Curtain Call (16 page)

“Do you think Ms. Bard is happy?” I whispered to Josh.

He raised an eyebrow. “Where did that come from?”

I jutted my chin toward the stage. When I really looked at her I could see that she sagged against the chair with her arms folded loosely in front of her. The microphone hung limply in her left hand. “Just look at her.”

Josh studied Ms. Bard. Our once vibrant drama teacher seemed a shell of her former self. She simply allowed the guy to walk all over her without so much as a sassy retort. Then he shrugged. “I don't know. I think this whole thing might just be draining. Plus, that guy was a jerk to her.”

“Yeah, he was.”

Just then I saw Grandma and Harlow making their way to the stage. I groaned. “This can
not
be happening.”

Josh chuckled. “This is not going to end well.”

On stage, Grandma caught sight of Harlow and waved. “Yoohoo! Harlow! Granny's gonna beat ya'!”

Harlow's eyes narrowed, but she didn't take the bait. Instead she turned toward the audience and pasted a big smile on her face. Beneath the smile I could see the grimace of pain. Why had I agreed to bring the fool? She clearly needed to be at home in bed still. Thankfully she was standing still for now, but who knew what they would require for the audition.

Grandma's antics got several people in the audience laughing and catcalling. I saw the man with the mustache scribbling something on his notepad as he pointed to Grandma and leaned toward another guy on the panel. I loved my grandma, but this on-and-off again feud with Harlow pushed the limits of my patience. My mind strayed to the ridiculous amounts of flirting Harlow had done with Duke before Grandma's wedding. Grandma and Harlow had escalated in snarkiness until I had to intervene, which had ended with Harlow giving me a black eye. I shuddered at the memory.

“We need a dancer,” Mustache Man began. “The person who gets this role will be required to perform a solo in a line dance during the wedding scene. Right now, we'd like each of you to show us your best impromptu line dance. Just step up when it's your turn and give us a sampling of what you can do. Music!”

The girl at the beginning of the line did a generic version of a popular line dance from the nineteen nineties. She lacked rhythm, and by the end of her audition her face was beet red. I felt sorry for her, but my attention was on Harlow. I had no idea how she would get through this part. Two more girls went.

“This is painful,” Christy whispered.

I nodded my agreement, clenching my teeth as Grandma stepped forward. She fell into step with the beat of the music immediately. Her performance was comical and exaggerated. Even I had to admit she was good.

“Must be all that practice at the Sugar Bomb,” Josh said. I choked on my laughter and started coughing.

“That's really your grandma?” Christy asked on my other side. “No grandma should be able to dance that way.”

“What part are they auditioning for anyway?” I asked.

Christy rummaged around in her purse until she pulled out a creased copy of her sign-in papers. “Some drunk wedding guest doing a line dance or something,” she said.

“Or something.” I put a hand over my eyes. The auditions continued down the line with some of the other girls doing pretty well. My stomach turned over when I realized that Harlow would be up next.

She stepped slowly to the front of the stage. Each movement made me wince for her as I imagined the amount of pain she must be in. Still, somehow she made each forward progression look deliberate and in time to the music. For a few measures of the music, she put on an admirable performance, but then suddenly her foot caught on the edge of the stage and she stumbled. She cried out in pain as she fell to the floor.

Josh and I jumped to our feet at the same moment. Before we could go any farther, Christian darted up the stage stairs. He helped Harlow up, and wrapped a protective arm around her as they headed for the wings. I settled back into my seat, the springs creaking under my rapid descent. The buzz of my phone in my back pocket startled me. I had set it on vibrate when we entered the theater. Caller ID told me it was Max. I debated leaving to answer, but the next group had just taken the stage, and I didn't want to be rude.

After the call ended, I quickly tapped out a text.

What's up? At movie auditions.

Seconds later, Max texted back:
Someone destroyed our sets. Not a joke. How soon can you get here?

I stared at my phone's screen, not really comprehending the words. Josh leaned over and read the text. His sudden intake of breath was my only clue.

“Do you need a ride?” His voice was low, but there was a sense of urgency that I appreciated.

With a quick nod, I began gathering my things. Christy glanced at me with a curious expression on her face. As she lifted her eyebrows, I angled the phone at her so she could see the text. She gasped and a hand flew to her mouth. Apparently we were all on the same page at the horror of what this meant.

As Josh and I made our way out of the theater, I groaned. “We have less than two weeks until finals. Who would sabotage our show?”

Josh put a protective arm around my shoulders. “I'm sure Max is dealing with it just fine,” he said. “We'll be down there in five minutes. Maybe things aren't that bad. You can't tell from a text, right?”

I chewed my lip and gave him a reluctant nod. Even though I knew he was right, it didn't quell the horror churning in my stomach.

Josh's car smelled faintly of burritos and coffee. The smell reminded me of all our late night runs to El Burrito Loco, a tiny all-night Mexican stand on the edge of campus that served burritos the size of my head for two dollars. We'd buy one and split it, stopping by a coffee place for a caffeine shot before heading back to the library.

“I can't believe college is almost over,” I said. The words sort of bubbled over at the memories.

Josh drummed his fingers on the steering wheel absently. “Graduation's right around the corner,” he agreed.

“Not if I don't pass this senior project,” I said with a sigh.

Josh grinned. “The project itself will blow everyone away. How many other people in your class have three octogenarians doing a burlesque routine to ‘Lady Marmalade'?”

I giggled a little at the thought of Grandma and her friends doing their number for my professor and the other critiquers on the panel. Still…with the sets ruined that would eat up a lot of the free time Max and I had set aside to deal with the lighting and sound for the show.

“Hey, Han, come on,” Josh said. He took my hand over the center console, stroking the palm of my hand with his thumb. “This will be fine, I promise. We can rebuild the sets.”

The reminder of the ruined sets sent reality slamming down on me. I fought back the tears that flooded my eyes. Despite a series of rapid blinks a few wayward tears straggled down my face. We reached the theater building, and Josh pulled the car into the first available spot. He cupped my cheek with his hand and drew my face toward him.

“It'll be okay,” he said again in a voice that was confident and assuring. He wiped the stray tears away. Then he leaned over to kiss me.

His kiss was feather light, but something in me broke, and I leaned in for a fuller kiss. With a little shifting, I straddled the console and slid onto his lap. The steering wheel bumped my lower back, but I didn't care. All I could think about was kissing Josh. I wove my hands into his thick brown hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, and I sighed with pleasure. We hadn't kissed like this in months. And I missed it.

Suddenly Josh drew away, his breathing uneven. His hands settled firmly on my hips, then he gently helped me back to the passenger seat. Embarrassment crept over me. I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye. The purple twilight suddenly held a fascination that I had never known.

“Hannah,” Josh said. Then he stopped and cleared his throat.

“I thought…” I said with a shrug. I didn't actually know what I thought.

“Things are different,” Josh said. “We can't…you said…”

I sank back into the passenger seat, feeling oddly rejected and humiliated. After all my righteous indignation about our sex life, I still wanted him.

Josh took my hand. “Go take care of the sets, Han. We'll deal with us later.”

I exhaled a shaky breath and looked over at him. “Okay.”

He leaned across the center console and pressed a kiss against my temple. I climbed out of the car, still chewing my lip.

I tried to shake off the funk that descended over me. As I climbed the grand staircase in the lobby of the theater building, my thoughts of Josh gave way to worry over what state I'd find the sets in. As I reached the practice space, the door was propped open. Light spilled into the darkened hallway, and I could hear voices inside.

Slipping in, I immediately saw Max on the stage with one of our theater department chairs and a uniformed police officer. Max raised a hand at me in greeting and motioned for me to join them on stage.

Dr. Elliot, the department chair, asked, “Hannah, we've been discussing several scenarios with Max. When was the last time you were in the rehearsal space?”

I chewed my lip and glanced at Max. “Last night,” I replied. “Max and a few cast members and I stayed after rehearsal to finish painting the backdrop for our, um, our burlesque scene.”

Dr. Elliot's eyebrows rose several inches, threatening to disappear into his bushy white hair. From the corner of my eye, I caught the police officer smirk.

“And when did you leave?” The police officer's voice was deep and laced with amusement. He reached out to take my hand. “Officer Rainey, miss.”

I shook his hand as I thought about it. “I guess we finished up around eleven. Max locked up. We all walked out together. Max, Sandy, and Marie headed to Crossroads. Josh and I headed to my sister's place to check on her.”

Officer Rainey nodded while he jotted down the names in his notebook. “I'll need contact info for the other people who were with you. They might be able to remember something relevant.”

“Are you sure you locked the door?” Dr. Elliot demanded. His face was a pale shade of red. It made him look sick. I took a step toward Max just in case our professor decided to lose his dinner on the stage.

Max nodded. “Absolutely. And I'm the only one with a key.”

“Max is super careful about locking up,” I added. Dr. Elliot's face turned a darker shade of red. I worried the man might have a stroke. He was mad, but it seemed like he was angrier at Max, and I guess me, than he was about the situation.

“We have never had this happen. Not in all my years in this department. It seems to me…” Dr. Elliot began.

“It seems to me that these students have had an awful bit of misfortune,” Officer Rainey interrupted. “I promise, Professor, the department will do all we can to make sure we catch the culprits. You have to realize though, sir, that the campus police department has many cases to handle. It's a shame this building doesn't have surveillance cameras.”

“You can thank the state legislature for that,” Dr. Elliot grumbled. His face turned a more acceptable shade of pink. “They won't even give us funding to fix the roof. One day that ceiling is simply going to cave in.” He paused, his eyes darting up toward the rafters. “Do you need me for anything else?”

His abruptness made Officer Rainey raise an eyebrow. “No, sir. I've got your number. And you have mine if you have any questions. Please feel free to give me a call any time.”

“I'll do that,” Dr. Elliot said as he stomped down the stage stairs. He grumbled to himself all the way up the aisle and out the doors.

Max and I looked at each other. My confusion was mirrored on Max's face. “What in the world?”

Officer Rainey laughed. “My thoughts exactly.”

I gasped as I looked past Max and Officer Rainey to the three large backdrops that we had left spread out the night before. Someone had doused each in what must have been a bucket of paint. Blue rivulets ran through the elaborate back drop we had created for the burlesque number. The curtains that had taken me a week to paint were destroyed. They had been my distraction from my worry about my sister as she recovered. The other two set pieces hadn't fared any better.

My head started to feel light and my vision blackened around the edges. “Why would someone do this?” I found Max's arm around me, supporting me. How had that gotten there? “We're going to fail.”

The voice saying those words couldn't be mine because the note of hysteria made it sound tinny and high-pitched. Shaking my head, I looked up at Max. He looked so sad. Not that I blamed him. This was a big setback for the show. Officer Rainey tapped his pen against his notepad. “I know I asked you this before, but did you notice anything funny about the door when you came in?”

Max shook his head. “Everything was totally normal until I got in here.”

“Well, I'll let you know if we find anything,” Officer Rainey said and tipped his hat. When he had gone, Max and I sat down on the edge of the stage. My tears started to flow. Max let me cry into his shirt until I was spent. Leaning my head against his shoulder, I felt the faint stirrings of embarrassment. Crying in front of Max hadn't exactly been on my agenda today. And yet, now that I was all cried out, I felt better.

“I'm guessing there are some other things going on,” Max said. When I didn't answer, he simply nodded. “I think you need a plan, Hannah. I know that's what we need to fix this project before finals.”

“A plan, huh?” I hiccupped and swiped at my runny nose.

Max gave me a one-armed hug before standing up. He turned and surveyed the damage to our sets again. “A plan,” he confirmed.

I liked the sound of a plan—orderly, helpful. Maybe having a plan would help me in other areas of my life. With a deep breath, I stood up and joined Max by the sets.