maintain. When my name is listed on the front of a program, it better be a damn good show. So yes, I really do want to know how it’s going. What you think.”
Now she was speaking his language. And it turned Jack on even more than the way her breasts rose and fell beneath that tight sweater, mere inches away from his arm. Sure, the physical attraction and friendship he’d always felt for her was still there. It boomeranged back pretty much the moment he saw her. Hell, to be honest, there wasn’t a month that had gone by over the past ten years when he hadn’t thought about Becca. Wished for the chance he’d never gotten with her. But now, seeing her obvious talent in his chosen field? That shared professionalism and dedication? It amped up his attraction even more.
“I think you’ve done an amazing job turning dross into gold. I think the level of this production is heads and tails better than I expected.”
Her smile was like the sun coming out after a hurricane. Bright, shiny and oh-so-welcome. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you say that.”
“Don’t get me wrong.” Jack looked down at his legal pad full of notes. “The blocking’s pedantic, the guy playing Herod strokes his fake beard every damn time he says a line, and the lighting chart I saw will have to be completely reworked for filming. But overall? It doesn’t suck.”
“High praise, indeed.” Becca twisted in her chair to look at him. Leaned on one hip, keeping her balance on the armrest. Jack wished he was on the other side of her, to get a better view of that sweet ass canted up in the air. She lowered her voice, and leaned in close enough he could smell her perfume. Perfume that smelled like a bottle of pure spring air, if that air came from a wildflower-filled meadow with a rollicking stream. “So what’s wrong?”
“I just told you.” Jack stabbed his pen on his notes. “Those red gels are too harsh, and I’ll freaking handcuff Herod to a pole if it’s the only way to keep his hands off the beard. Who wears a fake beard days before the dress rehearsal, anyway? If he likes it so much, he should just grow a real one.”
“Forget about Herod. I’ve been watching you all afternoon. Every so often, this look of utter sadness washes over you. Or maybe you’re pensive? Hard to tell, since I was sprinting by each time.”
“Shit.” He dropped the pen onto his script. You’d think ten years apart would’ve slackened the incredibly strong ties between them. But Becca seemed just as able to read him as when they’d spent every waking hour hanging out together in high school. “You’re not wrong.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
No. Yes. Hell, no. But Jack knew that if there was only one person in the whole wide world he could spill to, it would be Becca. He looked around, but they were alone. Most of the cast was miles away up on stage. Nora, the costumer who dressed like a bag lady, had a bunch of people out in the lobby for fittings, and the stage manager had disappeared. If he knew stage managers, the guy was outside on a smoke break. Might as well spit it out.
“I miss Ty.”
“Of course you do.” Becca patted his leg. The feel of her hand just a few inches away from his crotch almost made him lose his train of thought. But then he looked down at his notes. Saw that he’d numbered each question, each direction. A habit Ty had insisted on from day one. Jack promised himself he’d switch to bullet points tomorrow. Just because he could. Or just because he needed to make a clean break.
“Ty’s my best friend. We worked side by side, day in and day out. Shared an apartment the first few years.” Even shared a woman once, but that certainly wasn’t a story he’d tell Becca. “Suddenly he’s gone. Poof. I know it’s for the best. That Ty needs to get healthy. But...I miss my friend.” God, he sounded like a pussy.
“It’s like you’re a starfish,” she said, with a big-eyed nod.
“I’m
Now she was speaking his language. And it turned Jack on even more than the way her breasts rose and fell beneath that tight sweater, mere inches away from his arm. Sure, the physical attraction and friendship he’d always felt for her was still there. It boomeranged back pretty much the moment he saw her. Hell, to be honest, there wasn’t a month that had gone by over the past ten years when he hadn’t thought about Becca. Wished for the chance he’d never gotten with her. But now, seeing her obvious talent in his chosen field? That shared professionalism and dedication? It amped up his attraction even more.
“I think you’ve done an amazing job turning dross into gold. I think the level of this production is heads and tails better than I expected.”
Her smile was like the sun coming out after a hurricane. Bright, shiny and oh-so-welcome. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you say that.”
“Don’t get me wrong.” Jack looked down at his legal pad full of notes. “The blocking’s pedantic, the guy playing Herod strokes his fake beard every damn time he says a line, and the lighting chart I saw will have to be completely reworked for filming. But overall? It doesn’t suck.”
“High praise, indeed.” Becca twisted in her chair to look at him. Leaned on one hip, keeping her balance on the armrest. Jack wished he was on the other side of her, to get a better view of that sweet ass canted up in the air. She lowered her voice, and leaned in close enough he could smell her perfume. Perfume that smelled like a bottle of pure spring air, if that air came from a wildflower-filled meadow with a rollicking stream. “So what’s wrong?”
“I just told you.” Jack stabbed his pen on his notes. “Those red gels are too harsh, and I’ll freaking handcuff Herod to a pole if it’s the only way to keep his hands off the beard. Who wears a fake beard days before the dress rehearsal, anyway? If he likes it so much, he should just grow a real one.”
“Forget about Herod. I’ve been watching you all afternoon. Every so often, this look of utter sadness washes over you. Or maybe you’re pensive? Hard to tell, since I was sprinting by each time.”
“Shit.” He dropped the pen onto his script. You’d think ten years apart would’ve slackened the incredibly strong ties between them. But Becca seemed just as able to read him as when they’d spent every waking hour hanging out together in high school. “You’re not wrong.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
No. Yes. Hell, no. But Jack knew that if there was only one person in the whole wide world he could spill to, it would be Becca. He looked around, but they were alone. Most of the cast was miles away up on stage. Nora, the costumer who dressed like a bag lady, had a bunch of people out in the lobby for fittings, and the stage manager had disappeared. If he knew stage managers, the guy was outside on a smoke break. Might as well spit it out.
“I miss Ty.”
“Of course you do.” Becca patted his leg. The feel of her hand just a few inches away from his crotch almost made him lose his train of thought. But then he looked down at his notes. Saw that he’d numbered each question, each direction. A habit Ty had insisted on from day one. Jack promised himself he’d switch to bullet points tomorrow. Just because he could. Or just because he needed to make a clean break.
“Ty’s my best friend. We worked side by side, day in and day out. Shared an apartment the first few years.” Even shared a woman once, but that certainly wasn’t a story he’d tell Becca. “Suddenly he’s gone. Poof. I know it’s for the best. That Ty needs to get healthy. But...I miss my friend.” God, he sounded like a pussy.
“It’s like you’re a starfish,” she said, with a big-eyed nod.
“I’m
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