Lies You Never Told Me(49)

I hold my breath, listening carefully to the opening lines. I hear the servants start to squabble; I hear Trajan as Tybalt, growling angrily at Benvolio. My pulse beats so loud in my ears it threatens to drown out everything else.

“Hey.”

The voice is a bare whisper. I look up to see Brynn, there in her simple gray dress, her hair covered by the wimple. My fingers twist nervously around the fabric of my skirt. We haven’t spoken in a week—the longest we’ve ever gone.

Her dark eyes are uncertain as they move across my face.

“Break a leg,” she says finally.

Tears spring to my eyes. This isn’t how I’ve ever imagined this moment—barely speaking with my best friend, both of us still licking our wounds. I want to hug her, to laugh about our opening-night jitters. But that’s not where we are right now.

“You too,” I whisper.

We don’t have time for anything else. She’s up. She and Laura hurry out to center stage and start their dialogue.

I take a deep breath.

I hear my cue. It’s time. I step into the light.

“How now? Who calls?” My voice rings loud and true.

We’re amazing. We hit all our marks, nail our lines. Brynn’s daffy nurse gets big laughs from the audience; I hear audible gasps during the big fight scene when Mercutio and Tybalt both die. My nerves disappear as I get into the rhythm of the lines. The poetry of the language is so familiar by now it’s like a second heartbeat. My tongue moves deftly across the words, spinning them, twisting them, making them sad or joyous or wistful.

The audience roars its approval as the curtains draw closed. Two at a time, we all step out to take our bows; Frankie and I go out last of all. My feet barely seem to touch the scratched wooden stage. I catch Brynn’s eye for a moment, and she smiles at me.

Nothing has ever felt so good, so right.



* * *



? ? ?

We’re still in our makeup and costumes when we go out to the lobby to greet our friends and family. Brynn’s parents and siblings crowd around her, feverishly snapping pictures. I recognize Kendall’s family, too; her brother and sister are chasing each other around. Nessa Washington kisses her girlfriend, Tamika.

“Elyse!”

It’s my mom. I know it’s her only because I know her voice; I can’t see her face behind the enormous bouquet she’s wielding. I laugh and take it, cradling it in my arms.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“You were so good,” she says. She sounds genuinely surprised. “Where’d you learn to act like that?”

I bite the corner of my lip. A part of me—the part that’s still holding on to every resentment, every frustration of the last ten years—wants to say something cutting, to point out that if she’d come out of her stupor a little sooner she might’ve known I could perform. But she looks so vulnerable, standing there in a skirt she’s had since before I was born, her fingernails gnawed to the quick. I hug her tight.

“I’m really glad you came,” I say.

Before she can answer, Aiden steps up to the two of us.

I can’t help but go tense. But his dimples are in full force when he shakes her hand. “Are you Elyse’s mom? It’s so great to meet you. I’m the director, Mr. Hunter.”

“Oh,” she says meekly. I wince a little. Her small talk is rusty. But Aiden seems unfazed.

“She’s a special girl,” he says. “One of my most talented.”

“Oh, thank you. I mean, yes, she is,” Mom says. She shifts her weight. “Thank you so much. She told me you took a leap of faith in casting her. I’m so glad you did.”

He shakes his head. “She’s too modest. She earned this. And she proved herself.”

I see some of the others slipping back to the green room to change out of their costumes, so I take the opportunity to break up the awkwardness. “Hey, Mom, I need to go get cleaned up, and then a bunch of us are going out for coffee to celebrate. See you at home?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” She gives Aiden a little nod. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hunter.”

“Nice to meet you too.” He glances at his watch. “I’d better go back there and make sure everything’s put away.”

We walk back into the theater together. It’s quiet—I can hear shrieks of laughter coming from the green room, back behind stage left, but the stage is dark and empty. We climb up the steps.

“Tonight was . . .” I start, but before I can finish the thought he’s taken me by the hand, and pulled me behind the curtains. He cups my chin with his hand.

“Amazing,” he whispers. “You were amazing.”

We kiss. The beaded cap that’s held my hair in place comes off, and my hair spills around my shoulders. He picks up handfuls of it, runs his fingers through it.

“All night long it was all I could do not to touch you,” he breathes into my ear. “You’ve never been so beautiful.”

I close my eyes. Everything else vanishes—Brynn, the performance, my mom. Everything’s gone except for our two bodies, pressed together in the dark.

Something rustles nearby. I freeze, my muscles taut and trembling. Aiden pulls away a little.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

I untangle myself from his arms and take a step toward the noise. “It sounded like . . . like someone brushed against the curtain.” I pause for a moment, and then quickly dart forward and pull back the velvet.