A Midsummer Night's Fling (Stage Kiss Series Book 1) (5 page)

Then maybe you shouldn't have driven all the way out here.

The driveway for a long narrow road appeared with a sign and an arrow:
RSF Main Stage This Way
 

The drive was shorter than the winding road had been, yet the short path felt eons longer. She flexed her fingers around the steering wheel, sending up a rhythmic
squish, squish-squish, squish
from the rubber.

She pulled into a sandy lot with wooden logs to mark the parking spaces then dropped her head to the wheel of her car. Her heart was pounding, her throat dry and thick with approaching panic.
I can't go. I can't
.
 

She heaved out a long, sighing breath, irritated with herself more than anyone else.

If you aren't going in then why did you put on your favorite audition outfit? Why did you bring a stack of pics and resumes? And
why
did you waste all this time and gas money driving to Pasadena if you aren't going to do the stupid audition?
 

She sat up straight in the car, breathing in, out. In. Out.

In
. Max didn't matter.
Out
. The opportunity mattered.
In
. So what if they were going to work together?
In. Out. In
. So what if she saw him all day –
in, in, in
– every day for the rest of the summer –
 

"Oh,
shit
." She dropped her head down and fought not to hyperventilate, trying to soothe her rampaging heart.
 

You're being ridiculous
.
 

"Yes, brain, I know. Thank you for the input."

Get out of the car. Do the audition. Knock their socks off. Worry about Max later.

"Right."
 

And stop panicking. All right?

"All right."

When Nicola glanced away from her steering wheel she spotted a tall, pink-haired girl leaning against the side of the administration offices for the theater company. As their gazes crossed, the pink-haired girl pushed away from the side of the cottage-like building and sauntered toward Nicola's car.
 

Anxiety clotting in her throat, Nicola managed to pin a game smile on her face as she popped out her driver's side door. "Hello."

"Hiya." Offering her hand to shake, the girl grinned.

Woman, rather, Nicola realized as she stepped closer to exchange greetings. From the painted-on purple jeans and artfully ripped Black Sabbath shirt the stranger wore, Nicola had been thinking 'teenager', but now she figured the woman to be somewhere in her early twenties.

The pink-haired stranger was also startlingly pretty. Gorgeous really. Pillowy red lips, dark eyes with an epicanthic fold, and a straight, leonine nose. From her eyes and bone structure, she appeared to be part Asian, but her hair provided no clue as it was dyed that blinding, bubble gum pink.
 

Nicola nodded politely. "I'm Nicola Charles."
 

"Tierney Haruko." Tierney jerked her chin toward the parking lot. "Max sent me to make sure you found the theater all right. Having a pre-audition breakdown, were we?"

Nicola cleared her throat. "It's an important audition."

Tierney shook her head. "
Actors
." She gave a small
come-along
wave of her hand. "We're meeting everybody at the main stage."

Everybody
? Nicola swallowed.
The
main
stage
? How big was her audition going to be? She clutched the folder containing her headshots and resumes in a stiff, angry grip.

From the admin building, Tierney led her across a wide sidewalk toward the theater's front entrance, the one Nicola had always used when she'd come to see plays here. It had been years since she'd attended any RSF shows, not since a field trip in high school. The main stage theater hadn't even been built last time Nicola was here.
 

The enormous exterior of the theater towered over her, like a castle waiting to be stormed. She glanced at the white and gold Elizabethan façade, scanning for angry archers or someone with boiling oil.
 

Instead of leading her through the audience seating area, Tierney turned up a different side way which paralleled the back of the theater. As Tierney led her along, the wall abruptly disappeared, giving way to only hillside.

"The others are coming soon." Tierney glanced at her over her shoulder as she walked. "I thought you might want a minute on the stage first. Takes people a bit to get used to the space." With that, Tierney led Nicola around the wall and onto the floor of the main stage.

Nicola paused at the corner, her mouth falling open as she stared around her. The RSF's website had stated "the new Armina Elton outdoor theater has its own strange quirks," and they hadn't exaggerated; the building had basically been built snugged up to a small hill. Shuffling to the lip of the platform, Nicola wheeled to admire the whole set-up with the hillside. Instead of having a wall behind the main stage there lay a hill with trees behind to form a "forest." But it
was
a forest with a charming collection of trees and bushes to form the back "wall" of the theater.

Yet, despite this homespun charm and quirkiness, when she faced the house she recognized the audience chairs were modern and comfortable, upholstered in a muted gray. The lighting and other tech equipment likewise seemed as up to date as anything, despite the fact half the building was forestland.

The odd mash-up of elegant Elizabethan architecture, a real-live forest, and a modern theater left Nicola completely charmed. Like climbing through the cabinet to Narnia and finding a new world, this theater seemed to be an anachronism grown out of the ground. This space – part in, part out of this world – was a perfect place to stage
A Midsummer Night's Dream
.

Oh, I want this part
. She thought she'd wanted the part before, thinking about Rita directing and the exposure for her career and, you know, actually having an income. But now, seeing this stage, standing here cloaked by its magic and beauty, Nicola
needed
to get this part.

She could remember only one other time she'd wanted something this badly, and fallen so completely in love at first sight before.
 

Yeah, and
that
ended well
.
 

Shut up, brain
.
 

Tierney sidled up to her. "It's a good space, huh?"
 

"Oh yes." With an effort, Nicola pulled her gaze away from the theater building. "I forgot to ask before, what do you do with the company?"

"Costumes mostly." Tierney sank down to sprawl across the steps in the middle of the stage. "But I've got my hand in everything around here. Sets. Stage managing. Comes from being one of the Infamous Eltons, I guess. Whenever they need bitchwork it's always, 'Oh, let's ask Tierney.'"

Armina Elton had founded the RSF in the 70s, and her daughter, Isabelle, was the current artistic director, but Tierney's last name had started with an 'H' . . . and been Japanese.
 

As if reading Nicola's thoughts, Tierney gave her a wry grin. "I'm The Great Armina's granddaughter. Isabelle is my mother."

What a sweet spot at nepotism
. A guaranteed In with the best theater company on the west coast. Never mind being part of a bona fide acting dynasty, granddaughter to a legendary movie star – "But you don't act?" Nicola asked.

"I used to be a dancer. Not here. Over in New York. Fucked my knee up. End of that." Tierney had fished a lighter out from somewhere, certainly not from her over-tight jeans, and was flicking it on and off, on and off, watching the flame dance.
 

A door squealed open at the back of the theater, and the pink-haired girl hopped to her feet. "Time to start the show." She thumped across the stage, the pound of her heavy boots seeming to belie her former life as a dancer. But then she smoothly jumped into the pit in front of the first row of seats, leaving Nicola alone onstage as a train of people entered the theater.
 

Nicola hesitated, rocking on the balls of her feet. Should she stay onstage? Go into the house to meet them and make nice? Max appeared, pulling up the rear and giving her a cheerful wave. She waved too, grimly smiling.
Should I kill Max for getting me into this?

The least awkward thing would seem to be to enter the house and meet everybody. This wasn't a formal audition, after all. This was more of a clusterfuck, and Nicola, as well as everybody else, was winging it.

A tiny crowd congregated in the pit between the stage and the first row of the audience. Nicola did not copy Tierney's performance and hop offstage; instead, Nicola descended to the ground by way of a side stair, all the time trying to appear regal. Queenly. FAIRY Queenly.

Rita pounced as soon as Nicola was off the last stair, pulling her into a long hug. "Oh, mija, it has been too long."

When Rita let her go, Nicola took quick stock of her former mentor. In her early sixties now, Rita's brown eyes were still bright, helped along by the heavy eye makeup and false lashes she wore, but her spiky, short hair was pure white now. She wore a black turtleneck and slacks, with a pair of white glasses on a chain around her neck and her trademark cluster of silver bracelets on her wrist. She'd put on weight and didn't look well. Nicola blinked in surprise. Rita had grimly held on to her slim dancer physique for years; maybe the stress of directing was getting to her?

Nicola grinned at Rita, but the expression slid from her face as Max stepped close.
 

"You made it." He wavered forward like he might hug Nicola.
 

Nicola leaned toward him, her hands shoved deep in her jeans pockets and murmured, "I'm going to kill you for this. No audition
my ass
."

He shot her an apologetic grin, but when she glared at him he hurriedly pulled a woman forward. "Nicola, this is Isabelle, our artistic director. Isabelle, meet Nicola." Then, much in the attitude of a man running for cover, he shuffled backwards and dropped into one of the audience chairs.
 

Nicola shot him one last glower for good measure then stepped forward to shake Isabelle Elton's hand. She was surprised to find her idol was as short as she was. At least this was one good thing about the day; Nicola had revered Isabelle Elton for years. "It is a huge pleasure to meet you, Ms. Elton."
 

Isabelle slid her hand away. "Yes, I'm sure it is."

Nicola blinked.
Did she just
–
 

Wheeling around, Isabelle faced the rest of the group. "We can't start yet. This is Judith's show. I need my co-artistic director."

"She's not here," Tierney muttered.

Isabelle shot her daughter a sour look. "I'll check the lobby." She left to seek out the missing Judith.

"'Co-artistic director.'" Tierney huffed. "Mom wants more time free to go on auditions. Reclaim her glory days."

Rita clucked her tongue. "
Chiquita
, your mother works hard. She needs help to run this place."

Tierney glowered. "If Ma needs help why didn't she ask you, Rita? Or me? Hell, you're training Max to be a director. Even he could pick up some of the slack if we're getting desperate."

For someone who wasn't an actor, Tierney was pretty damn dramatic. Then Nicola processed her remark and quirked her head. Max? A
director
?

He snorted and avoided Nicola's gaze. "Thank you, Tierney, for the vote of confidence."

They all seemed tense, and no one from the company would meet her eyes. Nerves prickling, Nicola beamed a questioning glance at Rita, but Rita had a sudden need to pick some lint off her pants. Nicola snapped her gaze over to Max and raised an eyebrow. "What's going on?" She felt a bit like the gentleman caller forced to bear witness to a family spat over Sunday dinner.
 

Max did a small lip-shrug. "Judith is our new co-artistic director. We all found out today."

And no one was very happy about it, judging from reactions.
 

"I'm here! I'm here! So sorry." An older British woman, fiftyish with white-blonde hair, glided down the theater aisle, Isabelle trailing after her. "Apologies." She stopped before Nicola. "Hullo. You must be the girl we're auditioning. Nicola, was it?"

'Girl'?
Seriously?
Nicola twitched her shoulders but managed a friendly nod. "Yes. Hello."

The woman, Judith, flashed her teeth in a smile then turned to the others, presenting her back to Nicola. "All right, I'd like to see a few scenes with Bottom first. Then we'll try her with Oberon." Judith swept up the aisle and plopped herself into a seat in the last row of the audience.
 

Isabelle blinked after her co-artistic director, seeming startled, but she covered it well as she turned toward Nicola. "I can't stay for the audition, unfortunately, I have one of my own to go to."

"Is it deodorant or car insurance today, Ma?" Tierney said, her eyes glinting.

Isabelle fluffed her mass of curly hair, ignoring her daughter's remark. "
Anyway
. Nicola, you're in capable hands with Judith."