” She laughed ruefully. “Anxiety, I guess. I’m sure I’ll get over it.”