Chapter 13 #2
I pick at a chip on the desk. “I just told her to clean the mirrors.” She offered to help, but I would have to show her everything, and she’s not dressed for deep cleaning.
So I kept it simple. “She’s probably in there on her phone or doing her nails or posting videos about her Cinderella lifestyle on social media. ”
“How is she your sister? How are you not like that?”
“When I was a kid, we didn’t have much money.
That came after I had been on The Other Side of Ordinary for a few seasons.
She was so young that she doesn’t remember being poor.
She only knows the good times. We have the same mom, but we had very different upbringings.
” I run my hand through my hair. “It’s not her fault, really. She’s a product of her environment.”
“If you say so.”
Mom didn’t push Audrey the same way as me, but I’m sure she’s manipulated my sister in a thousand ways. It’s what she does. I’m not sure if she knows how else to be.
I shake the thoughts away. “So. Is Jack done with stocking all the inventory?”
We ordered extra for this weekend.
She glances at the clock and then frowns. “Yes, he should be by now. He hasn’t come in here?”
“No, I haven’t seen him.”
She rolls her eyes. “Ten bucks he’s helping Princess Ofelia in there.”
“Twenty bucks she conned him into it.”
When Audrey batted her eyes at Jack earlier, he couldn’t speak for five full minutes.
Daphne’s phone dings and she pulls it out of her pocket. “Carter is here. I’ll get Jack to help with the heavy lifting.” She pushes to her feet. “Do you want to come show him where to put the photo booth stuff?”
When we get out to the lobby, Carter is standing by the door, a frown marring his face.
Audrey’s standing about ten feet in front of him, her back to us, shoulders rigid with tension. What is going on?
Daphne stalks toward them. “Hey, Carter. I’ll grab Jack, he can help pull stuff out of the truck.”
His eyes shift to me and Daphne and his features relax. “Hey. Jack’s already out there moving his car so we can back the truck up to the curb. There are a bunch of boxes with props and extra Polaroids and film.” He pushes open the door.
Daphne follows him outside.
I stop next to Audrey. “What was that about?”
She faces me, her lips pressed closed, cheeks bright with color. “What was what about?”
Before I can pry for more, she spins on her heel and stalks back to the bathroom.
What the hell?
The door to the theater swings open and Daphne comes in, a box in her hands. “Where’s Princess Fiona?”
“Um. She went back to cleaning.”
Maybe Carter didn’t fall all over her, and she couldn’t handle it? Who knows?
We spend the next thirty minutes setting up the DIY photo booth in the corner, away from the concession stand to avoid interfering with a possible line.
Carter really came through. He brought in two old Polaroid cameras from the school, a stack of film, and a couple of corkboards we prop up against the wall so people can pin their pictures up.
We set out some light stands that look like they have been used in at least a thousand school plays and a bunch of props: feather boas, oversized sunglasses, fake mustaches, plastic tiaras.
In honor of Graham’s work, we also added cardboard printout stick props of masquerade masks, including skulls, zombies, and devils.
The only thing left is the backdrop, which Daphne and I pieced together earlier using a large white sheet, gold and silver tinsel, ribbons, and a bunch of fabric flowers in every color we could find.
Once it’s finally secured to the wall, we step back to take it in.
“Not bad.” Carter crosses his arms.
“Are you kidding me?” Daphne says. “It’s charming. It’s whimsical. It’s also the best we could do with what we had on hand.”
Jack backs toward the hallway, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll grab Audrey. She’ll want to see it.”
Daphne rolls her eyes. “You’re really going to be that obvious?”
“What?” Jack shrugs. “She’s hot.”
Daphne plants a hand on her hip. “You have zero game.”
Jack grins. “And yet it hasn’t failed me yet.”
“Debatable,” she shoots back.
“Good looks and money don’t make someone a good person,” Carter says. “It’s usually the opposite.”
I frown, turning to him. “What does that mean?”
Granted, I have my own problems with Audrey, and lord knows he’s not far off, but she’s still my sister. I am allowed to talk shit about her, but that doesn’t mean anyone else can.
“Sorry. Nothing.” He blows out a breath and rubs his head. “I have to get back to the school. It’s been a chaotic day, and we’re understaffed.” He turns to Daphne. “Are you looking for a full-time office job?”
“How’s the pay?”
He pushes up his glasses. “Well . . .”
She waves at him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve done work for the school system in the past, and I stopped because it pays absolute dog shit and those crotch goblins are feral.”
He lifts his hands. “I get it. Thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Let me know if you change your mind and can promise to stop calling them crotch goblins. You all need anything else from me before I take off?”
Daphne claps him on the shoulder. “We’re good. Thanks for saving us.”
He nods once, quick and distracted, and heads for the door.
Once he’s gone, we store the boxes in the storage room and finish the work we needed to get done today before the big event tomorrow: last-minute cleaning and paint touch-ups, double-checking our inventory, and running the movie to make sure there aren’t any issues with the reel.
Before we lock up for the night, I grab the ticket I set aside for Spencer.
After saying good night to Daphne and Jack, Audrey and I get in her rental car to head back to Spencer’s office.
I fasten my seat belt. “What was up with you and Carter?”
She shifts into drive. “Who?”
I sigh. “Never mind.” I don’t have the energy to try and dig it out of her.
The rest of the three-block drive is silent. When we get inside, Audrey disappears upstairs without a word.
What is up with her? She can be spoiled and petulant, sure, but silent? Never.
I stand there for a second while her footsteps fade overhead, then I make my way to Spencer’s office.
He looks up when I step into the doorway.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” I cross the room and set the ticket on his desk before dropping into the chair across from him. “For you to confirm.”
“Great. Let me grab the letter.” He opens a drawer, pulls out a key, grabs the ticket, and disappears into the back room.
A few minutes later, he returns, frowning down at the page in his hands.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “It’s fine.” But his voice is flat, and his face is carefully blank.