Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set by Gigi Blume (ebook reader with highlighter txt) 📕

she was going with this. I wasn’t a shallow person. I considered myself a serious actor. I was committed to my craft. But I was broke. And truth be told, I couldn’t say with one hundred percent certainty I would turn down an offer like that. Actually, I’m sure I wouldn't be able to resist it. And did she just use the word bootay?

“So…” I croaked. “Does Darcy bare his—ahem—derrière in his movies?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said with a little too much enthusiasm.

Ewww!

I was so glad I’d never seen any of his movies. I wouldn’t be able to look at him with a straight face if I’d seen him in the buff. Geez, if I were to ever go nude in a movie, there’s no way I could let Mom and Dad watch it. Fortunately, that was rarely a problem in the world of musical theatre.

“I’d request a body double,” I decided. “IF… and that’s with capital letters, I was offered ten million dollars.”

Charlotte didn’t have to look so smug. But at least she didn’t say anything more. She made her point. I didn’t have to agree with her, but she felt satisfied to leave it there. It was all hypothetical anyway. The principles that applied to me certainly were different for a guy like Will. I knew I was right about him because, frankly, I was never wrong.

All I had to do was get through with this show and take every opportunity to avoid contact with him. For the most part, especially while we were only rehearsing music, it didn’t take much effort. It was a rather unfortunate impasse. I wanted with all my heart for this experience to be all I had ever dreamt. No, I wasn’t on Broadway—yet—but performing at the Gardiner was a giant step in my career. I wanted to love every second of it, savor each moment, make important connections and post about it on Instagram. Instead, I dreaded rehearsals, dragged my feet every time I walked through the door, and couldn’t wait for the run to be over. All because of one man. One infuriatingly chauvinistic, egotistical, arrogant, pretentious (albeit hunky) man. I hated that perfectly symmetrical, esthetically pleasing, phony smile; the way he would soft-soap Stella Gardiner, the way he beguiled the directors in his favor, but especially how he influenced his friend Bing. It was a mystery to me how a sweet-tempered guy like Bing and a grump like Will could be friends. Sure, Will had all the right connections, but Bing didn’t strike me as the worshipful barnacle type. The only thing Bing seemed to worship was the ground on which Jane walked on. He followed her around like a puppy dog. Over the course of the week, I couldn’t help but steal a glance at Will every now and then just to see the look on his face when Bing favored Jane’s company over his. A couple of those times, however, I caught him glancing my way instead. What was he trying to prove by giving me the stink eye? I felt like I was in high school all over again. I was the band geek and for some unknown reason, the football star shot eye daggers at me while Caroline, the flossy cheerleader, clung to him like—well, like a worshipful barnacle. At least it was finally Friday, and rehearsal was ending.

“Caroline might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but she’s definitely the hoe.”

I practically choked on my own spit before I turned around to see Lydia making tawdry jokes.

“What did you say?” I managed to squeak.

She was right behind me, conspiring with Holly, another soprano in the chorus, who laughed so hard, I was afraid I’d have to employ CPR on the poor girl. But Lydia didn’t let up.

“Seriously. Her hoo-ha has more users than Twitter.”

Lydia had most likely been at it a while, because Holly seemed to be hyperventilating. In a fun way, I guess.

“I mean, she was craving Five Guys before it was a restaurant.”

Holly doubled over, practically in tears and turning bright red. “Oh my gosh, stop!”

Those girls! I was certainly not a fan of Caroline, but I wasn’t so low to resort to hoe jokes. I did, however, agree with them on one thing. She wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed if she was at all attracted to Will Darcy. But then again, maybe they deserved each other.

“Hey, I’ve got one,” I said. “She’s so fake, Barbie is jealous.”

Crickets. Clearly, I didn’t have the talent for juvenile insults. Lydia and Holly shook their heads and offered me a consolatory pat on the back in a nice try but no cigar sort of way. Then they abandoned me.

It was the end of a truly horrible day. My old Volvo broke down on the way to rehearsal, and I had to run the rest of the way.

Let me repeat that. I had to run in Los Angeles.

It was like my car waited until my AAA membership expired. I was grubby, tired, hangry, and I had to work the closing shift at the lodge. Most of the cast had cleared out of the rehearsal studio, and I needed to find Jane to ask for a ride because Holly and Lydia had already gone out for drinks. I was just on my way to search for Jane when I was stopped in the hallway by the theatre’s chief costume designer. I knew her name was Ari—I’d met her when we were sent to her costume shop in the bowels of the theatre to have our measurements taken. I remember her chiding me for sucking in. I argued that I’d be wearing a corset, but she won me over by telling me a funny story about a costume malfunction in Tartuffe. Plus, I liked her blue hair.

“Would you do me a huge favor?” she said to me a little out of breath. She had a bolt of brocade satin in her arms and a huge