Sucker Punch (6 page)

I inched away, convinced that Colleen wouldn’t want me to hear their argument any more than I wanted to listen. Suddenly, the idea of staying long enough to meet Laurence Nichols didn’t sound nearly so appealing.

Doyle seemed oblivious to the audience he was drawing.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Kick me out. Make me look like some kind of lunatic, and you stay here with
Nichols
.” He spat out the name and his face contorted, as if it had left a bad taste in his mouth.

My feet stopped moving.
Colleen and Laurence Nichols?
Was he serious?

The sparks in Colleen’s eyes flashed again. “I mean it, Doyle. Either shut up, or leave. Go back to the Avalanche and polish off the gin. I’ll know where to find you when the meeting’s over.”

The noise level in the rehearsal hall rose by another decibel or two and some kind of activity broke out near the wall of posters. Grateful for the distraction, I turned to see what was going on. Colleen moved to stand beside me, wearing a look of grim determination, and a few seconds later I saw Doyle slinking out the door. Apparently, she’d won the argument—for now anyway.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said. “Doyle’s . . . well, he’s—”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, trying to spare both of us the discomfort. “Is everything all right now?”

She nodded and some of the tension seemed to leave her. Frankly, I thought she was either unbelievably naive or a master at self-deception. Pouring alcohol on top of Doyle’s suspicions wasn’t likely to make things between them any better. But her marriage wasn’t any of my business, and I was in no position to offer advice.

Just then, Vonetta clapped her hands and called out, “All right, everyone. Let’s get to work.”

Both Colleen and I turned toward her eagerly.

“I promised we’d be out of here by nine, and I intend to keep my word. Casting is nearly complete; I expect to fill the open roles by early next week. Those of you who have already been cast or assigned positions on the stage crew will stay in this room so Alexander and Laurence can run through a few things with you. Those of you who are here to audition will come with me into the auditorium. That should give the rest of you room to move around.”

A few people shifted closer to the door, ready to move on. Vonetta gave a few basic instructions about rehearsal schedules and explained where the call-board would be, reminding everyone to check it frequently. “I’m not going to hold your hands,” she said. “Don’t expect individual phone calls. It’s your responsibility to check the call-board and to know when you’re needed.”

Paisley held out a file folder, and Vonetta took it almost without looking. She spoke over her shoulder to Serena, who shrugged but stood and scowled down at her fingernails.

Serena had always seemed like a shadow of her mother, and apparently nothing had changed. Vonetta was the strong, vibrant one who commanded attention. Next to her, Serena seemed almost invisible. She’d been out on her own for two decades, yet here she was, melting into her mother’s shadow as if she’d never left.

“As most of you know,” Vonetta continued, “we have an impressive array of talent lined up for this play already, and our production team is top-notch. Colleen Brannigan will be our stage manager.”

As if Vonetta had thrown a switch, Colleen beamed and waved one hand over her head. Her smile might look genuine from a distance, but I was close enough to see how fake it was. A polite spattering of applause greeted her introduction, and even the most stubborn whispers finally died away.

Vonetta waited for the applause to fade before making her next introduction. “Alexander Pastorelli is someone I’m sure you all recognize. He’s the reason you’re here, and I’m delighted that he’s agreed to direct this play for us.”

Her introduction spawned another round of applause and even brought on a few cheers. His expression almost grim, Alexander turned toward the crowd and nodded, accepting the applause as his due.

“We’re so lucky to have this next man in the company,” Vonetta said when the noise quieted. “You all know and love him—the multitalented Laurence Nichols will be musical director.” For such a small crowd, the cheers that rose up were almost deafening. Vonetta held up both hands in an appeal for them to quiet down. “Please, people. Quiet, please.” When she could go on, she said, “Before I introduce him, I want to share an exciting piece of news. This morning, Laurence graciously offered to add four original pieces to the score. Some of you will have the honor of performing those pieces in public for the first time.”

Another roar went up from the crowd. I caught a glimpse of Richie, bouncing with excitement. Even Dylan looked interested. But what caught and held my attention was the look on Serena’s round face. She wasn’t looking at her mother, but at the man of the hour, Laurence Nichols himself. And the look on her face was one of pure, unadulterated hatred.

On the television screen, Laurence Nichols looks like he’s over six feet tall, well-built, with short dark hair and intense brown eyes. In person, he’s probably five nine and his dark hair is flecked with gray. Still, a good-looking guy, even if he is a little too thin for my taste.

He rose to his feet and bowed to the crowd. Even from a distance, charisma radiated from him. Most of the women and half the men in the room were immediately under his spell. Colleen was one of the few who seemed unaffected, but I wondered if her reaction was genuine, or if she’d just learned how to protect herself from her husband’s jealousy. Laurence might not be a Greek god, but it was easy to see why a squat little toad like Doyle Brannigan might feel threatened.

The crowd on the other side of the room shifted as people craned to see our resident superstar, and I caught a glimpse of Richie almost wetting his pants with excitement before he was swallowed up again. Vonetta beamed, obviously pleased by the reaction of the group. Alexander scowled, as if the rousing cheers annoyed him.

After the applause went on for a while, Vonetta held up both hands and called out, “Quiet everyone. Please. Settle down.”

While she waited for the applause to die away and the noise level to subside, Richie worked his way to the front of the room. At the same time, Dylan appeared at my side wearing a slight scowl on his handsome face.

“Well, there he is,” Dylan said with shake of his head. “Almost close enough to touch. The poor fool’s going to have his heart broken.”

“You can’t really think he’s interested in Laurence,” I said.

Dylan smiled ruefully. “Not in that way. But since he heard the very first rumor that Laurence Nichols might be coming to Paradise, he’s been reinventing himself. He’s managed to convince himself that being on stage is his life’s calling, and that Laurence is going to discover him while he’s here.”

“It could happen,” I said.

“Sure. If he could act.” Dylan looked away from Richie and smiled at me. “But if you ever tell him I said that, I’ll tell him what a horrible liar you are.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” I assured him. “I’d never get in the way of Richie’s fantasies.”

Dylan grinned. “Now
that’s
a friend.” He looked as if he intended to say more, but a loud bang cut him off and pulled my head around with a snap.

Laurence had moved from Vonetta’s side to the piano in the far corner, and his expression had gone from pleased to furious. “Where in the hell is it?” he demanded. Before anyone could answer, he whipped around and jabbed a finger at Serena. “You took it, didn’t you?”

I exchanged a glance with Dylan and inched a little closer—not that it was easy to do. Everyone in the room was trying to get close enough to see and hear everything they were saying.

Vonetta has always been like a mama bear when it comes to Serena, and tonight was no exception. She stepped in front of her daughter. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, but the reassuring tone of her voice didn’t match the hard glint of anger in her eyes. “Of course Serena didn’t take your music.”

“She was in here alone earlier,” Laurence accused. “I came in and found her snooping around my things.”

“I wasn’t snooping,” Serena snapped. “And I wasn’t alone. There was a stagehand in here with me almost the whole time.” She craned to look over the crowd and pointed toward a young man of about twenty-five. His thin blond hair was combed carefully forward in a David Beckham cut, but he seemed uncomfortable with all the sudden attention. “What’s your name?” she demanded.

“Jason. Dahl.”

“There you go,” Serena said, as if his name proved something. “Jason can tell you I didn’t steal your stupid music. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about it anyway. Unless you’re a complete idiot, you must have copies.”

Laurence shoved past Vonetta and grabbed Serena by the shoulders. Serena jerked away and gave him a look that would have frozen someone less angry. “Take your hands off me.”

A few people gasped at her audacity, but the rest of us could only stare at the drama unfolding in front of us. Why would Laurence accuse Serena, of all people, of taking his music? What possible reason could she have for doing that? For that matter, what possible reason could
anyone
have?

Vonetta asked something similar, and Laurence rounded on her as if she’d suggested that he’d stolen the music himself. Geoffrey Manwaring threw himself into the fray, and whatever Laurence said in reply got lost behind his bluster.

He clapped a hand on Laurence’s shoulder and murmured reassuringly. It was clear Manwaring was telling his client that everything was fine, Laurence was not to worry, that he—Geoffrey—would take care of everything.

With Laurence under control again, Vonetta put an arm around Serena’s shoulders and led her toward the door that opened into the shop area.

When they disappeared, Dylan let out a low whistle. “Well
that
was interesting.”

“To say the least,” I agreed.

“What do you think that was all about?”

I shrugged and pulled my gaze away from the door. “Which part? The music is missing part, or the Laurence accusing Serena part?”

“Oh. My. God.” Richie bounced to a stop in front of us, his eyes wide with excitement. “Can you believe what just happened?”

“I’d have to understand it to believe it,” Dylan said.

“We must have missed something,” I told Richie. “Why did Laurence accuse Serena of taking his music?”

“I don’t know. Nobody does.” Richie glanced over his shoulder to make sure nothing was happening without him. “Vonetta’s fit to be tied. I thought she was going to kill Laurence for accusing Serena, but then when Serena said that to Laurence . . .”

“It didn’t sound like Serena,” I mused. “Did it?”

Dylan shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t know her. I can’t say.”

“Vonetta’s
royally pissed
at her,” Richie said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “That’s all I know. And I can’t say I blame her. I mean, she almost single-handedly destroyed the whole production.”

I grabbed the hem of his sweater in an attempt to stop the bouncing. “I think that’s a bit harsh, don’t you? Things are bad enough. Let’s not make them worse by spreading all sorts of gossip.”

Richie scowled and the skin between his eyes formed an accordion wrinkle. “Well, ex-
cuse
me. I thought you’d
want
to know what was going on.”

He knew me too well. “I do,” I said, lowering my voice a notch. “I just don’t want to make things worse for Vonetta. There’s going to be enough speculation as it is.” For the first time in a while, I remembered Colleen and looked around to see where she’d gone. I found her standing a few feet away, watching Laurence closely and wearing a deep scowl. From where I stood, her expression looked a lot like jealousy. I had no idea whether she and Laurence were lovers, but I was pretty sure they were more than professional colleagues.

Vonetta reappeared in the doorway and waved Colleen over. She spoke briefly to her, punctuating the conversation with a gesture here, a nod toward Laurence or Alexander there, then disappeared again.

Colleen took charge at once. “All right people, calm down. We’ll sort out what happened to the sheet music, but in the meantime maybe we can convince Laurence to play something else for us. What do you say, Laurence? Will you play for us?”

For one fleeting second, Laurence’s displeasure showed clearly on his face. In the next moment, his professionalism took over and a broad smile replaced his irritation. He bowed deeply in Colleen’s direction and sat on the piano bench. Music we all recognized drifted into the room and the conversations around me hushed. One by one, people began to sing along. Those who didn’t sing stopped chattering to listen. Two young women battled for position beside the piano while he played, apparently hoping that he’d take notice of them. Nearby, a heavyset woman of about forty alternated between glaring at the two young hopefuls and gazing adoringly at the object of everyone’s desire.