Stage Fright (Bit Parts) (21 page)

I braced myself, expecting to feel his fangs at my neck.  To my surprise, he backed away.  “As you wish,” he said softly.

I lowered my chin.  “Really?”

“Not every human wants what we have to offer.”  He kept his eyes on the ground.  With his drooping spine and his hands shoved into his pockets, he looked exactly like a jilted lover.  “Having you offer yourself willingly will be much sweeter than forcing myself on you.”

Will
be?  “Don’t get your hopes up,” I snapped.

I tried to step around him, but he blocked me in.  “I should glamour you into forgetting all of this…” his eyes brushed mine, making me shiver “…but I can’t bear to have you forget who I am.”  A touch of humor entered his features.  “If I have your word that you won’t tell a soul, I’ll let you keep your memory.”

I swallowed and nodded.  “I promise.”

“Good.”  At last he stepped aside, and with a wave of his hand, indicated the steps leading to the main floor.  I hurried past him, terrified that this was a trick and that he’d grab me from behind.

When my foot touched the first stair, he called my name.  I hesitated.

“Will you at least stay on as the director for
16 Voices
?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Not even if I promise not to touch you?”

I bit my lip, tempted for a moment, then shook my head.  “No.”

“It’s a shame.  Your direction would have made it topnotch.”

My fingers curled around the handrail.  I’d promised Isaiah and Perry that I would be their spy, and I didn’t want to disappoint them.  Especially not Isaiah.  Although I’d have to face Victor’s hunger every time I was in the theater, I might find out who was creating the rogues and put a stop to it.  Then there was the play.  I’d grown to love it, and couldn’t bear to give it up now.  “Do you promise that I wouldn’t have to be your blood partner?”

“Of course,” he said quickly.

I took a deep breath.  “Okay.  I’ll do it.”

A smile touched his lips.  “Thank you.  You have no idea how much this means to me.”

I hurried up the stairs before he could change his mind and keep me locked in the basement.

I searched the theater for my coat and purse, but only found the
16 Voices
script on the floor near the broken table.  Before I could grow frantic, Martin came in from the lobby carrying my things.  “Looking for these?”

“Yes!”  I snatched them out of his hands.

“So I guess you’ll be leaving for New York soon.”

“No.”

He blinked.  “You’re turning down Victor
Stuyvesant
?”

“Of the New York Stuyvesants.”  I couldn’t prevent the eye roll.  “Yeah, I get it.”

“I don’t think you do.”  He looked at me from over the top of his round glasses.  “I’ve been in Hedda’s service for over thirty years.  She takes good care of me.  When Anton, the vampire at Mercury Hall before Marcella, decided to move south and join the Charbonneaus, he tried to force me to come along.  But Hedda wouldn’t allow it.  She said that I stayed with the Widderstroms.  So Anton left me alone, and I ended up with Marcella.”  He puffed out his chest a little.  “I belong to Hedda.  Not to anyone else.”

He sounded like working for Hedda was the same thing as belonging to an exclusive country club, but to me, it sounded more like he was a company car or a key to the executive bathroom.  A fringe benefit.

“No, you couldn’t do better than the Stuyvesants,” Martin said.  “And an aspiring actress couldn’t do better than New York City.  I’m sure you’ve dreamed of appearing on Broadway.”

I had, of course, but only if I could do it on my own.  “I won’t be
anyone’s
blood partner.  I don’t need a vampire to make me successful.”

He barked out a laugh.  “Of course you don’t.  Because you’re the most talented actress in the country.  I’m sure you get a thousand e-mails a day offering you parts.”

My face burned.  Detroit was hardly a theater hotspot, so the opportunities to appear onstage were very few.  Between my role in
King Lear
and my fateful Cipher audition, I hadn’t had a single callback.  Even the auditions were limited.  If I took a chance and went to New York, something I both longed for and dreaded, there were be more openings but also a lot more competition.

Martin ran his fingers through his bushy, white beard.  “Do you know what I did before I met Hedda Widderstrom?  I was a music teacher!  For ten bucks an hour, I’d give any brat a guitar lesson.”

I shoved my arms into the sleeves of my coat.  “So instead of trying to start your own band, you took the easy way out and partnered with a vampire.”  I marched through the house doors and into the lobby

He followed me.  “I did try to make it on my own!  I wrote songs and made demos.  I even moved to the west coast to connect with other musicians.  Nothing happened until I met Hedda.  She’s the one who opened doors for me.”

I whirled to face him, tired of the excuses.  “You traded your soul to be in a band I can’t even remember the name of.”

“Watch your mouth,” he said sharply.  “Cosmic Dream charted two albums in the 60’s.  I was nominated for a Grammy and inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.”

As much as I tried, I couldn’t remember any of the songs his band had played.  I doubted if even my parents would recall them.  As far as modern music was concerned, Martin’s career was as washed out as the tie-dye t-shirt he was wearing.  “Was it worth it?” I asked.

He glared at me.  “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Well, when you’re forty-three and still trying to make a name for yourself, see if you ask that question.  There comes a point in your life when you’ll be grateful for any opportunity you’re given.”

“Not me.”

He folded his arms over his stomach.  “You’re too young to understand this, but
everyone
gives their soul away.”  He nodded at the glass doors beyond which pedestrians hurried down the sidewalk, their heads bent against the wind.  “Most of them do it for the crappy American Dream.  They trade their passion for a steady job that lets them get high from shopping a sale at Wal-Mart and driving a shiny, new SUV to their mcMansions in the burbs.”  Spots of color bloomed in his chubby cheeks.

“That’s not for me,” I argued.

He shook his head, bitterly amused.  “Such a passionate idealist!  I guess you can afford to be since you’re still young and talented.  But in a dozen years, that fire in your heart will burn out.  At thirty, you’ll be married, or you’ll be on your fourth lover, or you’ll be all alone with your sixteen cats.  When you turn forty, you’ll wonder when you settled for mediocre.  At fifty, you’ll try to recapture your youth by directing community theater.  By sixty, you’ll be drinking yourself into an early grave to get over the pain of your lost dreams.”

Angrily, I said, “You think you can predict my future?”

He laughed.  “Okay, prove me wrong!  Pack your bags and head to New York.  Just you against the thousands of other young actresses all desperate to make it on Broadway.  Then what?  You’ll sleep with a director in order to land a part?  You’ll claw your way to the top for ten minutes of fame?  Believe me, everyone sells out if the price is right.”  He smirked.  “At least, the smart ones do.”

Deep inside, I felt a pang at the truth.  Not that I’d admit it.  “I’m still not willing to be a vampire’s dinner.”

“Take it from someone who’s been where you are now.  Victor’s your ticket to success.  Don’t throw that away.”

“Thanks for the advice,” I said sourly.

He dismissed me with a wave of his hand and a noise of disgust before disappearing back into the theater.

Andrew came through the front doors carrying a pair of coffee containers.  “Here,” he said, handing me one.  “Hurry and drink it while it’s still lukewarm.”

I sipped the coffee as I hustled him outside.  “It’s stone cold!  How long ago did you buy this?”  As I threw the coffee into a trash bin, I noticed the paper bag tucked under his arm.  “Let me guess, the coffee shop was next to a comic book store?”  No wonder he’d been so eager to fetch my espresso.

He smiled guiltily.  “I bought the coffee
after
I went to the comic store, but before I met Charles in the coffee shop.”  His smile faded.  “Cassie, there is something seriously wrong with him.”  Andrew took my elbow and dragged me into the doorway of a nail shop, and out of the stream of pedestrians.  “I’ve seen him drunk before, but this time he was out of his mind.”  His forehead creased.  “He was raving about vampires at the Bleak Street.”

I nervously bit my lip.  Between threatening to light Victor’s play on fire and spilling the vampires’ secrets, Charles seemed desperate to seal his own fate.

“He kept insisting that I go with him to meet some guy named Victor,” Andrew said.  “That’s the playwright, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, well, Charles said that he wanted me to, quote, ‘be nice to Victor.’  Because if Victor liked me well enough, then he might change his mind about Charles directing
16 Voices
.”  Andrew’s dark eyes reflected his confusion.  “Isn’t Charles was already directing that play?”

“Not anymore,” I said.

Andrew shrugged.  “Anyway, I had this creepy feeling that Charles was trying to pimp me out to Victor.”

My stomach dipped.  I wanted to argue that he was wrong, and that Charles would never do such a thing, but the words lodged in my throat.  Instead, I said, “What did you tell him?”

“I believe my exact words were, ‘Go to hell.’”

“Good.”  I slipped my arm through Andrew’s and drew him back out onto the busy sidewalk.  “Stay away from Charles and Victor.  The Bleak Street, too, for that matter.”

“I’ll say the same thing to you,” he said.  “Cassie, I don’t want you involved in that play.  Something about it worries me.”

How to break the news?  “I’m actually the new director.”

He stopped walking.  “What?”

I tugged on his arm to get him moving again.  “Victor offered me the job after he fired Charles.”

“Cassie, no!”

“Don’t worry.  I’ll be fine.”  I kept my crossed fingers deep in my pocket where Andrew wouldn’t see them.  “Besides, a steady paycheck means you can shop at Whole Foods.”

“Don’t try to buy me off!”

When we reached my car, I reached into my purse to get my keys and my fingertips brushed against something large and flat.  Mystified, I pulled out a small, manila envelope addressed to me.

Inside was a picture of the Bleak Street Theatre.  Written in black Sharpie across the top was, “Become my blood partner and this place is yours.”  My jaw dropped.  If anything could break my resolve, it was the chance to own the Bleak Street.  How had Victor known?

 “What’s that about?” Andrew asked, frowning.

I shoved the picture back into the envelope.  “It’s nothing.”  I forced myself to smile, but inside, my guts were churning as I realized what the message really meant.

Victor might respect my decision for now, but he was not giving up.

Chapter Fifteen

By the time we reached my uncle’s restaurant, Andrew had given up on making my car’s heater work.  Instead, he wiped down the fogging windshield with the sleeve of his jacket every few minutes.  When I hit a bump while turning into the parking lot, the dangling, side-view mirror clattered against the passenger’s door.

He cringed.  “This thing’s a death trap.” 

I pulled into a parking spot.  “You don’t know anything about fixing cars, do you?”

“I got an A in high school auto shop, but all we did was change tires and replace the battery.”

“Not helpful,” I grumbled.  As I gathered my purse, I said, “Don’t worry about picking me up after work.  I’m hanging out with a friend tonight.”  I tried to hide my smile at the word ‘friend’, but Andrew caught it.

“Ah, a
friend
.”  His eyes glowed.  “Anyone I know?”

I shrugged.  “Remember that guy we saw at the Lamplighter Saturday night?”

“Tall, dark, and gorgeous?  Dreadlocks?  Shoulders out to here?”  Andrew drew his hands apart.  “Nope.  Don’t remember a thing.”

My smile widened.  “His name’s Isaiah Griffin, and we had coffee on Sunday night.”  Unfortunately, the story about being rescued from rogue vampires would have to wait.  For now.

“You’ve been holding out on me!” Andrew scolded playfully.  “When you get home, you’re not going to bed until I get all the details.”

“There aren’t many details yet, but he does own a comic store.  Remember that picture of Holy Comics I texted you?  That’s his place.”

Andrew put his hands to his heart and rolled his eyes skyward.  “Oh.  My.  God!  You’ve met the perfect man!”  He grabbed my shoulders.  “You are
not
to let this guy go, you understand me?  When you two get married, you have to make me your man of honor!”

I smacked him with the back of my hand, but he just grinned and hummed the wedding march.

If I hadn’t needed the money, I would have traded shifts with another waitress.  My eventful morning at Mercury Hall had wrung me out, and I was in no mood to sling shish kabobs and Greek salads.  As I entered Milos Coney Island, however, the smell of roasting meat and French fries greeted me like old friends.  My Uncle Mike stood in his familiar spot behind the cash register, reaching around his enormous belly to cash out a customer.  The bright lighting, cheerful murals, and sounds of conversation were an island of comfort in a world gone mad.

As I tied on my apron, I glanced at the clock, noting with dismay the long hours that stood between now and the time I’d finally see the broad shoulders, kissable lips, and soulful, amber eyes of my favorite vampire hunter.  Already, my stomach was fluttering in anticipation.

To keep my mind off the time, I considered
16 Voices
.  I needed to focus on staging.  Something dynamic but not ridiculous.  Obviously, Victor’s wire fu idea had sucked, but a simple, proscenium stage wasn’t any better.

I smiled absently at a pair of men as I refilled their coffee mugs.  What would be dynamic without being ridiculous?  A series of drop down sets?  Risers?  When one of the men turned the lazy Susan to reach the cream, my eyes lit up.  A revolving stage! Yes!  That’s
exactly
what the play needed.