Once Upon A Setup (Meet Cute Romance) Page 2

  A door to to his left opened, and a woman slipped out, quiet as a shadow.

  Hello gorgeous.

  She wore one of those dance costume things that looked like a swimsuit with a long flowy skirt. A leotard? The skirt trailed behind her like the tail of a comet as she moved up the side aisle. She was clearly on a mission, looking for someone or something.

  From the stage, somebody launched into a painfully off-key rendition of “Blue Skies”. Ignoring that poor guy, Myles twisted in his seat to watch the woman progress toward the back. Had she already auditioned? Before the question even finished forming, she’d come back from the lobby, headed back toward the door to the stage.

  Up front, Nate quietly conversed with the “Count Your Blessings” chick. As the ear torture ended, she rose and headed up the aisle. Myles called out softly as she came by, “Hey, nice audition.”

  She stopped. “Thanks. Are you auditioning?”

  “Hadn’t thought about it. I’m here doing a story for the paper. Have you got a minute to chat with me?”

  “Sure.” She dropped into a chair beside him. “I’m Charlotte Ballard.”

  “Myles Stewart. So is this your first audition or have you done this for a while?”

  “Definitely not my first. I’ve been doing community theater off and on for about four years now. A lot of the folks here tonight have been in it a lot longer than that.”

  “Yeah?”

  “The Madrigal is important around here. Once the word hit the grapevine that it was in danger, the pressure was on to get the best of the best to auditions. Take this guy.” She nodded to indicate a blond guy that replaced the off-key gentleman.

  “I’m Tucker McGee, and I’ll be auditioning for the role of Phil.”

  “What’re you singing, Tucker?” Nate asked.

  “‘Happy Holidays’.”

  The music started and Tucker launched into the number.

  Charlotte dropped her voice. “He’s been doing this since he was a kid. He’s part of the Old Guard talent.”

  Tucker was good. His vocal tone and expression were completely on point, and more importantly, he could move. Like, Danny Kaye himself kind of rhythm.

  “Color me impressed,” Myles murmured.

  “Tucker is guaranteed to be Phil. He’s been the lead for anything requiring dancing for…well, ever it seems like.”

  Another woman passed Myles on the inside aisle, moving with slow deliberation toward the stage door, an expression caught somewhere between nostalgia and dread. There was a story there. There was, he suspected, a story for a great many of the people auditioning tonight. Individual connections to the Madrigal.

  “Oh!” Charlotte exclaimed softly, laying a hand on Myles’ arm to draw his attention to the woman in the aisle. “Now this is interesting. That’s Tyler Edison. She hasn’t been on stage in eight years but she used to be amazing. Nobody in town can dance like her.”

  “Eight years, huh? I thought you said you’d only been doing this for four.”

  “I have. But I’m a local. Around here, Tyler is legend.”

  “Has she been gone?”

  “Oh no, she runs the hardware store. It’s been in her family for generations.”

  “So why the long hiatus?”

  “The whole thing was really sad. She was half of the community theater power couple. From the time they were seventeen, if there was a love story, they were the leads. Which was easy for them because they were crazy about each other, so most of it wasn’t acting. Everybody figured they’d get married after college.”

  “I gather that dream went poof.”

  “Both his parents were killed in a car crash. He just wasn’t right after that. One day he just up and left her, without a word. Never came back to Wishful. Tyler hasn’t been on stage since. Too painful, I guess.”

  “Apparently the theater is more important than heartbreak.”

  Perspective of the players, he thought, making another note about doing a series of interviews with each of the final cast members to give that human touch for what the theater meant to them.

  “Just you wait. She’s going to be amazing,” Charlotte assured him.

  Myles didn’t have to wait long before Tyler came out to center stage, Miss Gorgeous on her heels. The pair of them held cardboard fans and sported identical grins.

  “Tyler Edison.” Myles could hear the smile in Nate’s voice. “Well, it’s about damn time you came back. Good to see you.”

  Tyler lifted her hand in a wave.

  “I guess I don’t have to ask which number you two are doing,” he said. “Go on then.”

  The music cued up and they launched in to “Sisters”. Myles forgot he was just watching auditions, so clearly did the two women slide into the roles of Betty and Judy Haynes. The gorgeous brunette played a fabulous Betty, and he found himself wishing for a Phil to banter with over her brown eyes.

  When the number was over, Betty gave Tyler a high five. “Nailed it.”

  Tyler answered with a hip bump. “We’ve still got it.”

  If Nate didn’t cast those two as the female leads, he was insane. They were perfect.

  Myles thought about what the director had said, that the only way to really experience the theater was from the stage. Dancing wasn’t his strong suit, but he had a pretty decent voice that he tended to use only in the shower or on long road trips. If he jumped in and auditioned for Bob, he might get a chance to read with his Betty. Not that he expected to actually get the part, but it’d be worth the effort just for a chance to meet her.

  “So if I decided to actually audition, who do I need to talk to about that?”

  Charlotte pointed at Nate. “Just tell the director. He’ll put you on the list.”

  Mind made up, Myles slid out of his seat and went to talk to Nate.

  ~*~

  “Hey, who’s that new guy sitting with Tucker?”

  From stage left, Piper followed Tyler’s gaze to the card table set up center stage for a reading of the scene in Novello’s where the Haynes sisters first meet Wallace and Davis. The prospective Bob was a bit leaner than Tucker, but just as tall. Brown hair a couple of shades darker than her own flopped endearingly into his eyes, giving him an appealing look that was saved from being too boyish by the clean angles of his jaw. “I don’t know but he’s cute!”

  “Don’t get any ideas,” Tyler groused.

  As if she’d be stupid enough to try to match-make Tyler with some strange guy. She had her limits. “Not for you, for me.”

  “He’s not one of my customers. Maybe he’s new or from one of the surrounding towns?”

  New or nearby were both completely acceptable options in Piper’s mind. In a town of five thousand, the dating pool tended to be shallow, so the arrival of new eligible bachelors merited checking out. Which was terribly Austenesque, but such was the reality of dating in a small town. “Well, I guess we’ll find out in a bit.”

  They waited for their cue to join the boys.

  Piper snaked her hand out to grab Tyler’s and squeezed. “I’m glad you came out tonight.”

  Tyler tipped her head to Piper’s shoulder and sighed softly. “Me too. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be.”

  Oh thank God. Piper had been terrified that she’d made some mistake forcing Tyler into this. “Good. I want to save the Madrigal, but not at the expense of legitimately hurting you.”

  “I’m not that breakable anymore.”

  Piper had her doubts about that.

  “That’s our cue,” Tyler said.

  Saved by the script.

  Piper slid into character as they approached the table, adding a layer of restrained propriety to her usual manner as she introduced herself and her “sister” before taking a seat.

  Unlike the others, she and Tyler didn’t have scripts in their hands. Given Nate had pulled the dialogue straight from the movie, they didn’t need any. Bob didn’t seem to need to check his often and his aggrieved expression
toward Tucker as Phil suggested he had a solid familiarity with the source material himself. Points for him, she decided.

  As Tucker-Phil and Tyler-Judy got up to go dance, Piper fixed an earnest expression on her face, prepared to come clean.

  “You know, I was so surprised to get that letter from Benny,” Bob said.

  “Mr. Wallace, I’m afraid you’ve been brought here under false pretenses.”

  Bob watched her as she went through the explanation, outlining Judy’s deception. His eyes—which were a lovely shade of caramel brown, fringed by those long lashes so often wasted on guys—fired in challenge and amusement as they verbally sparred, scooting their chairs closer together. They were completely in sync, fixed in the roles, which was the best kind of stage chemistry to have. It made the role less like acting and more like just living under really bright lights.

  “Mr. Wallace, since the chances of our seeing each other again is extremely remote, I don’t think it’s important to go on arguing.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Bob said, and laid his hand over hers.

  Piper felt the zing all the way down to her toes. Maybe not just stage chemistry.

  “Good!” Nate’s praise from the auditorium floor shattered the moment, making it too weird to flip her hand over to lace with his, which she could’ve blamed on the part if the director hadn’t spoken.

  Bob let her go and rose as she did, while the next quartet got set up to read. He followed Piper into the wings.

  “That was well done,” she told him. “Are you a White Christmas fan?”

  “It’s my sister’s favorite Christmas movie, so it’s been part of the holiday rotation forever. I’m Myles by the way.” He smiled at her, and Piper felt a pleasant flutter in her belly.

  Nerves? This guy was making her nervous? Holy crap, when was the last time that had happened?

  “Piper.”

  “So are you new or part of the Old Guard?” Myles asked. At her questioning look, he said, “I was chatting with Charlotte earlier. She mentioned a lot of the people coming out tonight were long-running players in WCT productions.”

  “Oh, well, yes. I grew up in this theater. I’ve been acting since elementary school.”

  “Not surprised. I figure you’re a shoe-in for Betty.”

  Piper was inclined to agree, but it wasn’t the kind of thing you said out loud. It was both rude and bad luck. “What about you? I know you’re new in town.”

  His brows lifted. “Do I have a sign?”

  She grinned. “You’re either new in town or you have the best immune system this side of Jackson.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m a nurse. If you’d lived in Wishful any real length of time, you’d have eventually rotated through my clinic. Everyone does.”

  “Oh.” He gave a self-deprecatory laugh. “Yeah, guilty as charged. I’ve only been here about two and a half weeks. Still finding my footing in the community.”

  There’d been no ring on his finger during the reading, but some people might’ve taken it off to stay in character. She wasn’t about to come right out and ask.

  “Are you new to theater?”

  “I am. This is, in fact, my first audition ever.”

  Piper felt a pang of disappointment. He’d done well, no question, but for this show they needed the absolute best of the best, and that meant an actor with more experience. Too bad. She’d have enjoyed playing Betty to his Bob.

  As the second quartet finished the reading, Nate hollered for her to come back out as part of a new group. She shot Myles a flirtatious smile. “Duty calls. Welcome to Wishful, Myles. I hope to see you around.”

  “Count on it,” he called after her.

  She held in the instinctive fist pump and took her place on stage.

  ~*~

  He’d won the lead. Myles was reasonably sure no one was more shocked about it than him. His whim had just claimed his nights and weekends for the next three months. But given those nights and weekends would be spent playing opposite the lovely Piper Parish, he couldn’t find much reason to complain. He’d wanted to get to know her. Hell, as Bob to her Betty, he’d even get to kiss her. Were stage kisses different from real kisses? He didn’t know. But, he looked forward to learning.

  The auditorium was full of cast, crew, and musicians, all overflowing with an infectious, effervescent optimism. The general mood made him feel like whistling a tune and executing a little dance step as he strode up the center aisle toward the stage. Not that he really knew any dance steps outside the waltz, foxtrot, cha cha, and swing, and he wasn’t sure how much he’d retained since eighth grade. Cotillion didn’t exactly prepare one for this brand of choreography. But as Bob, he didn’t have that much dancing to do. That was all on Tucker McGee. He and Tyler were already executing some kind of complicated dance move on one side of the stage.

  Piper strode out from one of the wings. Stage right, Myles reminded himself. Part of doing this was learning the right lingo. He headed up on stage via the orchestra pit stairs, trying to decide whether to shoot for nonchalance or I’m-a-newb-please-help-me-navigate-unfamiliar-waters.

  She looked up as he approached and whatever clever thing he might’ve said bled right out of his brain.

  “Hi.” Oh brilliant, Stewart. Way to impress the girl.

  “So you survived auditions,” she said. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. It was…unexpected. But I’m excited. Glad to be here. Hopefully you can share your greater experience and keep me from mucking anything up.”

  But Piper wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. Silence fell around them. Myles looked around for the reason, thinking maybe Nate had come in and the actors were going automatically silent out of respect or something. Across the stage, Tyler had stopped, having obviously just come out of a turn. She stared at something in the back of the auditorium. As the silence stretched out, more of the cast seemed to follow her example. Myles looked toward the back, seeing a guy standing just inside the lobby doors. He seemed suspended, waiting for something. The waves of tension between the newcomer and Tyler were almost strong enough to push Myles back a step. This had to be the heartbreaker Charlotte told him about.

  The floorboards of the stage popped, and the tableau unfroze.

  Finding out the details about what the hell was going on seemed like a good excuse to keep talking to Piper. Before he could make an attempt, Nate requested an attention grabber on the piano. The pianist banged out a little riff, calling rehearsal to order.

  “…choreographer will be here on Friday, so the name of the game this week is to learn all your music and start learning your lines. The schedule is in your script packets.” Nate picked one up, waved it. “Now, if any of you are familiar with the actual stage production of White Christmas The Musical, you will know that it bears little resemblance to the movie we all know and love. I chose this show based on nostalgia. White Christmas is my favorite Christmas movie, and it’s incredibly well-known. People hear we’re putting on a production, that’s the story they expect to see. So I contacted the Irving Berlin estate and requested permission to make my own adaptation of the movie script. Given we are a town of less than five thousand, they don’t have a lot of fear this will become a raging success, so they actually said yes. That said, it’s a one shot deal. We get one three week run of the show, and that’s that. Permanently retired after that. But at least we’ll be adhering as faithfully as possible to the actual plot and script of the movie, with minor changes to facilitate our set limitations. So come and get ’em and let’s get started.”

  Myles headed to the back of the line, intending to position himself beside Piper, the better to pick her brain.

  She stood close to Tucker, her voice low. “We have to do something. We’ll never pull off the show if Tyler isn’t at the top of her game.”

  Instead of butting into their conversation, Myles hung back, shamelessly eavesdropping, which was a reporter’s default setting.

  �
��What exactly do you propose we do? Brody’s back after all this time. He’s got as much right to be here as any of us,” Tucker said.

  She gave him a withering look. “We’ll agree to disagree on that.”

  “It should be fine. He’s just my understudy. I can run interference, keep them separated, if need be.”

  “To keep this from being a blood-letting, that might be wise.”

  The two of them looked across the stage to where the guy—Brody presumably—was attempting to talk to Tyler in the line. Myles could practically see clouds of condensed air rolling off her for all the luck the guy was having. His writer brain began churning. No question, this was the guy who’d broken Tyler’s heart. And she was all kinds of pissed to be seeing him again.

  Potential scenarios flew through his head, how he’d construct the story, what kind of ending he’d expect. Would Wishful be getting a show within a show? Given the way small towns seemed to operate and the fact that people still remembered what had happened close to a decade later, it seemed like a good possibility. Not that he’d be airing their personal conflicts in the paper—he was a journalist, not a gossip columnist. But he couldn’t stop wondering whether Tyler and Brody would be able to put aside their personal crap in the name of saving the theater, or if Tyler would bail, leaving the role of Judy to her understudy Charlotte.

  Time would tell.

  ~*~

  In all her years living in Wishful, Piper had never actually been to the offices of The Wishful Observer. She’d seen the doors, of course, facing Oxford Street, but she’d never had reason to go inside or even much wonder about the people who worked there. She read the paper like everybody else and just kind of accepted that it would come out when it came out—which, the last few years, was three times a week. But now she had a face attached to to the paper. A very nice face she’d been running lines with for two weeks now. And she was curious. She was also on a mission.

  An older woman looked up as Piper stepped inside. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Myles.”

  “He’s on the phone just now, but if you want to take a seat just over there, you’ll be able to see him when he gets off.” She gestured to a small waiting area across from a glass wall.