2. Sahara
2
Sahara
P resent Day:
As the audience stands, and the other actors join me on stage for a bow, my heart jumps into my throat. I grin, as both pride and shock race through my blood. Honestly, when I moved to Boston over the summer, when the opportunity to work at Boston Library presented itself, I had no idea I’d be performing at a local theater—or that the audience would be on their feet, applauding the entire cast of Love Unbound.
Taylor Turner wraps her arms around my waist and gives me a big hug. We met during tryouts, and she’s currently my only friend in town. Not that I have a lot of friends back home in Darien, but I’ve been so busy here, getting my apartment set up, settling into a new routine at the library, and practicing for opening night, that I’ve barely had time to sort my thoughts, let alone make friends.
Taylor beams at me. “You did great, Monroe.”
“You did too, Turner,” I tell her, loving that she chose the surname Turner for her stage name. I chose Monroe. Go big or go home, right? Taylor is a theater major at Boston college. We met during our auditions, and it’s crazy that I got the lead when I know so little about acting. I mean, I did act at Columbia. I wanted to step out of my comfort zone and took a course. I really enjoyed it, but never intended to continue with it. Maybe I auditioned for this one because the story about a girl trying to get out from under her parents’ control and find her way in life resonated with me so strongly.
Nevertheless, I felt bad that I got the role and she didn’t. Not that she ever made me feel that way. She’s a real sweetheart. But it’s crazy to think that I, nerdy bookworm introvert extraordinaire, could even walk on stage, let alone toss out a performance that warranted applause.
But are you just a nerdy bookworm introvert extraordinaire, Sahara?
Honestly, I don’t know. The sad truth of the matter is, that as the baby of the family, I’ve been under my parents’ thumb for years, and have no idea who I am or what I like. Okay, that’s not entirely true. I know what I am to my parents. A disappointment. And I probably gravitated toward this play and excelled at it because it represented what I was going through.
I can’t even imagine what my folks would say if they saw me performing for a local community theater. I can hear my mother now. If you want to perform, it had better be on Broadway . This is so beneath them. Her kids had to be the best at everything they did, and this small stage in downtown Boston would be an embarrassment to her.
Much like my library science degree.
There was no way I was going to be a surgeon like my mom and dad, or my oldest brother and sister, Austin and London. Or a professor at Yale, like my middle brother Charlie. Oh, and let’s not forget my other sister, Aspen, the fourth youngest—two years older than me—who is working in the aerospace industry.
Yeah, I’m a disappointment and it’s hard to fathom that they caved and let me go into library science at all. Then again, I’m a book nerd and they probably figured I’d fail at everything else. At least this way they could spin it to their friends and make it sound like I was a historian, or something a little more special. I’m not any of those things. Deep down, they know it too, which is why they’ve been trying to marry me off to any successful guy in their social group. That would up my status, I guess.
The last straw, however, was when they set me up with their friend’s son. On paper he looked good—a well-respected lawyer. But he was rude to our young waitress. I might come from a well-to-do family, but the one thing I won’t tolerate is entitlement, especially from a man-baby who practically threw a tantrum because it took too long to get his drink.
So, I guess you can see why I took off to Boston when a library position opened up. If I had stayed in Darien, I saw only one path forward—unhappily married, and never knowing who I really was or what I liked.
Beside me, Taylor shades her eyes. “Where are you?” Her words pull me back as she peers out into the crowd, and my stomach tightens. She told me earlier that her brother and his friend were coming to watch tonight’s performance—it’s friends and family night, a performance for us to work out the kinks—and while I’m happy for her, I’m a little sad that there is no one out there supporting me.
I shade my eyes to block the spotlights. I try to help her look, which is a bit ridiculous. I have no idea who her brother is or what he looks like. She grabs my arm. “There he is. There he is,” she chirps loudly, clearly happy to see her brother. While I love her dramatics and enthusiasm, my heart pinches a bit, a little envious that she has a brother who cares enough to come watch her. She gasps a little, and stands perfectly still and it pulls my attention.
“What?” I ask.
“He’s with Elias. Oh God, Sahara, he’s with Elias. I didn’t know he was coming. I mean I left tickets for friends and family night. I just never thought. God, he came…”
Okay, I might not know her well, but I’ve never seen her thrown off her game before. “You don’t like Elias?”
Her eyes widen as she turns from the crowd, offering them her back so they can’t see her expression—or perhaps it’s one man she’s hiding from. That’s when I see it’s nervous excitement in her big blue eyes. “Oh, I get it. You like Elias.”
“Yeah, but he’s my brother’s best friend.” She wrings her hands and crinkles up her nose. “They’re roommates.”
“Uh, didn’t you say you lived with your brother?”
She lets loose a tortured groan and twists and turns, like she’s about to melt at my feet like the wicked witch. Maybe she should audition for the Wizard of Oz. “Yes, and you have no idea how torturous it is when Elias showers and walks around in nothing but a towel. Thank God it’s a big house and I don’t have to see that often.”
I angle my head and arch a brow. “You mean you’re not trying?”
She hangs her head in shame. “I’m trying. We share a Jack and Jill bathroom, so trying isn’t really that hard. Ugh.”
I laugh out loud at her antics. “Why don’t you go for it?” Suggests the girl who’s never gone for it. Ever. Okay, that’s not entirely true. I went for it once—stepping completely out of character—and it was a spectacular disaster.
What were you thinking, girl?
“Bro code,” she concedes with a frown. “I’d never do anything to come between my brother and his best friend. Besides, he’s a lot older and thinks of me as a kid, I’m sure.”
“Nothing wrong with an older man.”
She flips her long dark hair from her shoulder. “Except when he thinks of you as a kid. Trust me, I’ve seen the women he used to go out with. All smoke shows.”
“You’re a smoke show too, Taylor.” I frown. “Wait, did you just say the girls he used to go out with?”
“Yeah.” Her brows bunch together, and I sense her worry for Elias. “I haven’t seen him out in a while. Maybe one of the girls wanted something more and he’s laying low. I think something happened but my brother would never tell me, and I think he has family problems.”
Who doesn’t…
“Family problems?”
She crinkles her nose. “He comes from a big political family, but like I said, no one tells me anything. I’m just the kid sister around the house, and I think Elias feels the same.”
“He’s not interested in anything more?”
“Nope, not with me and he is—or rather was—just like my brother. One and done usually.” She gives me a cute, lopsided grin that any man would find attractive, I’m sure. “The girls that flock to them after a game.” She snorts out a humorless laugh. “I can’t compete, and they have their pick of women.”
I’m about to ask what game her brother and Elias play, but stop when the lights dim and the curtain closes. The director comes out and gives us all high fives. While my body is tired, pouring my heart out on stage is exhausting, I’m not sure I’m ready to go home to sleep, despite my early morning at the library. At least it’s Thursday, one more day to trudge through, and I’ll have the weekend to sleep in. Our regular shows don’t start for two weeks, and then we’ll be non-stop. It’s community theater, but we’ve worked hard.
The lights flicker on and behind the curtain, conversation buzzes around us. We all head off stage, and back in the change room, I pull my stuff from my cubby. Hurrying into my street clothes, I carefully hang up my costume and tug on my shoes. I’m about to head out when Taylor snatches my hand.
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” I tell her.
“Why don’t you come for a drink with my brother and me, and Elias…” She gives me a nervous grin. I’m about to say no, but she has a pleading look in her eyes.
“I’m not much of a wing woman.”
She laughs. “Sometimes I think I stare too hard at him, and just having you there to nudge me would help.”
“Girl, you got it bad.”
She groans. “So bad, and I can’t do anything about it.”
I check the time, and since I am still keyed up, I nod. “Okay, one drink.”
“Great. My brother knows this fun Scottish pub, Kilting Around.”
“I’ve heard of it.” It’s not too far from the theater and within walking distance of my apartment. I’ve peeked in the window but have yet to go inside. “The guys all wear kilts.”
“Maybe that will help me get my mind off Elias.” She pauses and glances down. “Wait, nope. Now I’m thinking about Elias in a kilt.”
I laugh and hike my bag up higher as I throw an arm around her. “Come on.”
She smiles. “You never know, you and my brother might hit it off.”
“What you’re really saying is, if your brother is distracted, you can stare at Elias, right?”
“Damn girl, I can’t get anything by you. He’s just so overprotective of me. I love him and I love that he watches out for me, but sometimes it feels like I’m being smothered.”
I nod, understanding that completely. My parents watched my every move. “I’ll do my best to help.” I push open the door and guide her outside. The late October air is warm as we walk to the front of the theater and search for her brother.
“There he is!”
She grabs my hand and people greet me as she drags me through the crowd. The second we reach her brother and I lift my head to meet his gaze, my breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh. I stand there, immobilized, hardly able to believe I’m staring at Kalen Coolidge—the captain of my high school’s hockey team, and the guy I’ve had a crush on for as long as I can remember.
Taylor is speaking, doing the introductions as Kalen dips his head and looks at me with zero recognition. Which is no surprise. Why would a guy like him remember a nerdy bookworm like me? But I remember him. Remember when he slipped into the secret room at the library where I was reading on my phone and hiding from the crowd.
I didn’t want to be at the damn masquerade party in the first place. My parents forced me, hoping I’d meet a nice young man. I met a nice young man all right. He just thought I was someone else. In that secret closet, though, when his fingers bit into my hips and his tongue sank into my mouth, I thought maybe, just maybe he knew it was me. I must have been high on the scent of old books because Kalen Coolidge does not go for girls like me.
“Sahara,” he greets, his gaze searching my face, but there’s nothing in his eyes to suggest he recognizes me. He has no idea who I am now, or that it was me in that closet that night. When Juliette swung that door open, and reality hit like a four-hundred-page hardcover to the side of the head, I obscured my face and ran like I was being chased by wild wolves. The next morning, at the crack of dawn, I took off for Columbia University, never giving Kalen Coolidge another thought.
Much.
Now here I am, staring at the Boston Bucks’ hottest left winger, about to share a drink at the local pub. I need to get the hell out of here, and fast.
“Ah, nice to meet you Kalen.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “I should go. I’m pretty tired after tonight.”
“One drink,” Taylor bursts out, sliding her arm in mine, her eyes pleading. Taylor glances at Kalen. “Sahara is new in town, like me.” My gaze moves to Kalen’s again, and he’s watching me carefully. Even if he figured out it was me—Darien Lewis—in the closet that night, I’m sure he’d never recognize this version of me.
Not only is my hair shorter and a different color, I’m using a stage name, and I’m doused in makeup.
I switched to my middle name Sahara after I became a librarian. Honest to God, what were my parents thinking naming me Darien? Sure, we lived in Washington when I was born, but after we relocated to the coast, I had the same name as the town I lived in—a town where my mom had grown up. I spent my high school years there, before I went to Columbia to become a librarian. With the degree tucked into my belt, I had no choice but to change my name. No way was I going to be called Darien the librarian. Jeez. Adults are as cruel as kids.
Wait, is that interest in Kalen’s eyes?
Whoa…
Does he like what he sees? I take a moment to see myself through his eyes, and what I see is the theatrical version of myself, a woman who is confident, vivacious, sexually open, a risk taker—everything I’m not. But like I said before, I have no idea who I am, so maybe I do have those traits buried deep inside me.
“I’d love it if you joined us,” Kalen says, the deep tenor of his voice taking me back to that night when I moaned…and he asked if I was okay.
I wasn’t okay.
I’m not okay now.
I might never be okay again.
Get your ass home, Sahara.
Or…pretend to be the girl from the stage, have a little fun…for a little while anyway.