Backstage (The Barter System Book 4) (5 page)

“You’re an idiot.  Make her yours.” 

Ezra’s expression blanked. “We’ll see what happens.  She’s the type of woman I could fall for, Isaiah. 
Really
fall for.  She’s got it all.” 

His voice was reflective and Isaiah wanted to push but didn’t.  It wasn’t the right time.

Something in the way he said it made Isaiah think his brother had already fallen for Madeline.  He wasn’t scarred like the fucking Phantom.  If he didn’t pursue her, he
would
lose her.

“I’ve watched Mikayla for
months
.  The thought of her looking at me with fear or disgust...I didn’t have it in me to see it.  Not from her.  After we talked about it, she didn’t even seem to
notice
the scar.”  He ran his hand over the destroyed half of his face.  His eyes closed as he remembered the way she touched him.  “She called me beautiful and told me to come find her after the show.”

“Will you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I…helped her.  I don’t want her to feel like she owes me anything.”

Ezra was quiet for a long time.  “That young woman, she’s been fixated on meeting you, talking to you for a while.  She sexually blew your mind, doesn’t notice the scar, and you’re going to let her get away?  Who’s the idiot?”  He put his hands on the control board with a shake of his head.  “Don’t make a choice you’ll regret.”  Inhaling deeply, he said, “Let’s help them take New York by storm.”

Isaiah nodded and did a radio check with his team. 

As was the Zelder brothers’ custom, the first week of shows every new season was used for local charities as a way for them to raise funds.  Their contacts in the world of substantial fortunes ensured that smaller charities received exposure to philanthropists with deep pockets. 

Discounted ticket prices gave everyone time to figure out any small changes they’d need to make before their full marketing press and opening night.  Dress rehearsals were good but
nothing
beat a live audience.

After he made sure each zone was covered, he uncapped a bottle of water and wondered at Theodora’s comment that Mikayla had looked blissful after her time with him. 

He’d give anything to make her his
.  To soak up the way she looked at
him…as if he was the man he used to be
. 

As the thought went through his mind, Isaiah quickly squashed it.  She wasn’t meant for him.  He would always be more comfortable in the shadows and she belonged in the spotlight.  He couldn’t bear the thought of her being with him out of pity or obligation.

The memory of having her in his arms would carry him through many lonely nights.

Chapter Four

Receiving the all clear from backstage, Ezra took the house lights down and brought the stage lights up.  The curtain slowly lifted and they took in the set with a critical eye.

Moments later, music began to play and Mikayla danced out on stage.  Every part of Isaiah felt lit from the inside out the second he saw her.  Other dancers moved around her but his eyes didn’t stray from the woman who’d made him remember what it was like to be a man for the first time in a very long time.

He knew within five minutes of their first performance in front of a live audience that the Johansson sisters were going to do it.  They were going to be NYC’s next big thing.  He was enthralled by Kayla’s every movement.

Not That Desperate
was a musical comedy about a young woman who’d grown bitter in regards to men.  When Ezra passed him the script, he’d found the writing highly intelligent and well written.  He’d laughed several times reading it. 

The acting and choreography were outstanding. 

Though the set and costumes had an Old World feel to them, the theme of the play was distinctly modern.  Ezra once remarked that it was Madeline’s way of thumbing her nose at “how far” women had supposedly come from their downtrodden history. 

The brothers had often discussed their respect for Madeline’s view of the world.  On the story board in her office was a message she’d written as a reminder to herself: 

“There is still much to be done before
equality
is reality.  We can’t rest on the accomplishments of the women who made the biggest strides…the right to vote, the right to work in the same fields as men, and so on.  Until
every
woman has absolute control over every aspect of her life, until
every
woman can walk safely through the world – free – equality is a fucking illusion.” 

Her play – while funny – spoke to the plights of women that weren’t newsworthy.  The daily grind of life that went unnoticed, accepted as the norm, generation after generation.

In the first act, Mikayla’s character is met by several men.  Each is a horrible representation of the male gender and their true colors are quickly revealed through assorted scenes of unfortunate hilarity.  A gambler, an adulterer, a bum with no plans to find work, and a bad-tempered man who attempts to slap her across the face and finds himself beaten on the floor. 

One by one is verbally thrashed by Mikayla amidst the cheers of the audience at her cleverness.  Dancing away after her experience with each, her growing anger and frustration is clear. 

Her first full musical number was a soulful tune about men being the bane of her existence.  The bluesy feel offset the hysterical lyrics punctuated by the laughter of the crowd. 

No matter how many times Isaiah had heard her sing it, it continued to make him smile. 

The second act built on the comedic element of the first, with Madeline in her role as a gypsy matchmaker, disguised in a full body suit, latex makeup, and gray-haired wig.  She played off Mikayla’s character flawlessly. 

Stepping out of her small home – the trailer that now resembled a gypsy cart from the Middle Ages – she started to bring her crystal ball, shrugged, and tossed it carelessly to her husband inside. 

The song the sisters sang together was a naughty limerick about finding the perfect man.  Several men in the theater groaned after particularly saucy lines. 

“One man who isn’t a loser…is that too much to ask?”

The gypsy grinned.  “Nah, there’s some good ones…you gotta be willing to sift through the recyclables though.”  Hands on her hips, she shook her head.  “The perfect man, per se, does not exist.  The perfect woman either but, eh, we tend to get closer to the mark.  However, you can
mold
one out of raw materials if he has good bones.  What you need is a fixer upper!”

“A fixer upper?”

“A man with some potential that you can train not to pee on the carpet or hump your guests’ legs.  You have to be willing to do the
work
, girl!”

“I am…I’m willing to do the work.  Where do we start?”

The old woman grabbed a passing man and circled him.  “Let’s see what we have here.  Check him out, honey.  Don’t be shy.  Even when you buy a horse to tow your cart, you want him to have some get up and go, if you know what I’m saying.”

“Um…not really.”

“Mental note to school you on owning your sass.”  She rubbed her hands together.  “Now, you’re not a bad-looking fellow but you seem a little slouchy.  Stand up straight, boy!  You have a possible female customer and you boys need to take that seriously.  As long as we control the hoo-ha, you need to put in a little effort!”

For almost a minute, they peppered him with questions and it was soon clear to the audience that he wasn’t very bright.  With a disgusted look on her face, the gypsy mumbled, “You gotta kiss him.”

“Ugh!  Why?” 

A quirk of the old woman’s brow and Mikayla kissed the prospect before pretending to gag.  Waving the guy away, the matchmaker sighed.  “I can work with a lot but a lack of chemistry is fatal.” 

After two failed attempts, they chose a man who seemed to fit the basic requirements.  Rushing him into the store, they worked together to give him an overhaul.  His clothes and hair received an update before they tutored him on proper manners and dancing. 

Their efforts were watched by the laughing audience through the large store window.  The three of them left the shop and Kayla walked around him with a critical eye. 

Shaking her head, she muttered, “I suppose he’ll have to do.”

“Girl, we settle.  You think I didn’t settle?” 

Pointing to her small trailer, she snapped her fingers.  The gypsy’s husband can be seen through the window.  He’s a pot-bellied man with an elaborate comb-over, reclined in a La-Z-Boy, and his eyes glued to a football game.  Unconcerned about anything happening around him, he wore baggy boxers and a stained t-shirt. 

When he released an impressive burp, the old woman’s face contorted in complete disgust.  “I run my business.  He scratches his balls.  Thank god he takes care of the horses because his days of taking care of
me
are long gone.” 

Obviously confused, Mikayla asked, “Why are you still with him?”

“Habit, child.  We get in them and that’s that.”

“I hope I never settle into a life of habit.  I want love and laughter.”

“It’s not so bad.  I’ve set up hundreds of couples and only a few have that extra
something
that makes them perfect for each other.  We do our time and try not to kill each other on bad days.”  She shrugged.  “For most, that’s enough.  Nobody likes to be alone.  Get a little house, have a couple kids, take a cruise on your anniversary.  What more can you ask for?”

“A whole lot…but I guess this is the best I’m going to get.”

“That’s the spirit!  It’s been a pleasure, dear.”  The matchmaker waddled away to her cart and yelled over her shoulder, “Give him hell!”

Mikayla and the man sang a song together.  It was an upbeat number where he professed that he would love and care for her, put her first, and always be the man she “fell in love” with. 

Coming to a complete stop in the dance, she replied deadpan, “I seriously doubt that but you give it your best shot.” 

He continued to tell her all the ways he was going to improve her life while they danced fast across the stage.  Then he spun her, dipped her low, and kissed her deeply. 

From his position in the lighting booth, Isaiah watched Mikayla flinch before she covered it. 

Standing her upright, he asked what
she
planned to do for
him
, since he promised
so much
.  She danced cheerfully and explained that she wouldn’t kill him in his sleep when his snoring kept her awake, would refrain from burning the dirty clothes he left on the floor, would stop herself from lacing his food with poison when he’s late without calling, and would leave him his masculinity when she did a better job of pleasing herself than he’s capable. 

He gave her a clueless shrug and accepted her terms, blatantly leering at her body and focused on only one thing.  Her dramatic eye roll and sigh of resignation highlighted her understanding that she knew exactly what she was getting.  They danced off the stage together and the audience clapped loudly. 

The third act took place several years into the couple’s future.  The backdrop was the home she made with the man she settled on.  The spotlight focused on Mikayla wearing an unattractive housedress as she stood over the stove with her hand on her hip. 

The home was neat, but she looked tired as ill-behaved children ran through the kitchen and her husband – now gone to fat – watched football, oblivious to everything around him. 

His deliberate ignorance and laziness fed her clear frustration.  A look of disgust crossed her face as he scratched his balls with deep concentration. 

Through her kitchen window, she noticed a deliveryman walk to the house next door to drop off a package.  The first song from the play drifted softly through her mind as she unashamedly admired the man’s body and energy. 

Without looking away from the television, her husband yelled across the house to ask when dinner would be ready. 

Mikayla closed her eyes, resting her palms on the counter, and said to herself, “I thought you’d help me…instead, you make things so much harder.  You’re nothing more than another chore to check off my endless task list.”

She sang about her need to be held by a man who truly cared about her pleasure, who appreciated how hard she worked in and out of her home, and wondered at her husband’s unwillingness, despite her efforts, to be such a man. 

“I need a partner…not a child.  If you’re not going to help me, I’ll do it my
damn
self.”

The sound of children fighting, the football game, and the phone ringing got louder and louder.  Throwing down her spoon, she turned off the oven, removed her apron, and stormed from the kitchen.  In front of him, she waited for him to acknowledge her. 

“I work all week just like you.  I still take care of the house, the kids, and the chores.  I don’t get to sit here watching television.” 

There was a slow nod of his head and he went back to watching the game.  Walking toward the bedroom, she started to unbutton her housedress. 

“I will not settle, not one more day.  I’d rather be alone than exist as a tourist in my own life.”  Without missing a beat, he asked her retreating back when dinner would be ready.  “Order take-out.”

The door slammed.  Less than a minute later, she emerged with her hair up, wearing a sexy red dress and killer heels.  After a comical double take, the husband adjusted his groin. 

“No, darling.  You have a date with the television.  I don’t need a man to pay my bills, fix my sink, or make me feel complete.  The only use I’ve found for them is to take me dancing and once in a while provide a fleeting orgasm.”

“Baby, I love you…”

“You love
yourself
more than you will ever love me and I’m done pretending that’s okay.  I’ll figure out the house and kids but you and me…we’re done.  I’m not settling one more day.  Not one.” 

He tried to respond but she hit him with a few more verbal digs and the audience laughed loudly. 

“I might not be perfect but I’m not wasting my time trying to make something out of nothing.  Later.”