Phoenix Falling (52 page)

Mouth dry, he said, "I haven't done live theater in over ten years."

"You don't have to be great, just competent. The audience will be so blown away at having Kenzie Scott step in that they'll be very forgiving."

"Shakespeare is usually presented in an edited form, and we don't have her script."

"Dame Judith e-mailed me the file. It's printing out now. You can drive while we run lines, and I tell you where the variations are. If we leave in the next half hour, we should reach Santa Fe in time for a fast run-through with the rest of the cast."

She'd thought of everything. He closed his eyes, struggling with fear. "I don't think I can do this, Rainey. I'm not at all sure I'll ever be able to face a camera again. Live theater is a hundred times more terrifying."

Her hand came over his where it rested on the tabletop. "I know this will be hard for you, but even though you feel stripped to the bone and vulnerable, no one but me knows about your past," she said quietly. "This is a good chance for you to decide if you want to continue acting, Kenzie. The stakes are a lot lower than on a big-budget movie, and you'll be helping Dame Judith out at the same time."

He'd loved live theater when he was at RADA, but that was a long time ago. Now the thought of standing in front of hundreds of staring eyes made him want to lock himself into Cibola and never come out.

But Rainey was right, dammit. He needed to find out if he was still an actor. More than that, he owed Dame Judith for standing up for him after Nigel Stone's ambush. "I can't really say no, can I?"

"Not really." Her smile was tremulous. "I'm scared, too, Kenzie, but I think we can do this."

"Your faith exceeds mine." He regarded the salad. Appetite had vanished, but it was going to be a long, long day. He picked up a fork and began to eat.

* * *

Dame Judith greeted them with extravagant hugs. "Thank the heavens you're here! Today has been a nightmare." She frowned at Kenzie. "Would you consider shaving off the beard?"

"No, I would not," he said firmly. The heavier his disguise, the happier he'd be.

"I suppose there's no reason why Benedick shouldn't have a beard." Taking each of them by one arm, Dame Judith marched them to the back of the theater. "First we'll let the wardrobe mistress have at you, since she'll need time for alterations. It shouldn't be hard to costume Rainey, but some improvising will be required for you, Kenzie. My regular Benedick was rather smaller."

The controlled chaos that always marked an opening night was multiplied by the food poisoning disaster. Cast and stage crew members, most very young, buzzed in all directions. Adding two Hollywood stars to the mix brought the brew near the explosion point. On the whole, Kenzie was glad for the confusion. It distracted him from his own rampaging nerves.

After the wardrobe mistress swiftly devised costumes for Kenzie and Rainey, they walked through the play. It was less a rehearsal than an attempt to work out blocking and stage business. The newly recruited friar kept tripping over the hem of his robe, while the very young Hero's deathlike swoon after being repudiated at the altar led her to fall off the stage, luckily landing on a well-upholstered musician.

The third time the stately but inexperienced Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon, ran into another performer, Dame Judith caught the man's gaze and said in a blood-chilling tone, "The basic rule is remember your lines and don't fall over the furniture. Do you think you can manage that tonight?" Blushing beet-red, Don Pedro promised to do better—and promptly backed up into a large wine jug, which fell over with a hollow boom.

When the run-through ended, Dame Judith said with a sigh, "If Shakespeare weren't dead, this production would put him in his tomb."

Rainey said encouragingly, "A bad final rehearsal is a good omen for the actual good performance."

"Except when it isn't," Dame Judith said dourly. "I've booked the two of you a room at a charming bed-and-breakfast around the comer, but there isn't time for you to go there to rest before the performance. Since space is rather tight, would you mind sharing the largest dressing room?"

"Not at all," Rainey said. "Just point us in the right direction."

A junior assistant stage manager took them to the dressing room, which was reasonably furnished and had a shower. When they were alone, Rainey flopped full-length on the sofa. "You were right—my hormones have made me mad," she said dramatically. "We'll be lucky to leave Santa Fe alive."

He sat at the end of the sofa and draped her legs over his lap. After removing her shoes, he began massaging her feet. As she moaned with pleasure, he said, "Do you have the energy to make it through the play tonight?"

"I'll be fine." She grinned. "Actually, I'm having a wonderful time. It's been years since my playhouse days and I'm frightened half out of my wits, but there are no real consequences for failure. I can do terribly and still get credit for being a good sport."

The consequences were higher for him, and they both knew it. Even if he made it through the evening without disgracing himself, this might be the last performance he ever gave. Acting had sustained him for years, but he was no longer the same man. Luckily, he could get through tonight's performance with skill, even if passion was missing. Dame Judith and the people who paid their hard-earned money for tickets deserved at least a competent performance.

None of his rationalizations prevented his muscles from knotting.

Rainey sat up and swung over to straddle his lap, her long skirt pooling around her. Cupping his face between her hands, she said, "I have a really good idea for dealing with opening night jitters." In case he didn't get the idea, she wriggled against him.

He had to laugh. Catching her around the hips, he asked, "Are you sure this is good for you?"

She leaned forward and kissed him, her lips warm. "I really do like your beard. It's so lovely and male. As to your question, one of the books on pregnancy I read said that basically, there are two kinds of people when it comes to sex during pregnancy: those who like sex more, and those who like it less. I've figured out that I'm the former type. How about you?"

"I certainly find you sexy." He slid his hands under her skirt, caressing her thighs. "Good grief, when did you abandon your underwear?"

"Advance planning." She kissed him again, doing interesting things with her tongue. "I figure we have half an hour before we need to shower and do costumes and makeup."

"Less if we shower together." He began moving against her.

"Excellent improvisation," she murmured.

Rainey was right. This was a terrific way to deal with opening night jitters.

* * *

There was an absolute aloneness before stepping on stage. Kenzie waited in the wings, and wished he'd had the sense to refuse Rainey's pleas. If he wasn't so close to being physically ill, he might have walked out of the theater.

Onstage, Rainey as Beatrice, Dame Judith in a false beard as Leonato, young Hero, and a Messenger were tossing the opening lines back and forth. Dame Judith was marvelous, of course, her trained voice pitched to a convincing tenor.

Rainey, a consummate pro, gave her opening line perfectly, her question about Benedick's survival betraying how much she cared for him even though their prior affair had come to nothing. Flanked by experts, Hero gulped, and spoke well.

Then it was time for Kenzie to enter with the Prince of Arragon and three of the other main male players. As he stepped out, he felt the pressure of all those eyes staring from the darkness. Dame Judith had announced to the audience before the performance that food poisoning had required numerous substitutions. She hadn't mentioned any names, promising to introduce her performers at the end of the play.

The audience began murmuring, and he saw people looking from him to Rainey and back again. A piercing whisper said, "It's Raine Marlowe and Kenzie Scott!"

The murmuring intensified, completely paralyzing poor Don Pedro. Under his breath, Kenzie prompted, "'Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: The fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it.' "

After a panicky glance at Kenzie, the prince managed to croak out his line. Leonato responded, and suddenly the play began to fall into place.

Kenzie had always loved Benedick, who hid his feelings behind banter, and the role fit like a well-worn glove. Rainey tossed her first teasing dart at Benedick, Beatrice doing a preemptive strike. At the same time she was his wife, who'd had as much trouble trusting as the character she played.

As the play unfolded, slow joy began to move through him. He'd forgotten the electric intensity of a live performance, the excitement of being fueled by the emotions of the people who watched so raptly. What actors and audience created tonight would never be repeated in quite the same way. This night was unique and intimate, immediate in a way that film could never match.

Inspired by Kenzie, Rainey, and Dame Judith, the rest of the cast members surpassed themselves. Kenzie wanted to laugh out loud at the sheer pleasure of performing. This was what he'd been born for, but had forgotten amidst the pressures of Hollywood fame, the unnatural stop-and-go nature of filming.

Beatrice, like Rainey, must be won by a man who was her match. At the end, when Benedick had accepted his fate and proclaimed, "Strike up, pipers!" Kenzie caught Rainey around the waist and swept her high in the air, holding her over his head like a dancer.

Time slowed while he revolved in a circle, looking up into Rainey's laughing face as her gauzy skirts floated around her slender figure. "Thanks for making me do this, Rainbow," he whispered.

As thunderous applause threatened to blow the windows from the playhouse, she gave a smile more intimate than a kiss. "You're welcome, my love."

There was no exhilaration quite like that of taking bows in front of an audience giving a standing ovation. The clamor was beginning to subside when Kenzie stepped forward and raised one hand for silence.

When the crowd quieted, he said in his most resonant voice, "Thank you for being here tonight, and reminding me why I became an actor." He caught Dame Judith's hand and pulled her forward. "Thanks also to Dame Judith, one of the grandest ladies the British theater has ever known, who took a chance on bringing in two Hollywood hacks for tonight's performance."

As the audience rumbled with laughter, he drew Rainey forward, tucking her in front of him with her back against his chest. Her apricot hair was trailing wisps and her cheeks were flushed with exertion.

"Most of all, I want to give thanks to Raine Marlowe." He joined their left hands and raised them so the gold of their wedding bands flashed in the bright lights. "My wife, now and forever."

Tenderly he kissed her hand. His gesture brought down the house again.

Charles Winfield would have been proud of him.

Epilogue

Rainey shifted restlessly in the back seat of the limousine. It had been weeks since she'd been able to get comfortable anywhere, and tonight she was as twitchy as a bored two-year-old.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Kenzie gave her the worried glance of a man about to become a first-time father. She rather missed the beard, but he did look unbelievably gorgeous in a tuxedo.

"Pass up the Academy Awards ceremony when my movie is up for nine Oscars?" she said with a grin. "This is never going to happen again."

She glanced down at her flowing black evening gown. The multiple layers were trimmed with black sequins and designed to take advantage of her cleavage, which was pretty impressive at the moment. "No way will I miss it even if I do look like a high-fashion version of the Goodyear blimp."

He took her hand. "You look beautiful." A charming lie, since it had taken massive efforts to get Rainey up to looks-pretty-good-for-a-woman-in-her-ninth-month.

She relaxed into the leather upholstery, thinking about the amazing months since
The Centurion
had opened. The gods had smiled, and the movie became a critical and popular hit. Reviewers raved about the wrenching, nuanced portrayal of trauma and healing, the luminous cinematography, and what a wonderful alternative the film was to the holiday crop of high-tech, big-budget thrillers.