Wicked White
Page 67
I pull my lips into a tight line and shake my head. “That’s why I couldn’t give you more than friendship. I still love him.”
Shane forces a smile. “It appears that he still loves you too.”
Opening night has finally arrived. I’ve prepared for this moment for the last two months, and I’m finally ready to make my debut as Lesley, lead actress in Forgiving Lesley. I still can’t get over my name on the marquee outside.
Me. On Broadway. I can’t fucking believe it!
A text from Birdie chirps on my cell, telling me that she and Adele found their seats. I smile, loving the fact that people who love me are sitting out in that audience. I managed to get tickets for Darcy, Jason, and Shane too. They’ve all been there with me through my grueling rehearsal schedule and trying to keep my mind off the fact that Ace still hasn’t called me despite the nationally televised serenade.
There were so many times that I wanted to quit this play because I doubted that I had what it takes to perform in the big leagues, but all my friends were right there behind me, reminding me that I was born to do this.
“Iris, it’s showtime. You ready for this?” says Jacob Terrey, the beautiful man who earned the role opposite me as Jonah, Lesley’s love interest—a man who I’ve had to practice kissing over and over for the past two months.
I smile, trying hard not to sweat. “Yes. I am so excited, nervous, but mostly excited.”
Jacob wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his warm embrace. “You’re going to knock them dead.”
It feels nice to be hugged like this, and I’m sure to people who don’t know any better, it might look like there’s something going on between me and Jacob, but I’m sure his boyfriend would quickly correct any false assumptions.
“Thank you, Jacob. Good luck out there tonight,” I tell him before he pulls away and tells me good-bye so he can go off to warm up.
Before I know it, the opening music plays, and Jacob and I, along with the rest of the cast, are out there allowing our souls to bleed before the sold-out crowd. At first, I’ll admit, I am a little stiff, but I quickly loosen up and just have fun with it, making my voice that much more fluid.
I don’t remember ever feeling this confident in my abilities as a performer as I do in the final moments of the play. I sing the last note, and the crowd jumps to their feet, and the theater rumbles with applause.
When the curtain comes down, Jacob and I go out holding hands to take our final bows. Adele smiles as she and Birdie stand and clap along with the rest of my friends. My feet stumble below me as I bow in my over-the-top ball gown that I wear for the final scene.
“You okay there, Iris?” Jacob asks as he tightens his hold on my hand, keeping me from falling.
“Yes, I’m good,” I answer as I walk carefully off the stage.
I make it back to my dressing mirror and smile at all the beautiful flower arrangements waiting for me.
“Wow. They love you,” Jacob says as he passes by and sees my display, and then he turns his attention behind me. “And it looks like they’re still coming in.”
I turn to a young delivery man wearing a red jacket and baseball cap who is holding a huge white box. “Ms. Easton, I’ve got a delivery for you.” He smiles while thrusting a delivery slip toward me. “Just sign on the X.”
I do as he instructs, writing my name carefully on the form, and then take the box. “Do you know who they’re from?”
He shakes his head. “Nope, I’m sorry. I just deliver them.”
“Thank you.” I smile, and he nods politely and then turns on his heel and heads out the door.
I place the box down on my dressing room table and carefully untie the large red ribbon holding the box shut before lifting the lid off. Twelve breathtaking long-stem roses greet me with an amazing floral scent, and I gasp. I search for a card so I know who to thank for such a beautiful gift and find it stuffed between two of the flowers.
“To thine own self be true.”
My hand flies to my mouth as I suck in a ragged breath. All this time has gone by and I’ve not heard a single word from him, now this? On opening night? How dare he keep toying with me like this! What do these flowers even mean? Is he sorry? Is he here?
What in the hell is going on?
Tears slip down my cheeks, and I quickly bat them away, trying hard to save my stage makeup from running and turning me into a complete mess, but it’s no use. I can no longer hold back the pain that I feel, and I’m sick and tired of Ace Johnson—White—whoever and the hell he is playing with my emotions. I’ve waited long enough. It’s time I track him down and demand some answers.
My chest rises and falls at such an accelerated speed that I’m going to hyperventilate if I can’t calm down. I wish he was here. I need to yell at him—scream at the top of my lungs to get out weeks of pure frustration.
“Damn,” Jacob teases. “I’ve never seen anyone develop a pure expression of dismay over getting flowers. Usually they conjure the opposite emotion.”
I throw the card back in the box and shake my head. “I know . . . it’s just these flowers . . . well, the sender, rather, confuses the shit out of me. He hasn’t spoken to me in so long . . . I don’t understand why he keeps playing with me like this. I don’t like being strung along.”
He nods. “Men are dumbasses sometimes. Take it from me. I am one. But I’m sure, whoever he is, that he’ll get his head out of his ass. He’d be stupid to lose you. Hell, if I was a straight man, I would steal you away myself.”
Shane forces a smile. “It appears that he still loves you too.”
Opening night has finally arrived. I’ve prepared for this moment for the last two months, and I’m finally ready to make my debut as Lesley, lead actress in Forgiving Lesley. I still can’t get over my name on the marquee outside.
Me. On Broadway. I can’t fucking believe it!
A text from Birdie chirps on my cell, telling me that she and Adele found their seats. I smile, loving the fact that people who love me are sitting out in that audience. I managed to get tickets for Darcy, Jason, and Shane too. They’ve all been there with me through my grueling rehearsal schedule and trying to keep my mind off the fact that Ace still hasn’t called me despite the nationally televised serenade.
There were so many times that I wanted to quit this play because I doubted that I had what it takes to perform in the big leagues, but all my friends were right there behind me, reminding me that I was born to do this.
“Iris, it’s showtime. You ready for this?” says Jacob Terrey, the beautiful man who earned the role opposite me as Jonah, Lesley’s love interest—a man who I’ve had to practice kissing over and over for the past two months.
I smile, trying hard not to sweat. “Yes. I am so excited, nervous, but mostly excited.”
Jacob wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his warm embrace. “You’re going to knock them dead.”
It feels nice to be hugged like this, and I’m sure to people who don’t know any better, it might look like there’s something going on between me and Jacob, but I’m sure his boyfriend would quickly correct any false assumptions.
“Thank you, Jacob. Good luck out there tonight,” I tell him before he pulls away and tells me good-bye so he can go off to warm up.
Before I know it, the opening music plays, and Jacob and I, along with the rest of the cast, are out there allowing our souls to bleed before the sold-out crowd. At first, I’ll admit, I am a little stiff, but I quickly loosen up and just have fun with it, making my voice that much more fluid.
I don’t remember ever feeling this confident in my abilities as a performer as I do in the final moments of the play. I sing the last note, and the crowd jumps to their feet, and the theater rumbles with applause.
When the curtain comes down, Jacob and I go out holding hands to take our final bows. Adele smiles as she and Birdie stand and clap along with the rest of my friends. My feet stumble below me as I bow in my over-the-top ball gown that I wear for the final scene.
“You okay there, Iris?” Jacob asks as he tightens his hold on my hand, keeping me from falling.
“Yes, I’m good,” I answer as I walk carefully off the stage.
I make it back to my dressing mirror and smile at all the beautiful flower arrangements waiting for me.
“Wow. They love you,” Jacob says as he passes by and sees my display, and then he turns his attention behind me. “And it looks like they’re still coming in.”
I turn to a young delivery man wearing a red jacket and baseball cap who is holding a huge white box. “Ms. Easton, I’ve got a delivery for you.” He smiles while thrusting a delivery slip toward me. “Just sign on the X.”
I do as he instructs, writing my name carefully on the form, and then take the box. “Do you know who they’re from?”
He shakes his head. “Nope, I’m sorry. I just deliver them.”
“Thank you.” I smile, and he nods politely and then turns on his heel and heads out the door.
I place the box down on my dressing room table and carefully untie the large red ribbon holding the box shut before lifting the lid off. Twelve breathtaking long-stem roses greet me with an amazing floral scent, and I gasp. I search for a card so I know who to thank for such a beautiful gift and find it stuffed between two of the flowers.
“To thine own self be true.”
My hand flies to my mouth as I suck in a ragged breath. All this time has gone by and I’ve not heard a single word from him, now this? On opening night? How dare he keep toying with me like this! What do these flowers even mean? Is he sorry? Is he here?
What in the hell is going on?
Tears slip down my cheeks, and I quickly bat them away, trying hard to save my stage makeup from running and turning me into a complete mess, but it’s no use. I can no longer hold back the pain that I feel, and I’m sick and tired of Ace Johnson—White—whoever and the hell he is playing with my emotions. I’ve waited long enough. It’s time I track him down and demand some answers.
My chest rises and falls at such an accelerated speed that I’m going to hyperventilate if I can’t calm down. I wish he was here. I need to yell at him—scream at the top of my lungs to get out weeks of pure frustration.
“Damn,” Jacob teases. “I’ve never seen anyone develop a pure expression of dismay over getting flowers. Usually they conjure the opposite emotion.”
I throw the card back in the box and shake my head. “I know . . . it’s just these flowers . . . well, the sender, rather, confuses the shit out of me. He hasn’t spoken to me in so long . . . I don’t understand why he keeps playing with me like this. I don’t like being strung along.”
He nods. “Men are dumbasses sometimes. Take it from me. I am one. But I’m sure, whoever he is, that he’ll get his head out of his ass. He’d be stupid to lose you. Hell, if I was a straight man, I would steal you away myself.”
