Chapter 26
Twelve days until Opening Night
We don’t have rehearsal for two days, but it takes no time for the news to spread among the cast. It is to be expected that everyone involved with the show would find out about the scene at the bar.
It’s big news in a small town. It almost sounds glamorous, sleeping with the TV star. I am dreading facing everyone tomorrow.
I have so many texts from Nick:
Mira. Call me.
We need to talk.
Babe, I’m so sorry. I don’t care about anything but us.
Mira for fucks sake.
You know I could shut this whole show down, right? I just have to say the word.
I don’t even like Shakespeare.
I Gave up Lego Batman for You!!!
Really, you’re just going to ignore me?
You are done in this business, do you hear me?
I sit for a long time. It’s clear that being friends with Nick isn’t going to be an option. I also know there is only one way he is going to leave me alone.
You were right, I type. There is someone else.
His reply:
I fucking knew it.
I’m done with this. I’m outta here.
I’m not sure exactly what he means, but I have a feeling I’m about to find out.
When I walk into rehearsal the next day, everyone is staring at me. There are whispers. I’m not sure what to say. I certainly didn’t invite my personal drama to follow me and join the show. He did that all on his own.
Nick is surprisingly quiet. He completely ignores me except when our characters are interacting.
At break, he makes a show of hitting on Bailey.
She is sitting on a chair, eating an apple, and he keeps leaning in, whispering to her, smirking.
At first, she rolls her eyes (a trigger for him, I’ve learned from experience), and when he finally leans in and snakes his arm around her shoulder, she jumps up.
“What the fuck, Nick?” It’s audible enough that the room turns to look at her.
“Bitch,” I hear him hiss. “You should be so lucky.”
I’ve seen it a hundred times, even when we were together, I am loath to admit. Most girls lap it up, most girls are all too happy to have attention from the big star. I catch Bailey’s eye and nod at her. I get it. I hate that he did that. I’ll talk to her later.
We are running the scene where both Demetrius and Lysander are under Puck’s love spell and are fighting over me. It’s a fun scene—Max is so funny in it, falling all over me, but Nick just isn’t getting it. I hear my father clear his throat from the back of the room.
“Uh, yes, good energy, folks . . . Mr. Nolan, a quick word, if you please?” Usually he bellows notes at us but tries to err on the right side of Nick’s ego.
“I’ve said it a thousand times, Ross, you’re welcome to share any notes you have for me with everyone.”
“Ah, I see, yes, all right.” My father rubs his face. “It’s just . . . lacking urgency.”
Nick stares at him blankly. “It’s no good?”
“It has . . . elements of good,” he says. “It just . . .”
“Spit it out, man,” snaps Nick.
I see a flash in my father’s eyes that I know means trouble. “It’s a love scene.”
“No, it’s a fight scene,” Nick says, as though it’s obvious.
“Between Lysander and Demetrius, yes, but really, each is performing a love scene with Helena, or trying to, but your anger seems to extend toward Helena . . .”
“Well, yes, okay? I’m mad at her.”
“At Helena?”
“At your daughter,” Nick snaps. “Okay? I’ve had it with her head games and mixed signals and bullshit, okay?” Everyone looks at me. I look down at my script.
“I say,” says my father. “That is between you and . . .”
“No.” I stand up. I’ve had enough. “It’s not.
There’s nothing between us.” A few people look confused.
“Yes, we dated, okay? And I broke up with him.” There is a general hushed murmuring, both at the revelation and, I suppose, the fact that he was the one who got dumped.
“And then Nick showed up here—followed me here—and he won’t drop this thing.
And I can’t, okay? I can’t do it anymore.
” I turn to Nick. “Either stop being an asshole or, I don’t know, just fuck off! ”
Nick does a slow clap from across the stage. He walks slowly toward me. “That might have been your best performance ever,” he says, smirking. He walks up the steps slowly. “Which isn’t saying much.”
“Honestly, just leave me alone.”
“No, Miranda, I’m actually committed to this show. I’m here because I want to be. We can’t say the same for you, can we?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Have you been honest, Miranda? Does everyone know why you’re here?”
“Yes, okay, fine, you got me kicked off my show!” I burst out. “Yes, this is the only work I have right now! Are you happy?” My eyes go right to my parents. Sure enough, my mother’s eyes are wide. My father is shaking his head, shocked.
“You hear that, everyone? She’s only here because she’s desperate!” He grins wolfishly.
“Why are you doing this?” I feel Theo’s eyes on me. This is news to him too. “What are you trying to achieve here? I lost the show, so what? I’ll find something else.”
He leans in close. “I only have to say the word, and you’d be blacklisted. You’d never work again!”
I lean in closer so only he can hear. “And I only have to say the word, and the whole world would know what you did to me at your party.”
He steps back. “You’re such a bitch.” He snorts. “I never did ask the execs about getting you back, by the way. I had a feeling you’d fuck me over again . . .”
“I don’t care. I just don’t,” I say, and something in him crumples. “This conversation is over. Enough.” He looks at me, dumbfounded. His scowl turns into something nearly violent.
“You know what? This is bullshit. Fuck this.” He moves to leave but turns back, pointing at my dad.
“I’m out of here. And you know what? I hate Shakespeare.
I hate theater! It’s stupid . . . Left is right and up is down .
. . All the weird rules, the superstitions.
” He takes on a pretentious, mocking voice.
“Don’t whistle in the theater! Don’t wish anyone good luck, and whatever you do, don’t say ‘Macbeth’ in the theater.
” There is a collective gasp of horror. “Oh my God, what? Macbeth!” They gasp again.
He raises his arms dramatically, spookily, moving toward them. “Macbeth, Macbeth. Mac—”
It almost happens in slow motion. The ghost light cord. Nick’s foot, his frantic expression as he falls forward off the stage. The sickening crack of his landing. His scream.
If the show wasn’t already doomed, it sure as shit is now.