His Fair Lady (16 page)

“Did she?” Mark laughed, but there was zero humor in it. “Don’t forget, dude, Vi’s an actress.”

Without waiting for Masterson’s reaction, Mark jerked open the door and walked out. He was going to find Vi and put a stop to these rumors.

* * * *

When Mark got to the theater, rehearsal was already underway. Josie and Vi were on stage. They weren’t doing anything, only standing around while the light tech, a skinny nerd named Byron dangled high above their heads. The focus moved abruptly from Josie, wavered then came to rest on Vi.

“How’s that?” Byron called.

“I think that’s worse,” Kierra said. “Put it back the way it was before, please.”

Both girls looked bored and hot and like they’d rather be anywhere else doing anything else. But that was tech week, lots of standing around while scenes and lighting and costumes and blocking were tweaked and occasionally entirely revamped.

Mark moved as inconspicuously as possible down the side aisle. He’d nearly made it to the stairs that would take him backstage when Nino, the stage manager who doubled as AD turned and pinned him like a bug on a piece of cardboard with a loud
psst.

Mark glanced over at him with his best who-me? face.

“You’re late, Henry,” the AD murmured.

No shit, Sherlock.

Mark nodded. “Sorry.”

“Get. On. Stage. Right. Effing. Now.” He pitched his voice low. Of course everyone in the theater heard, just as he’d meant them to.

A chorus of “Ooo” and “You’re in trouble now” followed Mark backstage where he dropped his jacket and bag before strolling on stage. Lucky tonight was a pure tech rehearsal and he didn’t need time for a costume change. Of course, if he had, they would just have to wait.

Fuck Nino. Fuck them all. Fuck this whole fucking show. His mood was foul, and he didn’t give a shit. They could all kiss his ass.

Standing on stage, broiling under the light and bored out of his mind, did nothing to improve Mark’s mood. He could feel Vi’s gaze focused like a laser on him. She must be wondering if Masterson had talked to him yet.

Mark deliberately avoided looking at her. Instead he watched Josie, scrutinized her even, and hated himself for doing it. But as hard as he looked, he saw nothing in the least masculine in either her appearance or manner. Sure she was tall, but a lot of girls were tall. Maybe her shoulders were a little broader than, say, Vi’s, but Vi was tiny. And plenty of girls had broad shoulders, especially if they were athletic. Her face, her body, her movements, all appeared endearingly familiar and totally feminine.

Vi and her mystery informer were full of shit. And Mark was going to tell her so in no uncertain terms just as soon as they got off the stage and he could get five minutes alone with her.

But for the next three hours, getting a moment with either Vi or Josie proved a monumental task, easier decided on than realized. Either they were both on stage, which made conversation impossible, or they were both off stage and she was nowhere to be found. When at last Kierra called for a break so the actors could get in costume, it was Josie who approached him, following him from the stage while Vi hurried up the center aisle and slipped out the back of the theater, a cell phone pressed to her ear.

“Hey, where were you? I sent you a text when I was almost on campus. I thought we could walk over here together. But you didn’t answer.” She smiled wearily and wiped sweat from her face.

She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

“I was in the library, and my phone was turned off.”

It was the first lie he’d ever told her, and it made him sick. Especially when she nodded, accepting it without question.

His feet were killing him, and he shifted from foot to foot. Where the hell was Vi, and what was she doing out there? If she didn’t return soon, he would have to go get into his costume, and the opportunity would be lost.

Nino clapped his hands like a kindergarten teacher. “Okay, people, let’s step it up. Get those costumes on. We’ve got a lot to get through tonight. Where’s Vi?”

“I’m right here. Sorry, I had to call my mom back. She called like three times while my phone was off.” She hurried down front and disappeared backstage.

Once they had all got their costumes on and returned to the stage, Kierra called for action, and everybody got back to work.

They started from the top, running through each scene with lighting, costumes, scenery, and props. They sang every song, danced every danced. By the time they got to “The Rain in Spain,” Mark’s frustration level was off the chart.

“The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain.” Josie gazed earnestly into Mark’s eyes.

“In Hertford, Hereford, and Hampshire,” Mark prompted.

“Hurricanes hardly happen.” She smiled sweetly up at him.

He returned the smile, though it felt more like a grimace, then crossed to the xylophone. He tapped out eight notes.

“How kind of you to let me come,” Josie enunciated.

If only, Mark thought. He plunked down the mallet and turned back to face her as the music began.

They launched into the song, normally one of Mark’s favorites. Not only was it fun and upbeat, but he also got to tango with Josie, and that was just plain fun. Usually. But tonight his fun quotient was just not up to its customary level.

The fates must have sensed it too, because no sooner had they begun but Josie stopped and pulled free of his arms. She stared down at herself, a frown creasing her brow.

“What’s the matter, Eliza?” Kierra stood and walked from her seat in the front row to the foot of the steps. She motioned for quiet, and the music halted on a few discordant notes.

“I think Mark stepped on my skirt?” Josie’s tone rose at the end of the sentence, and she glanced at Mark.

“No, I didn’t,” Mark said, more sharply than he’d intended.

“Maybe I stepped on it, then.” She held the fabric out. It was torn away from the waistband, and the hem trailed on the stage.

Kierra sighed loudly. “It doesn’t matter how it happened. Costume!”

There was a long pause.

“Coming,” a disembodied voice floated from backstage. From behind the curtain popped a short round girl with green hair and about a million freckles.

“Serina, where’s Franny?” Kierra asked.

“She’s got a paper due tomorrow, so…”

Kierra frowned. “Tell her I want to see her before tomorrow night’s rehearsal, will you?”

“Sure. She said to tell you she’s really sorry.” Serina crossed the stage to Josie, grabbed a handful of her skirt, and examined the tear with what appeared to be expertise.

As Serina hustled Josie offstage, Kierra looked at her watch. “All right, it’s getting late. The rest of you can go. But let’s start an hour earlier tomorrow night. We didn’t get nearly as far as we should have tonight.”

A few good-natured groans mixed with the murmur of assent as people disbursed to the dressing rooms.

Mark loitered, briefly undecided. He did not want to miss Vi, but he had to change. He executed what might have been the quickest change in theater history, then returned to the theater to wait for Vi.

People drifted out in twos and threes. They chatted quietly, gathered up bags, books, and laptops, zipped jackets, and turned on cell phones.

At last Vi emerged, dressed in her regular clothes and followed closely by Brie, her roommate and nearly constant companion.

Mark walked up to them. “Can I talk to you, Vi?”

“Hi to you too,” Brie said. She nudged Vi, and a look passed between them. It was a we-have-a-secret look, and Mark didn’t like it at all.

“I’ll see you back there,” Vi said as Brie left them. She turned to Mark. “What’s up, ‘Enry?”

Mark glanced around. Most of the cast and crew were gone, but they’d be wanting to lock up soon, and he didn’t want any interruptions.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“It’s kind of late, isn’t it?” She smiled. “Want to get me alone, do you?”

“Not really. What’s the matter? Masterson not enough for you?”

She didn’t even wince, just gave a little one-shoulder shrug. “I guess Dave talked to you. Is that why you’ve been glaring at me all night?”

“I don’t care who you fuck, Vi.” Mark stomped up the center aisle and pushed open the door.

“You don’t have to be nasty. I was doing you a favor.” She followed him outside, then fell into step beside him on the path.

“By sucking Masterson’s cock? Hardly.”

She stopped dead. “I did not! Is that what he said?”

Mark had gone on a few paces before he realized she wasn’t moving. He turned. “No, that isn’t what he said. Christ! You’re a real piece of work. It’s all about you, isn’t it? Everything’s all about Vi, and screw everybody else.”

“Hardly.” Vi dropped her voice into an unnaturally low register, mocking him.

“Yes, you are. You’re so all about yourself—”

“What’s the matter, Mark? Nobody sucking your cock these days? That’s kind of a surprise. I would have thought Josie would know just what she was doing, since she’s got one herself.”

Always a master of the perfect exit line, Vi turned. But before she took even one step, Mark caught her arm and spun her around. He leaned in close, kissing distance.

“Who told you that about Josie?”

She planted a hand in the center of his chest and shoved. “That is strictly need-to-know, and you do not need to know.”

He grabbed her wrist. “You tell me, Vi, or I’ll—”

She yanked her arm free. “Don’t you bully me. I did you a favor letting you know what people are saying about you and your girlfriend.”

She drew air quotes around the word girlfriend.

“What do you mean what they’re saying? What else are they saying?”

“They’re saying you like dick. That you’re gay, and you don’t want anybody to know, and that’s why you’re dating a tranny. You know somebody even asked Brie if I was a tranny? When she told me, we sort of laughed about it, but still I was like eeewww.”

People were saying he was gay, that he was dating a transgirl because he liked cock. Mark felt numb, all his anger gone in an instant, leaving him feeling like Vi had hit him over the head with a two-by-four.

“Mark? What’s the matter?” She caught his hand in hers.

“Nothing. I have to go.” He shook her off, turned, and walked away.

“You’re not, are you? Mark?”

He ignored her. He had to think, and he needed some place quiet to do it. Then he would have to talk to Josie.

Chapter Twelve

Josie lay on her back and gazed up at the ceiling of her bedroom. The previous tenant had stuck little glow-in-the-dark stars up there, and she counted them now while she waited for sleep.

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen…

The doorbell rang. She jumped, startled by the loud buzzer in the quiet apartment.

Who could be ringing the doorbell at this hour?

Then she remembered. Kyle was out with a new guy tonight. She hadn’t expected him to come home, not before morning. Obviously the date hadn’t gone so well, and apparently he had forgotten his keys.

Josie threw back the covers and swung her legs out of bed. Her bare feet hit the floor, and she shivered. The calendar might say it was spring, but it sure didn’t feel like it in this apartment. She took her fleece bathrobe off the hook on the closet door and shrugged it on. She tied the belt as she padded down the hall and through the living room. She reached for the buzzer that would unlock the door downstairs but didn’t press it. Her hand hovered just above the button.

What if it wasn’t Kyle? And come to think of it, if he forgot his keys, how could he have driven home?

She crossed to the living room window, twitched aside the curtain, and looked out. Kyle’s car wasn’t in its usual spot at the curb. There was a car there, but she didn’t recognize it in the dark. She let the curtain fall back.

As she stood in the middle of the room trying to decide what to do, she heard the silvery run of notes that meant she had a text. Going quickly to the bedroom, she found her phone and pressed the Unlock button. The text was from Mark.

Need 2 tlk 2 u

She texted back.

Where r u?

A moment later, her phone trilled again.

On your porch. Let me in?

Josie went to the buzzer and pressed the button. Distantly she heard the front door buzz, then stop, followed by footsteps mounting the stairs. Her belly fluttered with nerves. Her boyfriend was here. Her. Boyfriend.

When she’d come out of rehearsal after getting her costume repaired, she’d looked for Mark. But everyone was gone. She’d been a little disappointed he hadn’t waited for her. But it was late, and they were all tired. She figured he’d gone back to his dorm and was probably sound asleep by then.

But now here he was at her door. At two fifteen in the morning,

A frisson of worry tried to niggle its way under her anticipation. She shoved it away. She was being silly.

Josie opened the apartment door and stepped onto the landing. From where she stood, she saw him turn at the second floor and start up the last flight of stairs.

“Hey, isn’t it kind of late?”

He looked up. A dim glow spilled from the open door behind her and illuminated his face. His expression told her she wasn’t being silly. There was definitely something going on.

“Mark, what’s wrong?” She stepped forward and reached for him, wanting to comfort and soothe away the anger and hurt shimmering all around him.

Mark reached the landing, but, rather than moving into her arms, he sidestepped her embrace, leaving as much space between them as the tiny landing would allow.

“Sorry it’s so late, but I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Josie hugged herself. All of a sudden she felt unbearably cold despite her heavy robe. “What about?”

“Can I come in?”

A sudden crazy impulse to run into the apartment and slam the door struck her. Or simply clap her hands over her ears and go
lalalalalala
as loud as she could, anything so she wouldn’t have to hear what he was about to say. She wouldn’t do either one, of course.

She said nothing, only stepped back and let him pass before she closed the door. All at once the living room felt very small. A dim glow from the streetlight penetrated the filmy curtains, and inside the little lamp with blue-and-red glass shade sent jewels of colored lights shimmering across the tabletop.