Picture This (28 page)

Audra dragged Celia off, and Niall jumped when, with a thump and a whine, the sound system came back on. A few people applauded Alan, who raised his hands in acknowledgment, and the final rehearsal was back on.

“P
urple? Really? You
knew
I was wearing purple!” Missy Preston huffed, looking in the dressing room mirror at Rachel Dwyer, behind her.

“So what? This looks good on me.”

“The dresses are too similar! We look too much alike!”

“No, we don't! You're much—”

“
Don't
say it.”

“Taller.”

“Thank you.”

“And older,” Rachel muttered.

“I heard that!”

“I could have said wrinklier!”

“Okay, that's enough. Ladies, you both look beautiful,” Ray muttered, trying to placate them, although he was too preoccupied to sound convincing. Then he turned around, eyeballing Niall suspiciously. “Shouldn't you be making yourself useful?”

“What?” Niall looked up absently.

“Don't just sit there! Do something constructive!”

“Right.” But he just slouched lower into the faded floral easy chair in the corner of the mildew-scented dressing room, staring at nothing, not caring if his tux wrinkled or if his suit absorbed the funky smells issuing from the ancient fabric.

Darryl kicked the base of the chair to get his attention. “Hey, man. You nervous?”

Nervous? He didn't get nervous anymore. Not about performances, anyway. No, as usual these days, his head was filled with nothing but thoughts of Celia.
That
situation made him nervous. He couldn't stop wondering if he'd done the right thing.

“Ah, he'll be fine,” Ray said dismissively, then spoke into a walkie-talkie. “Brandon? You there? How's it looking? Parking lot filling up?”

“Not really, boss.”

“What the hell—? You're supposed to be parking cars!”

“Can't, if there aren't any to park.”

Everyone in the dressing room froze, and it was clear what they were all thinking: Nobody was coming to the show?

“What's going on? Talk to me,” Ray ordered. “Brandon? You there?”

“I think you're supposed to say ‘over,' ” Mr. D advised.

“Shut up, Lorenzo. This isn't the movies.” Into the walkie-talkie, he said, “Brandon? Why are there no cars to park?” Reluctantly, he added, “Over.”

“Hang on a sec, boss.” After a pause, the young man came back with, “Yeah, we see the problem now. Everyone's bumper-to-bumper on the road coming up here.”

“Did somebody hit a deer or something?”

“Nope. Burt Womack's in front. Looks like he's leading a parade.”

Ray sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead.

“Plenty of cars behind him, though. We'll be busy in about five, ten minutes.”

“So you mean Burt's about ten yards from the gates.”

Brandon laughed. “Right.”

“All right. Thanks for the update. Get to work. Er, over and out.” Ray pocketed the walkie-talkie and barked, “All right, you heard the boy. Nearly showtime. Now, we're all going to walk out the back door and around to the front.”

“What for?” Brianna asked, tugging on the hem of her blue minidress.

“So we can go through the front doors. Make an entrance.”

“That's just weird, Ray,” Darryl rumbled.

“Do as I tell you, Sykes. Everybody pair up. Crenshaw, you're coming too.”

“Yep.” Niall had decided not to fight this battle when Ray first proposed his idea of walking the red carpet, about a week ago. He'd even agreed to be the consultant for all things Hollywood, so Ray could get the look and feel of an opening night right.

Ray held the dressing room door open and looked over each pair as they went past. He stopped Laurie at the threshold. “Where's Nora?”

“I don't know,” she whispered apprehensively. “Maybe she's late, and stuck behind Burt now with everybody else?”

Ray frowned. “Okay. Go on. She can catch up.” When Laurie was gone, Ray muttered, “Great. That's all we need.” Then he shook himself. “Okay, Crenshaw, let's go.”

“Um, give me a minute, okay? I'll be right behind you.”

“Hurry up, then.” And Ray bustled off, herding his flock as attentively as a border collie.

Niall stood and stretched, appreciating the quiet of the dressing room for a few minutes. In a little while, he was going to have to go out onstage and crack jokes and be charming and . . . everything he didn't feel like doing right now. He dug deep for his professionalism, his funny-guy persona. It was in there somewhere, and he could haul it out and make it do tricks whether he was really feeling it or not—as he'd done many times before—but it was pretty difficult at the moment.

He slouched down the back hallway, hands in his pockets. Ahead of him, something clanked. Then, near the short flight of steps that led up to the emergency exit door, he spotted a shadow that moved. He stopped. Without a word, he sat down on one of the steps and just waited patiently.

Eventually a tired voice said, “I can't do it.”

“Sure you can.”

“Nope.”

“You're here, aren't you? That's something.”

Nora emerged from the shadows and leaned against a pillar, running a hand over her wild hair. “No idea why, that's for sure. You're not getting me on that stage.”

“Okay.” They were silent for a while. Then Niall murmured, “I'll bet you look for his name in the gossip columns. Watch every single one of his movies . . .”

Nora opened her mouth to respond, closed it again, then grudgingly admitted, “Even the episodes of his lousy one-season sitcom somebody posted on YouTube.”

“Is he still in the business?”

“Yeah, but he quit acting and became a reality-show producer a while back. So he's behind the camera now.”

“How long has it been?”

“I don't know.”

“Sure you do.”

Another pause. “It'll be twenty-three years. In ten days. I guess it's kind of impossible to forget the day someone ruins your life, huh?”

Niall shrugged. “I don't think he much ruined your life. And who knows what would have happened if you'd actually gone with him? What if everything had turned out worse?”

“At least it would have been
something
.”

“I think you've got a whole lot of something right here. What's
he
got?”

“A production company, supermodel wife, two daughters. Not that I'm counting.”

Oops.
“Well, he left you behind, so he's missing some common sense, anyway.”

“Flatterer.”

“You know, I think it's time to show him what you're made of.”

“What in the hell are you talking about? The contest? He won't know this is going on.”

“No, but if you sing tonight, you'll be proving to yourself that he didn't ruin your life. And in a way, you'll be showing him too. You didn't stop existing twenty-three years ago.”

More silence. Niall held his breath.

“You are out of your ever-lovin' mind, movie star.”

Niall sighed. “Okay. Forget it. I'll go tell Ray. He'll figure something out for Laurie.”

He stood up and straightened his tux; Nora put a hand on his arm. “I didn't say I wasn't going to do it. I just said you're out of your mind.”

Keeping his expression neutral, although he wanted to grin from ear to ear, he said, “If you hurry, you can catch up to everyone else and walk the red carpet.”

“Not a chance. I need time to cram myself into that stupid dress Audra's making me wear.” She paused. “Is Laurie ready? She doing all right?”

“She's fine. She'll be better when she knows her singing partner is ready too.”

Nora paused and scrutinized him with her hard eyes. “What's the matter with you? You're not your usual goofy puppy-dog self.”

Shrugging, he said, “Nothing, really.”

But Nora evidently had a pretty good idea what was bothering him. “Where's your sidekick? Celia?”

“Not my sidekick. Not my anything.”

“Oh, like I'm supposed to believe that.” She snorted. “You're not here for this contest. You're here for her. Don't deny it; I can see it every time you look at her.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn't matter. We're . . . not compatible.”

Another snort. “Right. Or you're just chicken.”

“Says the woman who nearly backed out of the competition a few minutes ago.”

“Don't change the subject. We're talking about you now. What's going on? Did you dump her?”

Oh God.
He pretty much had, hadn't he? He just hadn't snuck out of town in the middle of the night, or whatever Nora's celebrity had done. But he couldn't admit it; that would hit too close to home for Nora. So he stayed silent.

“Figures,” she said. “You Hollywood types really are all alike.”

“Hey, that's not true.”

“You know what he said to me before he took off?”

“What?”

“He told me he didn't think I'd ‘fit in' in California. As if people don't reinvent themselves all the time, to break into show business. Hell, even Marilyn started out as a cute little brunette named Norma Jean. But you know what I think? I think he was afraid he'd be embarrassed by me. Are you afraid Celia would embarrass you, movie star?”

“God, no!” Niall protested, truly shocked. “She's amazing. She's incredible. If anything, she should be embarrassed by me.”

“Well, she's not. And that's clear every time
she
looks at
you.
” Nora paused. “So what the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to keep her out of . . . trying to protect her.”

“Trying to protect yourself, you mean.”

“I told you, I'm not like your—”

“Prove it. Do right by her. And for God's sake, be honest with yourself. Stop making excuses to hide.”

“You do realize the irony in that, coming from you, right?”

“I'm going on that stage. What are
you
going to do? Just don't—”

“ ‘Don't hurt her, or I'll kill you,' right?”

“How'd you guess?”

“It's a pretty common theme around here.”

“And we all mean it.”

 

Niall pushed open the back door and emerged into the humid early evening. The sun was starting to set a bit earlier now that it was the middle of August, but the heat remained, and he immediately regretted expending any energy hurrying around the side of the building. The parking lot was indeed filling up now, with rows and rows of cars already parked and more streaming in, their tires stirring up low clouds of dust in the dry dirt-and-gravel lot. As he made his way through the crowds heading for the main entrance, he craned his neck, looking for just one person.

There. He spotted Celia and her mother emerging from Wendy's car. And he nearly tripped over absolutely nothing in the broad, empty expanse.

Celia was a vision. That was the only word that came to mind. She absolutely glowed in a pale yellow dress made of some sort of lacy stuff that did indeed cling to her curves, as Audra had promised, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Little bits of fabric wrapped around the tops of her arms, leaving her shoulders bare, taunting him, inviting him to cover them in kisses. Her brown hair was curled and swept over one shoulder; when she turned around, a comb or a clip at the back of her hair glinted in the evening light. And there . . . there were the legs he loved to caress. The ones that should be declared a national treasure.

He could have stood there looking at her all night, except for a driving urge to get closer to her, wrap his arms around her, feel her body up against his. It was official: He'd completely lost his mind. No, his heart. He'd suspected as much all along, but now he knew it was true. And he knew he'd been an idiot to think he could stay away from her.

Niall took a breath and collected himself before approaching the women casually, as though he absolutely was not entertaining any of the hundred filthy thoughts racing through his mind, even with her mother standing right there. When he reached them, he observed the social niceties, kissing Wendy's cheek, making small talk, while Celia avoided his eyes, instead fussing with her camera bag and a small purse. He took the camera bag from her.

“Since Alan is busy with the sound board, may I escort you in?”

Wendy tucked her hand into the crook of his arm he offered her, bugging her eyes at Celia to do the same on Niall's other side. Reluctantly, Celia obeyed.

“This is quite the occasion, isn't it?” Wendy said, marveling at the anomalous red carpet stretching out the weather-beaten doors, down the concrete path, and into the parking lot.

“We did our best to bring a little bit of Hollywood to Marsden.”

And, true to Hollywood form, when they stepped onto the red carpet, flashes went off, lighting up the entranceway and startling Celia.

“Your buddies,” Niall explained.

“I was wondering where they'd got to. It was awfully quiet on the street when my mom picked me up.”

“Ah, see? You missed having them around.”

“Well, I wouldn't exactly say
that
. . .”

Niall grinned, thrilled that she let her guard down with him, even just for a moment. “I figured the least they could do is cover Night of the Shooting Stars. Pose for a few pictures with me?”

“What?”

“We might as well. These guys have been chasing you for days; this way they can get a nice shot of you—of us—in a controlled environment.”

“Are you sure you're not just trying to steal the news cycle from Tiffany? There are photos of her all over the gossip Web sites with someone else.”

“Already? I'm hurt.”

“Hey, I thought you were a
good
actor.”

“Funny. Okay, who's the lucky guy?”

“Um . . .”