Tinsel My Heart (9 page)

Jack tiptoed down the aisle about twenty rows, turned around to look at the reaction of the people in the seats. He saw that same wonder reflected in the faces of the enraptured preview audience. Wow. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and headed back to his spot. Becca had told him that
Season of Celebration
was magical. Well, Jack didn’t believe in magic. Didn’t believe in Christmas, either. At least, not until tonight.

Shit. The realization that had been poking at him with more intensity as every day of rehearsal passed finally broke through his stupid, stubborn skull. Maybe the season he’d so long hated wasn’t a big farce. Maybe it truly was a gift of love and peace. Then, like a glacier calving off an ice shelf, the real truth hit him. Maybe his love for Becca could be the gift of the holiday that endured year round.

The shepherds and their unpredictable goats were off stage. Three Wise Men were about to start their processional. Nothing should go wrong there. Jack had a solid two and a half minutes of pomp and circumstance to run up to the booth and find Becca and share his revelation. He slipped out the first door then pushed through the second set that led to the lobby.

“You son of a bitch.” Ty’s dad barreled straight at him. The hood of his anorak flew off. Arm cocked, he didn’t slow at all, but jammed his fist right into Jack’s cheekbone.

For a guy on the wrong side of fifty, Chris Petersen packed a hell of a punch. Pain splintered through his jaw, pulsed up into his eye. Jack grabbed the door handle to steady himself. And tried to come up with some reason why he shouldn’t pound the guy into next week. “What’s wrong? Couldn’t score a ticket to opening night?”

“You think I care about this show? You think I care about anything tainted by association with you?”

Not a friendly visit, then. Jack pushed off the door. “Whatever your issue, keep your voice down. There are kids in there. Celebrating fucking Christmas.”

That drew a guilty glance out of the older man. He backed up a few steps, away from the double doors. “You know who showed up at our door tonight? Tyler. I’ve never seen him so upset. The boy was bawling.”

Jack wrote that off to the drugs making him more volatile. He’d seen it more than a few times before. Of course, what with their parental blinders, the Petersens had probably never experienced it. At least, not this up close and personal. So he’d cut them one, dime-thin slice of slack. “Well, he’s sick. Unstable.”

“Don’t you dare blame Tyler. This is all your fault.”

Now Jack began to wonder if Chris Petersen was high. It was the only explanation for him being so unreasonable. “You’re joking. What—you think I hired a group of mercenaries to break him out of rehab and bring him here?”

The older man did pull back on the volume. But his loathing rang through loud and clear. “Your partnership clearly ruined my son. Whatever you got him mixed up in over the years, it sent him on the path to self-destruction. Misery. Despair. Illegal substances. All the blame lies squarely at your feet.”

“Really? You don’t want to spread around any of that blame to your drug-addled son? You’re dumping this load of crap on me because...why? After all these years? After I worked my ass off to build a company with Ty? After we earned a fucking Oscar together? That’s not enough polish for you? You still hate me just because I’m the poor janitor’s son? The riff-raff that smudged the private-school perfection of your golden child?” Amazing how anger and bitterness dropped back onto his shoulders like a well-worn pair of pajamas.

“Don’t you try to turn this around.” Chris stalked to the exit door. Paused with one hand on the push bar. “And don’t try to contact Tyler, either.”

“He’s my partner.” Like it or not.

“He’s my son. From the day you met, I said I didn’t want my son associating with trash. I haven’t changed my mind.” He stormed out into the icy night.

Jack rubbed his cheek. Winced. Kinda felt like he’d had a root canal. The last five minutes had been about as fun. After all he’d done for Ty. His father had dumped him at a stuffy college. Jack got a hundred texts about how unhappy Ty was before orientation ended. So yeah, he’d convinced Ty to take a gamble and come make movies with him. It didn’t follow Chris and Edna Petersen’s master plan for their son, but it made him happy. Shouldn’t that count for something?

When Ty first called for help from jail, two years later, Jack had bailed him out. After discovering that Ty had emptied their production account to snort coke all through a wild weekend in Atlantic City. So Jack had sold his brand new motorcycle to make bail. For Ty. Followed by a string of other sacrifices, all for Ty. Now, with Ty back in his life for about a blink, he’d been gifted with this wretched trip down memory lane. Shit. He was done. Gingerly, he tried to wiggle his jaw. Winced again and bit back a curse. As of this moment, the days of Jack Whittaker taking the hits—both literally and figuratively—for Ty Petersen were over. If Jack learned nothing else from this exile back to his hometown, it was that from now on, he’d damn well concentrate only on his
own
happiness. Period. Skip right past Christmas and make that his New Year’s resolution. Starting with booking a flight away from his personal hell hole straight to Hollywood as soon as possible.

Chapter Nine

Everyone in the theatre world was superstitious. If something worked once on opening night, you darn well repeated it on every opening night for perpetuity. So on Becca’s left wrist, she wore the lucky charm bracelet her parents started for her high school graduation. On her feet were the black velvet ballerina flats she wore to every opening night—also lucky. Pinned to her dress was the golden nativity pin the cast gave her on closing night the first time she did
Season of Celebration.
Had to be lucky.

And around her neck was her grandmother’s pearl necklace. Not for luck, but so Becca could feel her grandmother’s presence on this special night. She remembered how much Gram loved decorating the Christmas trees in the lobby. How she never missed the first show. Had always baked vast quantities of cookies for the cast party. It kicked off their own personal Christmas season. Doing it without her for the first time this year would be oh so hard.

What would make it easier was a hug from Jack. It surprised her more than a little how much her big, bad boyfriend liked to cuddle. No complaints, though. Becca was storing up all his touches and caresses like a squirrel stockpiling for the winter. They hadn’t talked about when he’d leave. But she knew he’d been counting the days till his escape from Minnesota since the moment he landed. Opening night had always been the ticket to his freedom. Plus, she knew he’d spoken to the people in Hollywood yesterday about that indie script.

She hadn’t seen him since yesterday’s dress rehearsal. It was the first time she’d slept alone in days. Unable to carve out a moment with him, after rehearsal she’d immediately gone to pick up Ty. Rather than explain her late-night road trip in a text, Becca had simply told him they’d catch up today. Jack and Ty’s partnership had ended on an ugly note. She thought it best not to ask Jack to accompany them on the drive to Hazelden. But oh, how she’d missed him in the dark, silent car on the trip back to Minneapolis. And wondered why he hadn’t returned her call.

If she hadn’t known he’d spent all of today on a mini-press blitz for the show, Becca would worry that he’d already left. Oh, God. What if that was Jack’s plan. Make a clean break. No messy goodbyes. No chance for Becca to slip up and tell him that she was in love with him. How she had always secretly loved the boy, but now desperately adored the strong man. No, it was much better for her to keep that to herself. She swallowed hard, and wished she could swallow all those feelings bubbling up as easily. What Jack needed more than anything right now was freedom. The chance to spread his wings without anything or anyone weighing him down for once. And she loved him enough to give him that chance.

Judy Bergdahl, resplendent in the same green velvet dress she wore every year on opening night, tapped her on the shoulder. “Are you ready? The cast has gathered.”

“Oh, of course.” So much for finding Jack. Now she probably wouldn’t get that hug until after the curtain fell. Unless—another niggle of doubt crept up her spine—he really had left for the airport as soon as the interviews were over. “We don’t want to keep the audience stuck waiting in the lobby too long.” Becca tightened the bow at the waist of her long taffeta skirt. Dark burgundy, so she wouldn’t blend in with the trees like Judy unfortunately did. And double checked that she hadn’t dripped any of her hastily scarfed down pork lo mein onto her ivory scoop-necked blouse.

Already in costume, the entire cast gathered on stage. Lots of tan and brown robes, except for the jewel-toned velvets of the kings and Mary’s conventional blue dress. Becca had sweet-talked the camera guys into taping this
Season of Celebration
special opening night tradition. Judy swept downstage center while Becca hung back by the curtains, scanning for Jack.

The board chair crooked a finger at Herod, pulled the personal mic from around his ear and held it to her mouth. “Once again, we stand upon this stage, ready to share the joy of the season with the multitudes. The difference is that this is the last time we will do it here. I’m happy to announce that pre-sale of the DVDs has outpaced our projections. Our phones have been ringing off the hook after all the interviews our director gave. With a lot of hard work, not to mention more volunteer hours from all of you, we will raise this curtain in our new home next year.”

Hearty applause and foot stomping shook the stage. Judy had offered to let Becca make the announcement. But Becca didn’t want the glory. She just wanted a good show. And Jack. Who, thank goodness, she spotted almost in the wings, half-hidden by the heavy velvet main drape. He wore a silky red shirt beneath his black suit. No tie, but then, she hadn’t expected one. Jack played by his own rules.

Judy walked over by the stairs leading to the orchestra pit. There stood all twelve feet of Christmas glory. The biggest and best of all the Christmas trees in the theatre. Its branches were bare but for copious strands of twinkle lights. “As we do every year, the cast and crew will now each place their own ornament on the tree. Becca, we’d like you to lead us off.”

In yet another tradition, cast members chose their own ornaments initially, but hung the same one every year. Becca’s had always been a sparkly, shimmery crystal icicle. So a ripple ran through the cast when she held up a large gold apple.

“Aren’t you all observant? Yes, I’ve got a new ornament this year. Not to mess with opening night juju, I promise. But our ornaments are supposed to be personal, to represent who we are. This apple is a representation of a big change in my life.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I’m accepting a contract at the Lucille Lortel Theatre. Off Broadway, but about a thousand miles closer to the Great White Way than Hennepin Avenue is to it. So I’m moving to New York.”

Becca looked at the people she’d grown so close to over the years as they clapped for her big news. Looked at everyone she could, except Jack. She simply couldn’t bear to lock eyes with him. “And I want to publicly thank Jack Whittaker. He didn’t just motivate all of you into creating the best show possible. He gave me the motivation I needed to make this decision and take this next step with my career.” More applause rang out. Loud enough that Becca feared the early patrons out in the lobby would wonder what the heck was going on. Quickly, she hung the apple and stepped back from the tree.

Jack, on the other hand, stepped up to the spike mark for dead center stage. The spotlight revealed a dark purple bruise around his right eye. When Becca drove Ty to Hazelden, he hadn’t mentioned getting into a fight with Jack. But she couldn’t imagine how else it could’ve happened. Knowing Jack, he’d probably refused to cover it up with makeup for today’s interviews. Great. She’d be fielding some interesting calls tomorrow about that. A heads-up would’ve been nice.

Stroking his goatee, Jack said, “You all probably noticed I’m not wild about Christmas.”

“You sat on the baby Jesus doll,” said the actor playing Joseph.

“You threw your boot at my goat,” yelled a shepherd.

“Well, he did keep trying to eat it. I was just obliging.” The cast and crew laughed. Becca admired the easy rapport he’d developed with them. For someone who’d vowed to hate every moment he spent in Minnesota, Jack seemed to enjoy the challenge of putting a professional polish on an admittedly amateur production. “As relentless as I was about whipping you into shape, you all were equally relentless with trying to get me to appreciate Christmas.” He shuffled his feet. Jammed his hands into his pockets. “I want to thank you all for that. And I’m now willing to admit that it doesn’t entirely suck.”

Thunderous applause, cheers and whistles. “I don’t want to hang my own ornament on the tree. Instead, I’d like to hang this.” He pulled a delicate star, covered in shiny crystals, out of his lapel pocket. “It’s in honor of Becca’s grandmother, Eileen Heglund, so that her spirit can always be a part of this production. I hope you’ll hang it every year.”

Oh. Becca’s hands flew up to cover her mouth. “Oh my goodness. Oh, Jack.” The thoughtfulness of his gesture moved her to the tears she’d been trying so hard to hold back.

Judy took it from him, placed it on the tree. “I’ll make sure of it.”

The spotlight began to roam off Jack to the next cast member. Jack gave a two-fingered whistle and waved his hands at the spot operator. “Wait, I’ve got something else to say.”

“Not a surprise,” said Marty. He wore his opening night bow tie, covered in holly, with blinking lights at all four corners. Becca always had to remind him to turn it off before the show started.

“I’ve got one more ornament. But I don’t want to hang it on this tree.” He pulled out the crooked bell ornament that should’ve been sitting back home on her mantel. The one he made in high school. What on earth was he up to?

Jack grabbed her hand, tugged her forward. “Becca, this one is for you. I want you to come back to New York with me and hang it on the Christmas tree in my apartment. Well, as soon as you help me go out and buy one.”

“What? Jack, no,” she whispered. Why would he do this in front of everyone? Why dangle a weekend visit in front of her before ripping them apart for good?

“Becca, yes,” he insisted. Sandwiched her other hand between his, the ornament dangling down underneath. “You just said you’re moving there anyway. Be with me once you do.”

And do what? Wait for him to pop by every six months between film projects? That was an even worse offer. More painful to turn down. “No. I can’t. You’re going to Hollywood.”

Jack shook his head. “I am going to Hollywood. This weekend. But just for a slew of meetings. I’ll be back in the Big Apple by Christmas Eve. In time to throw myself into the holiday and take you ice skating at Rockefeller Center.”

“For how long?” She could’ve kicked herself for bothering to ask. Wrenched her hands out of his. “It doesn’t matter. You told me that you need to fly solo. That you need to chase your dreams, by yourself. I get it. Really. I won’t trample your newfound freedom. I won’t hold you back.”

“I don’t need freedom. I need you. Just holding me. Caring for me like no one else. Ty emailed me this morning. Told me what you did for him. For us. How you knew, deep down, that I couldn’t move forward unless I knew Ty was taken care of. You know what’s good for me better than I do.”

“So you’re giving up your freedom out of gratitude? Nope. I won’t let you.” Especially not when gratitude was a pale emotion compared with the deep, bright love she felt for him.

“Shit, I’m doing this all wrong.” Jack looked down at the row of shepherd kids seated on the floor. “You didn’t hear me say that.”

They all giggled.

“Jack, stop. Please,” she begged. Saying no to him was too hard.

“I want to do this here. I’m no good at Christmas. Obviously. But I want to start.” He pressed the ornament into her hands, then kissed the back of each. “I want to start by giving you a gift I hope like he—” he glanced nervously at the kids, “—heck you won’t try to return on December twenty-sixth. I’m giving you my heart, Becca. Hell, you’ve had it since we were teenagers. I loved you then. And I’m in love with you a million times more now. We can help each other to follow our dreams, together. And my first and longest held dream, is to be with you.”

Their senior year, when the three of them had put on the high school holiday show, they’d all exchanged presents. Ty gave her the cast album to
Into the Woods
. Jack gave her handwritten coupon book for ten backrubs. Back then, it had butterflied her stomach. She’d slept with it under her pillow that night. This, however, was better. Becca threw herself into his arms.

“You’re one heck of a gift-giver, Jack,” she said. “But I’m no slouch either. So I’ll give you a two-fer. I’ll give you my heart, and I promise to give you the best Christmas ever. For the rest of our lives.”

* * * * *

If you enjoyed TINSEL MY HEART, be sure to check out Christi’s other titles from Carina Press.