Chapter 3
three
. . .
Jordana
The voices died away. The theater sat empty. Finally, I was alone in the place that gave me comfort.
The scent of dust and old wood filled my nose. The air lay heavy around me with memories of shows staged here, stretching back for decades.
I cleared my throat, trying to breathe around the lump that blocked it. The sound echoed through the space, bouncing off rows of empty, red-cushioned seats.
My hand closed around my phone, and my lower lip trembled.
I couldn’t break down in front of the cast and crew. Definitely not the faculty — especially Rachel. Her opinion meant everything to me.
But here, with only the theater as my witness, maybe I could find a moment of shelter.
Trudging up the aisle, I reached the back of the house and settled into a last-row aisle seat near the lobby doors.
My coat’s fake fur tickled my neck. Suddenly, I felt Gavin’s fingers there. Stroking, circling my vulnerable throat.
What would his touch be like?
I shoved my collar back. Forget him. The last thing I needed was another guy fucking with my head. I had to handle the news from my parents without distracting myself with sex or alcohol. Just this once.
Focusing on my breathing, I forced myself to reread the rest of my father’s texts.
He was in love with another woman. They planned to build a new life together. He shared this news like it would come as a surprise, like I hadn’t known about his mistresses and affairs since I was fourteen. But this time, he was leaving my mom. She’d never seen it coming.
Why did anyone bother with love? How could people hope for forever when it only led to pain?
Breathe, Jorie. Just breathe.
As I closed my eyes, male laughter shattered my attempt at peace. Familiar voices seeped in from the doorway behind me that led to the lobby. I slid further down in my seat to avoid being seen.
“So, Jackson,” came Corey’s confident voice. “You been inducted into the brotherhood yet?”
There were chuckles from the others. Probably Max, Ty, and Jackson — all three playing Stanley Kowalski’s poker buddies.
Typical Corey and his method acting. He shared an apartment with Max and Ty, and his “process” demanded that they play poker with Jackson, every single night. They were likely on their way to play at the Mug and Trencher.
“What brotherhood?” Jackson sounded concerned. He was a freshman. Between his newness and his broken arm, the poor guy was probably on edge.
“The one connected to our resident diva, of course. Miss Jorie Green. If she’s fucked you or sucked your dick, you’re in the brotherhood.”
My head jerked up. Why was Corey saying this? We’d agreed to keep our rendezvous a secret.
“Uh, no,” Jackson said. “Nothing’s happened with her.”
“Not yet,” Corey said meaningfully. “Don’t worry, you’ll be in the inner circle soon.”
“Hell, we all are,” said Ty, to hoots of laughter. “She’s gotten into everyone’s pants.”
I’d hooked up with each of them over the past two years, along with many others.
Theater students, random guys at Hawthorne, men in bars — anyone who was attractive in dim lighting, with a body to slam against. Going without sex for too long left me feeling scattered, restless, and rootless, unable to focus, when focus was what I needed most to succeed in school and onstage.
Corey was my obsession, but he didn’t always want me and I wasn’t going to sit around fucking nobody while I waited for his beck and call.
Max — tall and shaggy-haired — told me I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Ty — broad-shouldered, emcee of campus comedy nights — had been nervous and jokey, and he’d wanted the lights off. They’d participated as much as I had, but their rising laughter made it sound so ugly.
“I’m waiting for a sex tape to come out,” Max said, earning another round of guffaws.
“Hey, it’ll boost her career.” Corey, again. “It’s not like she can act.”
His words were like a dash of ice water to my face.
Corey thought I couldn’t act?
Measured footsteps sounded offstage. A tall, lean shape emerged from the darkness of the wings.
Goddammit. He was still here.
Gavin.
Why hadn’t he gone on to the Mug and Trencher, or back home, or anywhere else? Why did he have to witness every last step of my humiliation?
Swinging a ring of keys, Gavin walked up the aisle. His gaze flicked left and landed directly on me, sending a shiver down my spine. His steps slowed.
“Don’t feel bad, Jackson,” Ty said. “Maybe she doesn’t do freshmen.”
Gavin’s brows lifted. His focused gaze cut to the door.
Corey scoffed. “Jorie’ll do anybody. She’s probably screwed the professors.”
My stomach roiled, and I flinched, expecting Gavin to beat a hasty retreat. But he stayed, studying his keys as if they were the most interesting sight in the world. Tiny floor lamps lit his jaw, making it look carved from stone.
“It’s only a matter of time, Jackson,” Ty said. “Just remember to sterilize your dick afterwards. We don’t know how big the brotherhood is.”
“Gotta wear, like, five condoms if you want to fuck her,” Max announced.
Gavin’s jaw twitched. His eyes darted to mine, as if asking for permission.
To intervene. To stop my humiliation. To play the savior.
I huddled inside my cheetah coat, refusing him the satisfaction. I didn’t need saving, was too far gone for that, though it tugged at my heart and pride to deny myself.
Corey laughed. “She’ll go through everyone in this school by the time we graduate. Jackson, my man, your turn is coming. Right after she fucks that new lighting designer.”
Gavin burst up the aisle and threw open the door, flooding the carpet in light from the lobby.
“Are you amateurs, or are you professionals?”
“Excuse me?” Corey said.
“Don’t talk shit about your castmates. Ever. And don’t speak that way about a woman. Now get out. I'm locking up.”
A shuffle of footsteps retreated, leaving the lobby to a heavy silence. In the pool of light cast onto the aisle, two shadows shifted.
“I think we’ve got a misunderstanding, Gavin.
” Corey’s voice was friendly. Now that he knew Gavin might teach here, he was clearly trying for damage control.
“You’re new, and I want to make sure you know that this is a serious program at Hawthorne.
We were staying in character, that’s all.
Intense, I know. I can see how you’d misinterpret—”
“I didn’t misinterpret anything,” Gavin said calmly. “You disrespected the leading lady.”
“Leading lady?” Corey coughed. “Come on, you have to admit that’s an exaggeration. Stanley’s as important as Blanche is.”
“How well do you know the play?” Gavin’s voice was deceptively mild.
“Inside and out.”
“Then you know it’s Blanche’s journey. Stanley’s the same asshole from beginning to end. You’re a supporting actor, so start showing her a little support. Now get the hell out.”
For once, Corey was speechless. The lobby door closed with a sharp click.
The scrape of a key in the metal lock swirled emotions through my body: gratitude and amazement that Gavin had stood up for me, shock at the guys’ conversation, pain that I really meant nothing to Corey — and shame that Gavin overheard them.
The lump in my throat thickened, but my eyes stayed dry. It was one of the ironies of my life that I could cry while acting, but couldn’t cry at all as myself.
I stood and buttoned my coat, wondering if Gavin would reemerge. There were no voices in the lobby, no creaks in the backstage floorboards. No movement in the curtains or wings. But he might still be here. He could have taken the long way around.
The house lights flicked off, leaving only the green exit lights above each door.
I was alone.
I crept through the soft blanket of darkness to sit in the aisle.
Please. Any force that’s out there, help me. I feel so fucking lost.
The dusty, old-books scent of the theater filled my nose. I squeezed my eyes shut, seeking oblivion. But as I did, warm colors bloomed behind my eyelids.
I lifted my head to see the stage.
Lights flooded the set like the sun shining through a stained glass window. Washes of purple, red, and cool blue transformed the dingy Kowalski apartment into a box of glowing jewels.
It felt like a heavenly reply. You think you’re alone, Jorie. You think you’re lost. But you’re not. Life looks ugly right now, but there’s so much beauty waiting for you.
I breathed it in.
Then my shoulders tensed. The lights meant I really wasn’t alone. Someone else was in the theater.
“H-Hello? Who’s there?” I walked down to the pit and turned around to face the booth. The lights momentarily blinded me. “Hello?”
“Up here.”
I peered up at the tall figure on the catwalk. My heart beat faster. “I thought you’d left.”
“Disappointed?”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s after hours. Every sane person in this show has gone out drinking, or home to rest.”
Gavin laughed. “I guess we’re insane.”
That laugh pulled me in. It was inviting, and when it dipped low at the end, hot.
“Can I come up and see what you’re doing?”
There was a pause. “All right, Jordana. Watch your step.” His boots squeaked on the metal grating overhead.
I entered the wings, where a multitude of ropes and cables hung on the walls and a long ladder led to the catwalk. A faint light shone at the top, illuminating Gavin’s face.
I stepped on the bottom rung. “I haven’t been up here much. I usually help out with costumes.”
“I’ll keep an eye on you.” He grinned. “Don’t do anything rash.”
“Acts of rashness are my specialty, Gavin.”
I expected him to laugh. Instead, his eyes darkened, holding mine until blood rushed to my cheeks.
I swung myself up the ladder until my knees finally hit the metal grating — a long, narrow platform that extended above and across the theater.
Gavin took my hand and hauled me to my feet. My palm burned against his. We both let go, quickly.