Muse

Chapter 32

thirty-two

. . .

Jordana

Early Sunday morning, I knocked on Rachel’s office door.

Gavin stood at my side. My head throbbed with a hangover; I’d depended on a cold shower and hot coffee to get me here. I’d emailed Rachel when I woke up. True to form, she’d responded immediately, though curtly, agreeing to meet.

“Come in,” Rachel called, sounding weary.

For so long, I’d admired her ability to keep a million spinning plates in the air. How many of those plates had crashed?

When I entered, her office looked like a hurricane had blown through. Her curly hair was pulled into a lopsided bun, and dark circles shadowed her eyes. She raised her brows, catching sight of Gavin across the hall before I shut the door.

Snatching up a cluster of mugs from her desk, she stashed them on a bookshelf and pitched a wilted sandwich in the trash before shuffling the piles of paper into a slightly more orderly state.

I pretended not to notice.

“For you.” I held out a cup of Korner Koffee’s best brew and a paper bag.

Rachel eyed them skeptically. “Bribery, Jorie?”

I gave a casual shrug. “I stopped for a drink and thought you might want something.”

She accepted the coffee and opened the paper bag a little too eagerly. I’d asked Matt to throw in a pecan sticky bun. I’d noticed Rachel liked to nibble on them from time to time during rehearsals.

Taking a big bite, she chewed, swallowed, and cleared her throat. “I suppose you’re trying to win your role back, and your recommendation too.”

“Actually, that’s not why I came. I want to apologize. I’m sorry I disrespected the set. It was very unprofessional and a severe lapse in judgment.”

Was she suppressing a smile?

“That’s putting it mildly,” she said. “Do you want to tell me what’s been going on with Corey?”

Her question caught me off guard. “Did Gavin say something?”

“He made some pretty serious accusations. Said Corey threatened and intimidated you.”

“It’s true. Corey and I had a thing for a long time.” It was hard to look at Rachel, so I focused on the bookshelves behind her. “When I met Gavin, I broke it off. Corey didn’t want to accept that.”

Rachel took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I had no idea. I wish you’d told me.”

I braided my fingers together, fighting the old tightness in my throat.

“Rachel, you warned Gavin about me. You told him to stay away from me because I’m ‘seductive’ or dangerous or something.

I looked up to you, and that…that hurt. Do you think I could really come to you about my problems after that?

For all I knew, you’d blame them on me.”

She flinched, then nodded slowly, turning the paper coffee cup around in her hands. “You’re right. I owe you an apology.”

I shifted in my seat, taking this in. “Thank you.”

“Believe it or not, Jorie, I see some of myself in you.”

“Really?

“You’d do anything for your craft. You’d crawl across a bed of nails for a role. You live and breathe your work, like I do. When I’ve seen some of the choices you make, when I saw you making such an unprofessional choice last night —”

“I know. The ironclad rule. No fooling around on set.”

Rachel fiddled with the paper bag, pried a pecan off her sticky bun, and ate it without seeming to notice. “Five years ago, I was working on an off-Broadway production. My fiancé was the stage manager.”

“Fiancé?” I glanced at her left ring finger, which was bare.

“Not anymore. I caught him backstage with another woman.”

“I’m sorry.” I wanted to reach out and take her hand, like I would with Eden, but I kept my fists balled in my lap.

Rachel pressed her fingers to her temples. “She was one of my closest friends.”

“Not Shelby,” I blurted.

“Gavin told you about her?”

“Of course.”

“Right. I suppose he would. No, not Shelby. A different friend, who I haven’t spoken to since.

I haven’t spoken to him since, either. Needless to say, it was over.

” She gazed around the office. “I was so humiliated. Crushed and rejected at my own production, and everyone knew what had happened. I wasn’t the kind of girl who looked for a shoulder to cry on.

I soldiered on and refused to let anyone see how hurt I was.

Except Gavin. I called him in the middle of the night because I couldn’t take it anymore.

He held me while I cried,” she muttered. “I don’t like to remember that.”

“It’s okay,” I said softly.

“I’ve tried to create a culture for my shows where that kind of behavior can never happen again. But there’s only so much I can control.”

“Rachel, please be honest with me. Do you want Gavin?”

She spluttered through a mouthful of coffee. “Do I want him? No, Jorie. I know him too well and, my God, we’d fight constantly.”

“I’d love to believe you, but I don’t know if I do.”

“Has it crossed my mind? Yes,” she admitted. “After that betrayal, we spent a lot of time together. But I knew it was wrong. We’d be wrong together. His, uh, proclivities…”

“They’re not your kinks?”

Her cheeks turned red. “Let’s stop right there and say that it would never, ever work. It’s probably why I pushed him and Shelby together, so he’d be off-limits.”

I leaned forward and held her gaze. “Then why did you want to keep us apart? Why did you say it was a mistake?”

“I was afraid you’d hurt each other. Badly. I didn’t want an explosion that could blow up one of my oldest friends and one of my best students.”

“Best?” I shook my finger at her. “I heard that.”

“Jorie, you’re so much better than screwing around on a stage. I’ve seen you sabotage yourself and it makes me so angry.”

“I know. But I only wanted Gavin to have the spotlight for once. He deserves it.”

Rachel blinked at me. “You understand him.”

Could I ask her to give me another chance?

Before I could say anything, the door burst open. Eden marched in, wearing the same heart-printed sweatshirt and wide-legged jeans she’d worn yesterday. She planted her hands on the one free patch of space on Rachel’s desk.

“I’m not doing the play without Jorie,” she announced. “So if she’s out, I’m out.”

“Excuse me?” Rachel peered at her.

“If Jorie isn’t playing Blanche, I won’t play Stella. Period.”

“Eden, for God’s sake. I don’t have time for this.”

Eden’s eyes were red and swollen, her hair a mess. My heart twisted, and I wondered where she’d spent the night.

“I went to Korner Koffee,” she said. “Matt told me Jorie was here to plead her case. So I’m making the closing argument.”

“I haven’t pleaded anything,” I began.

Rachel narrowed her eyes at Eden. “I don’t make bargains.”

“Rachel, please.” Eden’s voice rose. “You want me to be onstage with Corey? I can only do it tonight if Jorie’s there. She’s strong enough to balance him. I can’t even face him right now.” Finally, she looked at me. “That is, if you can stand to be near him. I get it if you can’t.”

Her bluster faded, leaving her looking forlorn and sad.

Rachel shoved her hands into her hair. “Is Gavin still out in the hall?”

“Yes,” Eden and I said at the same time.

“Tell him to come in.”

I got up to open the door. As I passed Eden, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

She smiled faintly, following me into the hall. “I know.”

Gavin leaned against the wall some distance away, reading a book, giving us privacy.

“What made you change your mind? About us?”

Eden hugged herself. “Your email, I guess. The show you wrote for us. It was so good…and you know me better than anyone else does.” Her eyes welled up, and she rubbed them fiercely.

“It just really scared me to feel like I didn’t know you all of a sudden, that you’d kept such a huge secret from me.

That you thought you had to. And Corey, lying to me about so much, and I didn’t see it, didn’t want to.

All night, I went back and forth between hating him, hating you, hating myself. ”

“Eden, no.” I grabbed her hands. “Don’t ever hate yourself.”

“You shouldn’t hate yourself either.” She squeezed my hands.

“I don’t anymore. I don’t think I do.”

A tentative smile lit her face. “Good.”

“I don’t ever want to lie to you again. It felt awful.”

Eden tipped her head, studying me. “I don’t think you will. Not if you feel you have nothing to hide.”

“What’s happening out there?” Rachel called.

Gavin’s head snapped up from his book, and I wondered how much he’d overheard.

I beckoned him into the office. Following us in, he took the chair next to mine. There was a moment of eye contact between him and Rachel that was clearly an apology on his part.

Eden paced the room. “What’s the verdict? Will you let Jorie do the show?”

Rachel folded her arms, studying me. “Is it in any way a good idea to put you, Eden, and Corey onstage together tonight?”

I caught Eden’s eye. She lifted her chin.

“We’re actors,” I said. “We can put on a damn good show.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Gavin, but his brows knit together.

“Corey needs help,” I said. “Real help. But ruining the show is the last thing any of us needs right now. Do I want anything to do with him personally? No. But I don’t want to split up this cast. We’ve all worked too hard.”

Rachel knotted her fingers. “I’ll speak with him.”

The room went silent, and Gavin gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Eden’s right,” Rachel said finally. “Be Blanche tonight. I expect none of this will ever happen again. If there’s a problem, come to me. I want to know. I will listen. And I expect your best in return.”

“You’ll get it.” This was when I should thank Rachel and hustle out of her office. Instead, I leaned forward. “And the internship…? Will you recommend me?”

“You deserve a shot,” she said wryly. “Your writing is excellent. Don’t give me any more reasons to withdraw it.”

“Thank you,” I said fervently.

“Writing?” Eden’s eyes widened. “You’re applying for writing? Not acting?”

Warmth stirred inside me. “The show I sent you, Typecast, is just one project. I have some others going too. No big deal.”

Gavin put his hand on my shoulder. “I have to disagree. It is a big deal.”

“Of course it is!” A smile hovered on Eden’s lips. “I can’t believe you wrote that show for us.”

I squeezed her hand, relieved when she squeezed back. “I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.”

That night, the audience was spellbound.

Before the show, Eden and I avoided Corey. His face was sullen, his nose bruised under his stage makeup. He’d told everyone he’d tripped and fallen down the stairs.

But onstage, he pulled all the different aspects of Stanley — the sex symbol, the manly man, the hurt little boy, the unhinged brute — into an unforgettable performance.

I dove into Blanche, but I didn’t lose myself. Eden brought more depth to Stella than she ever had.

It didn’t feel like a college theater production, like we were aiming above our heads for characters who were older and more experienced.

It felt real.

For three hours, it was.

At the end, as I spoke Blanche’s final line about depending on the kindness of strangers, I saw a face in the audience.

Gavin, watching me unwaveringly.

Not long ago, he’d been a stranger. I hadn’t known it was possible to experience the trust and excitement and inspiration that I did with him.

My love.

My muse.

Jackson spoke the last line of the play, and the lights went out. The theater was silent for a full minute. Then the applause came in a tidal wave.

I stood between Eden and Corey for bows. I took their hands, and I wasn’t afraid. I didn’t need to disappear.

As the audience rose in a standing ovation, Corey’s hand tightened on mine in a death grip. He smiled at the audience, but his face was glazed. His palm felt sweaty.

When we left the stage, he stumbled, knocking into me. Max moved between us immediately, his eyes watchful.

“Easy does it,” he said to Corey. “Come with me.”

“I don’t feel so good,” Corey mumbled.

“Let’s get you to a place where you can rest.” Max steered him backstage.

“Where?” Corey sounded panicky.

“Home. Just home. That’s all.”

I let out a long breath as they went to the men’s dressing room.

Eden hugged me, leaning her head against my shoulder. “We did it.”

I hugged her back. “We really did.”

She gave me an extra-hard squeeze and let go. “What happened with your dad? You said he wanted to come to the play.”

“I told him I wasn’t ready to see him yet.

Not here, with everything that’s happened.

But over the holidays, I might be, and in the spring, maybe he can come see whatever show we’re doing.

He also—” I shook my head. “He sent me a gift basket. With a card. And a metric ton of snacks. We should have people over to eat them all.”

“Um, yeah. Who doesn’t love free food?”

Outside, Gavin stood waiting. Eden smiled and left my side to join Hope and Gretchen.

I walked toward Gavin. Everything about his posture said, I’m here. I’m ready. You’re mine.

I’m yours.

When I reached him, I was suddenly tongue-tied, and my hands shook.

This was it. This was us in public. Being open and honest. Together.

He held an enormous bouquet of coppery chrysanthemums. Without a word, he presented them to me.

My heart pounded. I buried my face in the bouquet. The spicy aroma of the chrysanthemums mingled with the powdery fragrance of my stage makeup and Gavin’s pine-scented soap and the poignant, smoky smell of autumn.

The play was over, but our story was only beginning.

I looked up from the bouquet to his amber eyes. Wide, focused, taking me in.

His hand slid into my hair, cupping the back of my neck. He gripped my waist, pulling me close. Our lips met as he kissed me, at last, in public.

When Gavin released me, I was aware of people watching. Rachel. Professor Lombard. The cast and crew. Even Dominic was there, appearing cleaner and more put together.

But Gavin was only looking at me.

“You outdid yourself, kitten,” he said.

I handed him a flower from my bouquet. “I hope everyone knows you did the lighting. That made the show.”

Gavin laughed. “I took a bow from my seat. A small one.”

“Like a head nod?”

“Basically.”

We couldn’t stop smiling. Everything was bright and fresh and new.

“I can’t wait for what’s ahead of us, Jordana.” He took my free hand as I cradled the bouquet.

I glanced at our joined hands, at the gold watch he’d found for me. “Well, if you’re searching for something to do once you send those photos to your publisher tomorrow…do you want to be the cinematographer for Typecast? Eden said she’ll do it with me.”

Gavin cocked his head. “Are you hiring me?”

“Uh-huh. I’ll even pay you. In kisses. More than that, if Typecast ever turns into something.”

“You got it. I’m all yours.”

My heart fluttered. “I think we’ll make a great team.”

He pulled me in, his arm tightening around my shoulders. “We already do.”

We walked into town, the evening mist surrounding us. Autumn foliage fluttered down, the leaves still vivid in the light of the streetlamps, and the last night of the Fall Leaf Festival greeted us with laughter and music.

The past was over. The future was in our hands.