Lethal Lover

4. Elena

Morning and afternoon rehearsals went so well, the director let us take a few hours for dinner. It’s happened a few times, and when it does, I’m always thankful. Today, I got some Chinese from a little dive down the street with Warren. He likes to follow me and make sure I’m safe, which is sweet, but sometimes, I think he thinks he is going to date me. I’m not sure he’s my type, but I’m not leading him on.

“After you,” Warren says, opening the door to the theater building. We still have twenty minutes before we’re due on stage for our evening rehearsals, and both of us are carrying our leftover Chinese and our drinks. I barely touched mine. I don’t want to be belching during practice.

“Why thank you…” I curtsey and snicker and step into the building. It’s quiet, except for the hum of the fans overhead warming the building. With rain moving in and a cold front hovering, it’s a bit chilly even for early fall.

“God, everyone must have left.” He flicks on the lights and walks toward the double doors that lead into the theater and pulls one open. It’s dark in there too. The theater is always spooky when it’s dark. I’ve thought that since I was a kid playing in my first musical, The Secret Garden

“Looks like it. We must be the first ones back.” I follow him into the dark auditorium, lit only by the runner lights on the floor in the aisles. This is what it’s like for people who come to watch our shows. It’s a little spooky, especially when Warren turns around and makes fake ghost noises and tries to scare me by touching my arms. I snicker and swat at him. ”Stop it!”

“You guys are ridiculous.” I hear the voice before the lights come on. It’s Trixie, who clearly was here before us. She twirls a strand of her hair around her finger and smirks at me with a nasty expression.

I swear I hear Warren grumble something under his breath, but I don’t know what he says. I’m pretty open-minded, but I know he really doesn’t like Trixie. He seems to get irritated every time she’s around—just one of the reasons I won’t date him. I don’t care much for his attitude. If he’ll talk bad about her and have an attitude merely at her presence, he’s not the type of guy for me.

“Even the director went out?” I ask, and Trixie—standing on the stage wearing one of my costumes—rolls her eyes.

“What? Peter isn’t allowed to eat too?” She scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest. It’s obvious she has a problem with me, even though I haven’t done anything to her. But that’s showbusiness. She should have had the role in that last musical, but she had laryngitis on audition night and I didn’t. She”d mostly worked unopposed until now, so she’s learning how to share the spotlight.

I smile softly at her, but it only sours her expression more. She’s not happy with my appearance, and I can’t do anything about that. All I can do is be polite and use the manners my mother gave me. Warren, on the other hand, seems to not care one bit whether Trixie is happy. He walks down the aisle toward the front at a faster clip than me and leaps onto the stage. His fingers trace the hem of the collar on the dress Trixie wears.

“You’re wearing Elena’s costume. Take it off,” he says, scowling at her. Always my defender, he has it in his head that he’s theater security or something. While not at all true, other people actually do listen to him. There is security here, but they’re lax and mostly just stick to working on show nights.

“I’m the understudy.” She scoffs, pushing his hand away. “Mind your business anyway, War.” The way she accentuates his nickname looks like it irritates him. His scowl turns to a glare, and he touches the collar of the dress again, only to have his hand smacked away.

“Hey, guys. It’s okay. Honestly, Trixie is supposed to practice, Warren. She can wear it.” I use the steps on stage right to join them on the set, and Warren turns his scowl on me momentarily. He looks like he wants to correct me, but suddenly, his expression shifts to a fake smile and he bows from the shoulder.

“As you wish,” he says in a very theatrical tone.

The tension is thick, but luckily, it’s broken as slowly, the cast trickles back in. A group of extras stands to the right rehearsing a song they have to do for the chorus. The male lead—another point of contention with Warren, who didn’t get the role—pulls Trixie away to practice the kissing scene, apparently. And the stagehands start moving the set around to prepare for the opening scene.

I sit on the edge of the stage swinging my legs, waiting on the director to return as Warren continues bossing people around. It’s odd to me that Trixie calls the director Peter, since where I grew up, we used a person’s title or surname to address them. But she’s been on Broadway a few years now and probably has built a good relationship. I smile to myself thinking one day, maybe I’ll have that pleasure too.

After waiting more than a half hour and knowing things should have gotten started by now, I wave Warren over. He jogs across the stage and drops down next to me like a well-trained dog.

“What does the beautiful Elena need right now?” I’m not impressed by his eagerness, but I’m happy at least one person on this cast doesn’t hate me. He and Nina are the only friends I’ve made since moving here.

“What’s taking the director so long? Isn’t he usually really prompt?” I’ve only been part of a few shows, but he’s never been late before.

“Hmm, yeah. You’re right. Pete’s never late. He must be caught in traffic or something.” Warren doesn’t look too worried, but I’m thinking if the director doesn’t start rehearsal until late, then things go later into the evening. I won’t get enough sleep, and then I’ll have bags under my eyes for tomorrow. It’ll turn into a vicious cycle.

“Well—”

The doors in the back of the auditorium burst open and one of the stagehands runs down the center aisle. “Rehearsal is canceled!” he shouts, exuberantly raising a fist in the air. “The director isn’t coming back tonight. We can take a break.”

“What?” I mumble, looking at Warren. He shrugs, and we both look at the stagehand who leaps onto the stage in similar fashion to the way Warren did earlier.

“What’s going on?” Trixie asks. She comes out with her hands on her hips, glaring at anyone who dares look at her. It’s the same nasty expression she has ninety percent of the time, anyway. It’s not just resting bitch face. She has a real problem with me.

“I guess Peter got mugged. They are taking him in to check on him and do a police report. New York’s crime scene strikes again. Just enjoy the night off, Tricky T.” He winks at her and darts backstage, and everyone bursts into murmurs and hushed tones.

Maybe Warren’s following me around is a good idea. I didn’t realize how dangerous the streets are in NYC. It makes me wonder how safe it is for me to even walk home alone. I finger my phone through the pocket of my jeans and consider calling an Uber instead of walking to the subway tonight.

“Want to go to dinner?” Warren asks, and I give him a confused look. How could he even want to eat at a time like this? Is he heartless?

“We just ate…” My deadpan expression doesn’t sneak past him, and I see a flicker of frustration in his eyes.

“Dessert, then?”

“Sorry, War. I need my beauty sleep. How else can I stay New York’s most beautiful actress?” I wink at him and stand up, dusting my jeans off. I pick up my leftover container and soda cup and hope he doesn’t get pushy. I don’t need drama around here.

In my dressing room, I put my things together, and when I use my phone to schedule an Uber for a ride home, I remember that I told Liam I would let him know if I had a slot free up in my schedule. It makes me smile thinking of him. I’ve felt like an ugly duckling my whole life until he lavished his compliments on me. So with the smile still on my face, I call the number he gave me.

“This is Salva…” His voice gets me, making my heart beat a little oddly. I feel like a teenager with a crush, but he’s so much older than me. It doesn”t seem real sometimes.

“Uh, Liam?”

“Elena, so nice to hear your voice. How is the rehearsal going?” He sounds happy to hear me, which makes me happy. It’s a nice feeling to know someone likes me.

I bite my lip as I say, “Well… It’s canceled. I am free for the evening. I thought maybe we could… Well, you said…”

“Ah, I’m so sorry, Elena. I’m busy all evening…” There’s a pregnant pause, as if he’s thinking. I would love to spend the evening with him, but if he’s busy, I can always just stay home and watch a movie or something. It would be good to catch up on my sleep. “You know what? Let me just clear my schedule. Where are you? What are you wearing?”

A surge of happiness wells up inside my chest, wrapping around my throat. I cough a little and answer. “I’m at the theater. I’m just wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I’m not really dressed for any fancy place.” Last time we went to dinner, it was a starred restaurant I felt completely out of place in. Even with the dress he gave me, I felt like a piece of toilet paper dragged on the bottom of his shoe. It was his style, not mine, though if I’m dating a man as wealthy as him, I have to get used to that.

“No problem. I’ll send a car for you and we’ll get some burgers or pizza. How does that sound?”

I feel like gushing, but that will only make me look foolish and immature. Liam has to be ten years older than me, maybe more. I want to impress him, not embarrass myself. So, I take a composing breath and glance around the room.

“That’s great. I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

Twenty-five minutes later, I sit across from him at a small table in the dining room of Burger King. My jeans and T fit right in, but Liam is in a three-piece suit and he looks really out of place. It’s a wonder he isn’t getting robbed for that watch on his wrist. It looks expensive, and people are staring at us.

I take a bite of my burger, thankful I barely touched the Chinese which is now in my trash can in my dressing room. Liam eats a French fry, but I have to chuckle at how awkward it seems. I feel like Cinderella without the gown being followed by Prince Charming in public. I wonder when he’s getting out the glass slipper.

“What?” he asks, picking up his paper cup of soda.

“You just don’t see such a wealthy man wearing such a nice suit eating French fries very often.” I smile at him and look away, feeling silly for pointing out the elephant in the room.

“Ah, this? It’s nothing. People stare at me everywhere I go, anyway. I don’t mind. I’m with the most beautiful woman in the city. They are going to stare, anyway.”

He charms me. His charisma is magnetic, drawing me in and making me a believer in whatever he says. Liam is handsome and alluring. I can’t believe he’s interested in me. Maybe it’s just because of my status at the theater, though, and I don’t really want a groupie or a fan-boy. That thought makes my smile fade a little, but Liam says my name and it brightens right back up.

“So, Elena. Tell me about the show.” He slides another French fry into his mouth, and I shrug and swallow the bite of burger. It’s awkward eating in front of someone you”ve just met, but make that person a billionaire and it’s even worse.

“Well, I got the lead in the last play, but this time, Nina got it. I’m a secondary role, though, so I don’t mind.” I pick up my soda and sip it, and he clicks his tongue.

“Well, that’s alright. You’ll get the next one. That director just doesn’t know what he’s got yet.” He winks at me, and I blush. So maybe he’s not just after me because of my status. I’m not as good as he thinks I am. It was a fluke how I got the lead in the last play. I don’t really see myself getting to that status for a while. Trixie and Nina are both older than me by a few years. They have more talent, more experience, and honestly, I think they’re prettier too.

“I appreciate your saying that.” I look down at my burger as I have another bite. The rest of dinner, we chat about the show and what it’s about. He asks me tons of questions, a lot of them revolving around how my fans have been sending me letters and gifts. I suppose it’s normal. He wonders if he’s competing for my attention with other men. I think it’s sweet that he has a jealous streak, so I put him at ease and let him know no one else has caught my attention.

When dinner is over, Liam leads me to his limo, which again looks very odd parked out in front of Burger King. I’m not even sure there is parking on this street, but there it is, taking up two parking spaces. I slide into the back seat, and he follows me, and when the door shuts, his hand rests on my knee. I feel a little tense now, like maybe I should have just gotten that Uber.

“Uh, so you’re taking me home now?” I ask, not even trying to mask my nerves. Liam is a grown man, and I’m not talking about a boy turned into a legal adult and curious about life. Liam is experienced and probably has women ten years older than me lined up to pleasure him in ways I’ve never heard of. I’m just not that sort of girl.

“Well, I can take you home, or you can come home with me…” His hand slides up my thigh until the tips of his fingers brush the seam between my thighs. My body grows so warm I think I’m going to pass out. Heat flushes my cheeks and pools in my groin. He wants me to “go home” with him, and that only means one thing. But on the second date?

“I… Uh….” I know what he wants. Honestly, I kinda want it too, but I don’t think I’m ready yet. I let a guy feel me up a few times—once, he got me off—but I’ve never done that. Not the whole shebang, and Liam will be expecting something I can’t do for him.

“Something wrong?” he asks, grinding the tips of his fingers against my sensitive part. My mind screams no, but my body wants to melt into him. I’m melting just thinking about how amazing an orgasm would feel right now, one I didn’t have to give myself. But we just met. I’m not ready.

“I’m a virgin, Liam. And I’m just not sure I’m ready for this yet.”

His hand retreats, much to my chagrin, but my mind has won out. My body will wait for another time, or I’ll self-pleasure at home imagining what could’ve been if I’d have just said yes to him. I just don’t want him to think I’m easy, and I don’t want to jump into something with him that I may regret later. What would my mother think?

“Well, I completely understand. I wouldn’t want to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.” He says the right words, but there is an undertone of maleficence in his words. It doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable because he pulls away, but I am frustrated with myself.

“I’m sorry.”

“Do not be sorry.” He touches my cheek lightly. “Once a flower is plucked, it cannot bloom again.” He leans in and presses his lips to mine in an explosion of sensations that makes me want to change my mind, but I can’t. I haven’t brought protection, and besides, I want my first time to be really special. Not on a second date after eating Burger King. I’m glad Liam respects that.

Maybe Warren is worried about nothing. I’m sure the director’s mugging was just a random, horrible thing. Good people still exist, like Liam.