A Midsummer Night's Fling (Stage Kiss Series Book 1) (36 page)

Opening night of
R&J
, he'd looked up at her in the Juliet costume – this filmy white nightgown thing – her hair tumbling in dark waves, her eyes smoky with stage make up, her soft lips bright, bright red. He'd looked up at her, beautiful, radiant, talented, and he'd realized she was
his
. He got to kiss her, hold her, have her even after the curtain fell.
His
. He'd had a difficult time continuing the scene after that, remembering his lines, his cues, his
name
.
 

Somehow, with her hand so firmly clasped in his, he found visiting the school much easier this time. "Do you remember what the first thing you ever said to me was?" he asked.

"Um . . . 'Hello'?"

"Nope." He stopped dead center stage and held both her hands in his, swinging their arms back and forth. "The first thing you ever said to me was, and I quote verbatim, 'Do you know where the bathroom is?'"

"Not true!" Her mouth fell open and she poked him in the gut.
 

"Yup. I knew I had to have you right then. For such is the stuff great romances are built on." He caught her hand, grinning, feeling bouncy with a strange delight.
 

"'Where's the bathroom.'" She scoffed and shook her head. "Shakespeare's got nuthin' on me for love poetry."

"Max! There you are!" Tierney came bustling from backstage. "I need you
now
, Max. Hi, Nicola. Mom is with the others in the big dressing room. Max, Lachlan's already here putting on his armor."

Lachlan. Shit.
Max's good mood dissipated with a
pop
he could practically hear. He had been able to forget about Lachlan for exactly one minute. Max started toward Tierney, but Nicola hung onto his arm. He turned back. "Nic?"

"Don't beat Lachlan up."

He huffed out a laugh and kissed her knuckles. "I make no promises."

"Max – "

"
Max
." Tierney jerked her thumb toward the dressing rooms, bouncing on her feet with nervous energy.

"Gotta go." He dropped Nicola's hand and jogged into the dressing rooms.

***

Feeling uneasy, Nicola watched Max leave.
Let this go
. She'd driven herself crazy when she was younger trying to control him, make him do what she wanted how she wanted. That way lay madness. And broken hearts.
 

Before heading into the wings she paused and stood alone on the old stage. She closed her eyes and breathed it in, trying to center herself, to push away the gnawing anxiety inside her.

Her phone chimed in her purse.
So much for serenity
. . . She sighed and pulled her cell out. Two text messages. One received last night from her agent Willa:
Nicola, I need your answer on Anything Goes
.
 

She clicked past Willa's text onto the next message, which was from Cassie. Nicola didn't have the mental energy for the
Anything Goes
decision right now.

Cassie's text was fairly run of the mill:
Hey hon haven't heard from you in awhile. How's things? How's Max? ;P

Nicola wrote,
We're officially having a fling. Lol. I'll give you the deets later. But what about you and Lach, Miss Thing? Was last night fun?

Nicola dropped her phone in her purse and started toward the dressing room.
Once more unto the
– Her phone chimed.
Crap
. It might be Willa, and she really shouldn't dodge her agent.
 

But it was another text from Cassie:
What?

WHAT what?
Nicola wrote back.

What were you talking about before w/ me and lach?
Cassie wrote.
Last nite? i didn't see him last nite. haven't talked to him in weeks. tho if he wanted another roll in the hay i wouldn't be opposed to it.

Nicola frowned at her phone.
What the heck?
She typed,
Lach said you and he were together last nite
.

WTF?
Cassie wrote.
We weren't. Weird
.

"Nicola?"

She glanced up. Violet, the
Midsummer
stage manager, stood in the doorway to the backstage area. "Tierney told me you were here," Violet said. "Isabelle wants you in the dressing rooms."

"Sure. Of course." As she followed Violet backstage, she typed,
Cass, I gotta go. I'll let you know if I figure out what's up with Lach.

K
.

Nicola frowned at her phone one more time then turned the ringer off and shoved it into her purse.
Why would Lachlan lie about being with Cassie last night?

***

Tierney, like a stagecoach driver urging her horse on, slapped Max's shoulder as he passed her and gave him an extra push down the stairs to the dressing rooms. "Mom wants to open the presentation with you and Lach's fight."

"Great." He could have used some time for his stomach to settle, his blood to stop boiling.
 

She scurried backstage ahead of him and along the hallway which separated the girl's dressing room from the smaller boy's dressing room, which was near the street-side door. Convenient for smoking. He wondered if Tierney had chosen where she wanted to set up shop.
 

"You remember the choreography, right?" she asked. "The lines?"

"Yes. Yes."

She frowned at him over her shoulder. "You all right?"

He gritted his teeth. "
Yes
."

She blinked. "I'm convinced." She smacked her hand flat against the swinging door of the dressing room and pushed inside. "Lachlan, your scene partner is here."

"Oh good," was Lachlan's unenthusiastic reply. He was applying stage make up and already half in costume – a leather kilt and boots with metal leg guards, a plain white t-shirt on top. The rest of his costume, a leathern jerkin and more chain mail, hung from one of the hooks on the wall. Two stage swords were laid out together on one of the two musty, brown plaid couches in the room.
 

Max eyed the couches and grimaced. "They still have these? Man, those things were old when
I
went here."

"Oh yeah. You and Nic went to school here, huh?" Tierney was bustling about, removing his costume from the various garment bags and plastic tubs she'd brought with her.

"Good ol' La Voy High," Lachlan muttered in a dopey American accent as he applied his eyeliner.

"It's pronounced La Vwaw," Max said. "Like 'raw.' It's French."

Lachlan dropped his eyeliner onto the counter and sent Max a chill stare in the mirror. In what sounded like perfect French, Lachlan snarled out, "Oui, bien sur. Incroyable! Tu es vraiment bête."

Max clenched his hands into fists. "Oh, bite me you British prick." Why wait for the stage fight? Max was ready to take Lachlan's head off now.
What is Lachlan's problem?
Max was the one who should be pissed.
 

"Guys?" Tierney gazed warily between the two of them.

Max wheeled so his back faced Lachlan. If he had to watch that smug, sneering face for one more second . . .
 

"They didn't have any bottled water around," Tierney said, her voice chipper. "So I washed one of the prop pitchers and some glasses so you guys would have water after your fight."

"Thanks, Tee," Max muttered.

"Thank you, Tierney," Lachlan said.

Rolling his shoulders, trying to shed the awful rage twisting like a windstorm inside him, Max started warming up. He and Nicola had warmed up their voices together in the car, but Max did a couple stretches and push-ups, pumping blood into his muscles, loosening up. Marginally calmer, he stripped off his street clothes and stepped into his own leather kilt and boots. Keeping his voice neutral, Max said to Lachlan, "We should do a run-through onstage."

"We don't need to do a run-through," Lachlan snapped. "
I
remember the fight just fine."

"I remember the fight too, jack ass. But we should still block it out on
this
stage."

Lachlan eyes were narrowed, full of contempt. "I need a smoke." He strolled past Max, bumping his shoulder as he jerked the dressing room door open.

Tierney pounded the make-up counter, looking ready to spit. "
Lachlan
, we don't have
time
for you to smoke!"

Lachlan pretended not to hear her and went outside. The dressing room door slammed after his exit, and they could hear the street door slam to a second later.
 

"
Ugh
." Tierney dug her fingers into her hair and pulled. "We don't have time for this prima donna shit. What the hell is wrong with him today?"

"Judith gave me Henry V two days ago," Max said. And Lach didn't seem to know that Max had promptly lost the part a few hours later.

"Henry V?
Henry V?
So?
" Tierney gasped, barreling toward all-out hysterics. "Lach's lost parts before without throwing a hissy like this. Why is he doing it
now
? And why is he doing this to
me
?"

I think he's really doing it to me
, but Max bit his tongue on that retort. Tierney wasn't likely to be reasonable with anyone who was screwing with the show, and one high-strung, overly dramatic type mad at him today was plenty. "I'll talk to Lach," Max said.

"You do that." Tierney started cleaning the counter, throwing things into her make up cart, slamming lids, working herself into a near Lachlan-level hissy it seemed.
 

Max fled outside to see if at least one of the prima donnas had recovered.

Lachlan was hunched on the small steps outside, one hand threaded into his hair, the other limp against his knees, holding a cigarette which was turning to ash without even being smoked.

As Max opened the door, Lachlan jumped and straightened from his curled posture. He indulged in a long drag of his cigarette then puffed the smoke out in rings – cocky and showing off once more. Max frowned, unable to shake the image that Lachlan had looked distraught for one second before he'd settled his smirking persona into place.
 

"We have to talk," Max said.

"I prefer not to," Lachlan replied, blowing another smoke ring.

Max growled.
Goddamn Lachlan
. "Look, I know something is going on with you, but I didn't appreciate the shit you tried to pull with Nic the other day. It was disrespectful to me and, from what I understand, disrespectful to her too. We've been friends a long time but that was fucking not OK, Lachlan."

Lachlan shifted, giving him a small glance over his shoulder. He cocked his head as if they were having a polite chat. "I'm sorry, my memory is so faulty. What 'shit' are you referring to?"

"You made a move on Nicola."

"Did I?" Lachlan blew another smoke ring.

Max's teeth were grinding together, his muscles straining with the effort of holding onto his rage, of not punching Lachlan in the head. "Forget it. See you onstage, asshole."

"I look forward to it." Lachlan stubbed his cigarette out on the concrete then tossed the butt over the side of the stairs. He stood and squared up to Max. His nostrils were flared, his jaw tight with rage.
 

Violet popped her head out of the door, Tierney at her shoulder. "Max? Lach?" Violet said. "We need you."

"Um . . . " Tierney murmured, glancing back and forth at the two of them.

"Great." Max shoved through the back door past the two women to get his armor.

"Fantastic," Lachlan growled and followed him.

Max put on his armor, glaring at Lachlan all the while.
Game on
.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Nicola stood in the wings with Tierney and watched the auditorium fill with students. Several hundred chattering, shrieking high school kids. Nicola blinked and had one of those odd life moments where she realized even the older students really did look like kids to her. Even a few years ago she wouldn't have thought of them as such.
Does that make me an official grown-up then?
She snorted, laughing at herself.

Max and Lachlan were on the opposite side of the stage from her. They stood stiff and not speaking to each other. Both men were keeping their muscles warm, Max bouncing from foot to foot like a boxer before a bout, Lachlan swinging his arms and stretching.
 

Nicola poked Tierney and gestured toward the two men. "Do you think they'll be all right?"

"Sure. Yeah." Tierney was chewing her lip in a very un-Tierney sort of way. "They did this fight choreography for months last year. Matinees. Evening performances. Fives shows a week. I'm sure they haven't forgotten."

"That's not what I meant."

The lights in the auditorium dimmed and, like the good audience members they'd been trained to be, almost all the kids fell silent at once.
 

Isabelle stepped to fill center stage and a spotlight came up on her. All of the teachers and some of the students, who probably recognized her from her film work, applauded. She gave a brief, acknowledging nod then launched into her spiel, "Hello, everyone," she began, her voice throaty and soothing. "Thank you for having us here today." Her eyes crinkled with pleasure, her charm and poise filling the whole space as she told them about the RSF: the programs they offered for students and educators, the shows they were putting on.