Alicia locked the front door of her apartment and took a deep breath, scrubbing her fingernails through her hair. Tossing her bag onto the sofa, she walked back to the bedroom, unbuttoning her suit jacket and shrugging it off as she went.
With most auditions, she immediately banished all thought of the experience from her mind when she tossed her pages in the trash and walked out the door. It was pointless to dwell on it: either she had impressed them or not. She was either what they had in mind or she wasn’t. There wasn’t a thing she could do about it once they had thanked her and said, “We’ll be in touch.” The clean-slate-ness of it all appealed to her in a perverse sort of way. She had built her life as a perpetually rolling stone, growing comfortable with never knowing what was next, rootless and ranging.
She hung up the jacket and smiled to herself as she undid the zipper at the back of her skirt, her fingers brushing bare flesh as she let the garment drop to the floor. Her naughty little secret had done the trick, she reflected. Or she hoped it had. It had felt right, anyway.
Stop. Thinking. About. The. Audition.
Seriously, this wasn’t like her at all.
Putting away her suit, Alicia grabbed a light jersey tank dress and dropped it over her head, ruffling her fingers through her hair and stretching her arms overhead.
Sod the knickers, Colin’s deep voice said in her imagination. The thought sent a wicked thrill through her and she closed her eyes, envisioning his solid body pressed up behind her, his head lowered to taste her neck…
Her phone rang.
Huffing a frustrated breath through her nose, Alicia hurried back into the living room and dug her phone out of her bag. Glancing at the screen, her eyebrows shot up. “Hey Melissa, what’s up?”
“What the hell did you do in that audition?”
Alicia froze, eyes wide, gut churning. “Um. Why?”
“They called me right after you left. It’s yours if you want it. They were blown away.”
Alicia closed her eyes and silently danced in place for a few seconds. Regaining her composure, she said, “That is fantastic news. It looks like a great part.”
“It is a great part. One possible snag, but I don’t think you’ll have a problem with it. There’s a nudity clause in the contract. You okay with that?”
Rolling her eyes, Alicia thought for a moment. “How much skin and for how long?”
“Waist up, just a few seconds.”
Chewing on a fingernail, Alicia mulled over this new wrinkle. “How’s the money?”
Melissa named a sum that beggared anything Alicia had ever been offered before. “What do you think?”
Alicia held her breath for a moment. “I think I’d be an idiot not to take it. Tell them yes.”
Loosening his tie as he walked through his house to his kitchen, Colin rolled his shoulders, trying to release the tension in them that had hardened his muscles ever since the afternoon. Having spent far too much time at the office crafting the e-mail to ask Alicia to the gala, something impatient and irrational in him wanted a response right away. Putting his laptop bag on a chair, he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
Nothing.
Bollocks to this. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was after six. She was probably already at the theater for the evening’s performance. The show was finishing up its run this weekend, so she must have to focus. Who knew when he would hear from her? Or if he would at all.
No, she had said she wanted to see him again. Whether or not she was up for something as formal as the gala was another question, though. It was a hell of a leap from drinks to black-tie.
Nothing for it but to do something while he waited. Walking to the stairs, he went up them two at a time and swung into his bedroom. Shedding his business attire, he put on an old tee shirt, running shorts, and trainers. A jog would clear his head. He hoped.
Locking his door and walking down the steps past the little garden patch, he noticed that his plants wanted watering. He would have to do that when he got back. It had been so hot lately, with no rain to give the greenery relief. Setting out at a slow jog down his street, he turned right at the end and headed up First Street toward the Capitol. Normally, he would head south towards the Navy Yard, but he felt a visceral tug toward the part of town where he knew Alicia would be taking the stage.
Muscles loosening, he began to run harder, heart pounding and arms pumping. Reaching D Street, he turned left, away from the route to the Folger. Which was silly. There was no need to try to avoid looking like a stalker. He could run laps around the bloody building and never see her during a performance. Instead, he headed toward the East end of the National Mall. Reaching the long expanse of park, he headed west past the National Museum of the American Indian, then the Air and Space Museum, passing pickup soccer games and dodging slow-moving packs of tourists. Sweat poured off his face, and his shirt stuck to his chest. His hair, shaggy and needing a trim, hung across his forehead, and he pushed it back with impatient fingers.
Turning along Fourteenth Street, he noticed a young woman following his progress, her eyes locked on his moving form. He almost chuckled to himself when he realized how his brain immediately dismissed her as not-Alicia.
Maybe she’s written back. Shoving his hand into the pocket of his running shorts, he realized he left his phone at the house.
Digging deep for greater speed, he turned again in front of the Museum of American History and headed back toward home.
Kathleen paused in putting on the dramatic eye makeup she wore for her role as Lady Capulet and looked at Alicia in the mirror of their shared dressing room. “Alicia, hon, either you have a feral vibrator in your bag or your phone is going nuts.”
“Crap. I can’t get it. This stupid thing has gotten twisted again.” Alicia’s costume, intentionally somewhat ragged and shapeless, had a tendency to get caught on itself. Alicia strained to figure out what the problem was now, twisting her shoulders around to see behind her.
“Let me,” said Wendy, who played Lady Montague and was the other occupant of the tiny, shared dressing room.
“Nah, I’ll figure it out.”
Kathleen shot her an exasperated look and got up from the chair in front of the makeup mirror. “Let people help you out once in a while.”
“I did. I let you help me at the donor party.”
“And I nearly died of shock. You’re like a goddamn island.” Kathleen grabbed Alicia’s bag and began to rummage in it for the phone.
Alicia glanced at Wendy, who grimaced. “She’s not wrong.”
“Okay…if you could figure out how it’s caught, thanks.” Alicia felt churlish, but Wendy stepped forward, her clever hands swiftly finding the problem. Alicia sighed with relief.
“Thanks. Now I can actually move.”
“So…do you want to answer this or these?” Kathleen asked, holding up Alicia’s phone with one hand and dangling her black lace panties from the other.
Alicia bit back annoyance and snatched both from Kathleen as Wendy’s eyes went wide and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Thanks, but the data plan for La Perla is too rich for my blood, let’s just put those back…” Alicia stuffed the underwear into the bottom of her bag.
“Can I ask…why you’re carrying a thong in your purse?” Wendy asked, eyes goggling.
“Secret weapon in an audition,” Alicia said, unlocking her phone and looking at the screen.
“Oooh,” Kathleen murmured. “How’d it go?” Her face went from eager to worried in an instant. “And please, please, please tell me this has nothing to do with any kind of casting couch.”
“It went well, actually. And no way, no how to the casting couch. It was just…personal sensory stuff. Nobody but me knew.” Alicia dismissed the text message appointment reminder from her hair salon and saw she had an e-mail. She opened the app and her eyes widened as they scanned the screen.
“Well you go, girl. And looks like you got some more interesting news if your face is anything to go by,” Wendy noted.
“A message from my other secret weapon.” She looked from one woman to the other. “Now…do I really want to go to a black-tie function?”
“Why not?” Wendy asked.
“I barely know the guy. This seems a little much.”
“Who is it?” Wendy asked.
Alicia adopted an exaggerated British accent. “That bloke I met at the donor party.”
Kathleen’s brows shot up. “The guy I had to rescue you from? The asshole?”
Alicia squirmed. “Well, turns out he’s not so much of an asshole. Anyway, I’ve got nothing to wear. Closest thing I have to black tie is the cocktail dress I wore the night I met him.”
“Olga’s,” Kathleen said.
“And who is Olga?” Alicia asked, blinking.
“Olga runs a top-notch consignment place in Palisades. Go to Olga. You’ll get a screaming deal on a beautiful dress.”
“Hmm. Worth a try. I guess I know how I’m spending tomorrow morning,” Alicia said.
A brisk knock at the dressing room door was followed by the assistant stage manager’s, “Twenty minutes, ladies.”
“Thank you,” the three women chorused automatically, and the sound of his feet moved down the hall to the next door.
“Can I come with?” Kathleen asked. “This mouse wants to help Cinderella get ready for the ball.”
Turning down his street, Colin slowed to a walk, chest heaving and sweat trickling in rivulets down his body. Letting himself into his house, he walked back to the kitchen and grabbed the large watering can from the back deck. After filling it at the sink, he took it outside to water the tiny patch of garden by his front door. Colin fancied he could see the little Japanese maple perk up in front of his eyes. Satisfied with his miniature rain shower, he went back into the house and replaced the can.
Opening the refrigerator, he took out a bottle of beer. With deliberate motions, he opened a drawer, took out an opener, popped the top off, and took a long pull. He took a deep breath and finally picked his phone up off of the counter, walking to his little back garden. The deck that extended from the house had a pair of chairs and a small table. Lowering himself into one of the chairs, he unlocked his phone and checked his e-mail.
He smiled. A message marked “Alicia Johnson” was at the top of his inbox.
Yeah, settle down. Maybe it’s a “no,” he told himself. He tapped his phone’s screen.
To: Colin St. Cyr
From: Alicia Johnson
Subject: Re: Gala
Wow. Cinderella is going to get to scrub all her old-age makeup off and go to the ball? Terribly exciting. You don’t know it yet, but I actually owe you one. So, I will accept. With one condition. I need to find a dress that won’t break the bank. I’ve looked at the pictures on the web from last year’s event, and it looks really fancy.
But never fear. One of my castmates has given me a lead on a place where hopefully I can pick something up that will work. Otherwise, I’ll need to consult some magical forest creatures to make me something stunning. I have it on good authority from the Disney corporation that mice and small birds are really good at that kind of thing. Do you know any? Or is it just rats and pigeons here like it would be in New York?
Yours in Woodland Makeovers,
—Alicia
Colin almost laughed out loud. He had started to wonder if he had been idealizing this woman: letting her looks and talent dazzle him while he filled in the gaps in his knowledge about her with imagined intelligence and humor.
He hadn’t been wrong. She was stunning, and she was clever. And funny. He couldn’t wait to see her again.
And there, at the end of the e-mail, she had given him her phone number.
Score.
Alicia, Kathleen, and Wendy piled into the dressing room, laughing. “A standing ovation on a Thursday!” Kathleen crowed.
“Aww. Guys,” Wendy said, her eyes bright. “Only four more performances and we’ll all be off doing other things.”
“Or doing other people,” Kathleen said, bumping her shoulder into Alicia’s as she reached for a container of makeup removing wipes. “Which…our Miss Johnson has some ’splaining to do.”
“Me?” Alicia asked innocently, plucking a wipe from Kathleen’s container.
“You, thief,” Kathleen said, pulling out a wipe and slamming the container shut, moving it out of Alicia’s reach. “You spent all of the time before curtain composing an apparently very important e-mail.”
Alicia took off her cap and tossed it on the vanity, wiping the makeup off her face. “Not much to tell.”
Wendy rolled her eyes as she unzipped her costume. “No more of that ‘I am an island’ stuff. We’re your friends. Friends share. They tell stories. So, tell.”
Kathleen pointed finger guns at Alicia. “She’s right. Dish, Friendo.”
Something warm bloomed in Alicia’s chest. “Okay. You know part of it already. That guy at the donor’s party. Thought he was a bit of an asshat, but then he came to my jazz gig with a friend. He was less of an asshat, and his friend was sort of adorably clueless about Shakespeare. He brought his friend to the production and took me out for a drink after. He was definitely not an asshat then. He invited me to the fancy-pants gala thing I now need a gown for.”
“Is he cute?” Wendy asked, pausing in removing her costume. Alicia almost laughed at how her seemingly naïve castmate was completely unselfconscious about being nude from the waist up. And then didn’t laugh when she remembered her new contract.
“No, not cute,” Kathleen said. “Hot. Kind of broodingly hot.” She turned back to Alicia. “And the friend…did he go for drinks too? Is he also hot? If so, can I meet him?” Her eyes were bright with eagerness.
Alicia laughed and ticked off answers to Kathleen’s questions on her fingers. “One: no, he didn’t come for drinks. Two: Definitely hot. But trending to cute. Kind of goofy and adorable. Three: I’ll see what I can do.”
“Mmmm. Maybe I’ll pick up something nice at Olga’s myself. What does this friend do?”
Alicia re-folded the makeup wipe to find a clean side and scrubbed at her face. “Law professor,” she said, attempting nonchalance.
Kathleen turned wide eyes on her. “Seriously? Hot and smart?”
“Pfft. How smart can he be if he hadn’t been to a Shakespeare production before yesterday?” Alicia tossed the wipe in the trash and started to remove her costume.
“He came, though. That means smart and teachable.” A predatory smile spread across Kathleen’s face. “Add eager to please and you have my favorite kind.”
“You’re incorrigible,” Wendy said, pulling on a pair of jeans.
“Hey. I just know what I like,” Kathleen said.
Alicia threw up a hand. “One thing at a time. Let’s find me a perfect dress for this shindig and I’ll see about arranging an introduction to Russell.”
“Ooh. Russell, is it?” Kathleen brought her fingers up in front of her, curled like paws. “Okay, I’m on board, Cinderelly. Let’s get you ready for the ball.”