Love in the West End (Sapphic Showmance #1)
Chapter 1
FALLING
LOURDES
“They built the show around her in Manchester. There was little you could do to dethrone her.”
The bad news came via mobile phone as I waited to be called on stage for a matinee.
My agent failed to soften the blow with her explanation.
I hid in my tiny dressing room, threw my mobile phone at a makeup chair, and screamed so loud that half the ensemble appeared in the hall to gawp.
I didn’t tell them what happened, lest I appear ungrateful for getting a role in the buzziest new musical to hit the West End.
I assured them this was a new vocal warmup, pulled on my tap shoes, and held my head high.
I never auditioned to play Princess—later Queen—Alexandra.
Though I expected to play Queen Victoria, I was cast as the late queen’s rival.
My agent reminded me that this part was a unicorn—a true first soprano role, demanding choreography, and a fat paycheck.
Because I needed the money, I gracefully accepted my demotion to dueling soprano number two.
A role like this was a needle in a haystack, but Victoria the Great had it all.
“Where is she?” a company member whispered.
“She’ll be here,” another said. “Give her a chance.”
I kept my mouth shut as I sat, drumming my fingers on the table while waiting for our leading lady. I’d showed up ready to work, but our new starlet was nowhere to be found. Just as the clock struck nine, she rushed in with our leading actor, Brian Morrison.
“We got held up,” she said. “So sorry.”
Natalie Lyons-Roughy—known as Leah Roughy to anyone who had even heard of her—was the daughter of a prince and a footballer.
Her aunt was the literal queen. Until now, her only union experience was a small role on Broadway in Fiddler.
Her curvy figure, short stature, and blonde hair didn’t scream “ingenue”.
Her American accent leaned more girl next door than theatrical superstar.
“More like our driver tried to kill us!” Brian glared.
“I warned you that forcing me to drive here is a dumb idea, Brian. I’m going to get rid of that car.”
“Weren’t you born here?” Brian teased.
“God, no! I was born in Chicago. Despite what people assume, I do not drive here. You know that.”
Despite Brian’s dating history chock full of fit, blonde guys, they argued like old, married people.
He rolled his eyes and sat by me.
“We will hire you a driver,” Michael, our director, said. “Now that we are all here, let’s get underway. Go around the table and introduce yourselves. Let’s start with you, Lourdes. Tell us about yourself and what you are looking forward to.”
I smiled like a consummate professional. “I’m Lourdes Lennon. I grew up around London, and I’ve been working for almost ten years now in some capacity. I play Alexandra. I am most looking forward to Jeremy’s choreography. We worked on Chicago together. He’s brilliant—tough but fair.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Jeremy said.
We turned to Brian. “Uh, Brian Morrison here! I’m so excited to be playing Albert to Leah’s Victoria.
I loved originating this role during the workshop and cannot wait to get to know you better.
Leah and I are annoying. Apologies. We live together—at least for another couple of weeks—so sometimes we row. ”
Brian was a legend, and Leah was a lucky bitch.
Leah sipped her iced coffee. “I’m Leah Roughy and forgive me if I seem super new here.
I am. I played Victoria in Manchester and am over the moon to be learning the ropes with all of you.
Lourdes, your work on Chicago was amazing.
You could out-dance me any day, so I will try to match your energy and skill.
It’s not my strength. Thankfully, now that we are out of our experiment—”
“Hellscape, love. The workshop in three acts was a hellscape,” Brian corrected.
I knew the show in Manchester was experimental, but I’d never dreamed they would build a show around a rank amateur in three acts. Who even did that anymore?
“Exactly. Two acts. I can survive. Well, I am just excited to be here.” Leah flipped her hair over her shoulder and smiled.
She was surprisingly diplomatic and candid. At the very least, she read the room. We were rivals and—on paper—she stole my part.
Next was a former paramour, Clive Newman, a dog of a man who fucked like an animal. Clive was talented, but self-obsessed. If Clive wasn’t such an impressive dancer, he would have been unemployable. Predictably, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Leah. I wanted to remind him she was decidedly average.
“I’m Clive Newman. I’m coming off a run from Great Expectations and haven’t sung or danced in about a year. I’m rusty but looking forward to playing Prince Bertie—the rake to Alexandra’s exceptionalness.”
His eyes met mine, finally, then darted back to Leah.
I wanted to warn her—and would have if I either cared or assumed she’d listen.
Instead, she bit her lip and made eyes at him.
This production would be precisely the type of show you both loved and hated.
Everyone was young, hot, and hooking up.
The average cast member was well under thirty-five and many were coming off hookups as former castmates in Chicago. It was a very sexy disaster.
After introductions and a quick break, we jumped right into numbers—with the big one first. I sang Dear Albert at my audition. Standing at stage right, Albert reads the letter as she sings the passionate ballad from stage left describing the ways she loves him.
The moment she began to sing, I understood the rationale to cast Leah.
She appeared an average university student until she opened her mouth, captivating all.
Her voice was like velvet. Her full lips unleashed a powerful vibrato that could have been annoying if it wasn’t so fucking perfect.
Like Clive, I was drawn to her like a moth to flame.
She and Brian carried the song perfectly.
“Fucking hell,” Clive whispered. “She’s going to be a star.”
Supposed “stars” rarely surprised me anymore, but Leah Roughy was one. She’d go far—like it or not—and I would fall for her like a sack of bricks in the process. She was a siren, and I helplessly wished not to find her charming.