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

of thread, Beth had found a copy of Anna Karenina somewhere on Ari’s shelves, and the lovebirds exchanged hushed secrets.

I was so worked up and quite frankly peeved beyond all that was good and holy, socializing with any of them was out of the question. And so I took a seat at Ari’s desk, fished a notebook out of my bag, and vented my frustrations on paper. It was much safer than venting on Bing’s face. I was able to write a few lines, but only before Caroline once again interrupted my solace.

“What are you doing?”

“Writing.”

“With a pen?” she asked confoundedly.

Smothering her with a pillow sounded good at that moment.

“Yes,” I hissed. “That’s usually what one uses to write in a journal.”

“OH! You keep a journal? I’d love to read it.”

“It’s private.”

“Oops. Sorry. So, it’s more like a diary.”

“If you want to call it that, yes.”

She thought about that for a minute and at length, asked, “You won’t let anyone read it?”

Clearly, I wouldn’t get much else down on paper. I sighed. “If you must know, my sister reads my journals sometimes.”

She perked up at this. “I didn’t know you had a sister. Is she older or younger?”

“Younger.”

“What does she look like?”

I could tell she was fishing for me to produce a photo. In fact, my sister Georgia’s image was the screensaver on my phone but sharing that somehow seemed oddly intimate all of a sudden. I didn’t have the energy for that.

“She’s my sister, I don’t know how to describe her. She’s petite, I guess.” I flicked my hand dismissively. “Like Beth.”

I felt rather than saw Beth look up from her book. A shift in energy waved through the room at the awareness.

“Does she live with you?” Caroline continued to drill for information.

Good Lord, woman! All the questions!

“Only when she’s in L.A. She’s at Juilliard School now.”

I didn’t mind bragging about that a little. I was truly proud of my sister. She had come a long way in recent years. It wasn’t an easy road.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” continued Caroline. “If she’s anything like you, she must be the most talented in her class.”

“Her talent far exceeds mine.”

“I’m glad to hear it. So many girls call themselves actors even when they lack the talent,” she said pointedly, rolling her eyes in Beth's general direction.

“She’s not an actress,” I replied. “She’s a musician.”

She didn’t seem to hear me, because she ploughed through with her thoughts.

“In order for an actress to get anywhere in this business, she has to have a strong dance background, can sing both classical and contemporary musical theatre, and have a great stage presence.”

Bing decided to join the conversation at that point. “I’m always so amazed at the talent I’m surrounded by every day,” he said. “All the girls in this cast are triple threats.”

“Hardly,” I said with a small laugh. I was still very much upset with him, and he had a lot to learn. I also noticed Beth set her book on her lap at that moment.

“I can probably count on one hand the women I know who are true triple threats,” I continued. “The term is applied too liberally these days.”

“I agree,” chimed in Caroline.

But then Beth cast aside her book entirely and finally spoke up. “You must have extremely high expectations, then.”

“I do,” I said. “It’s a competitive business.”

“I can imagine,” she said with a smirk. “It must take an immense amount of talent to bend over the hood of a Camaro in a bikini.”

I knew she was making a jab at my movies. I’d never pretended they were Oscar-worthy performances, but they were lucrative, and that paid for my sister’s tuition. I wasn’t proud of those films, but I didn’t have to explain myself to her.

“Acting, singing, and dancing are only the basic skills to make it,” said Caroline. “You have to be able to read music, play piano, have some acrobatic skill, perform basic stunts, have a thorough repertoire of songs in your arsenal, know the mechanics of acting on stage and on screen, not to mention voiceover work, and go seamlessly from drama to comedy in one audition.”

“Not to mention,” I added for good measure, “a brain in her head.”

Someone who reads books instead of stacking spools of thread.

“Well then,” said Beth to me, “I’d be surprised if you knew any actresses with that impressive list of skills.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No,” she replied, pointing her chin in the air. “That person doesn't exist.”

Caroline, bored with the subject, interjected, “I’ve been staring at that piano for the last hour.” She pointed to the upright piano in the corner. It looked pretty beat up. “Let’s play a song together, Will.”

No, no, no! I wasn’t up for that.

“I’m going to finish writing for now, thanks,” I said dismissively.

Caroline chuckled and tapped me on the shoulder. “You’re a regular Shakespeare, aren’t you?”

From the corner of my eye, I caught Beth making a puke face.

“It’s hard to be the Bard,” she said under her breath.

Touché, Miss Bennet. Touché.

6

Good Opinion Once Lost

Beth

Three hours passed since the brilliant Caroline shut the door, trapping us in the costume shop. For two of those hours, I watched, with some amusement, the futile efforts of Will-the-action-hero-Darcy to rescue us from our plight. He tried everything, it seemed, and with every passing minute, became more and more frustrated by degrees. The heat radiating off him became palpable as I could sense by the sheen of sweat on his face, and then after he removed his button-down shirt, more glistening sweat issued along the lines of muscle on his arms and shoulders exposed by a tank undershirt. If he continued to work fruitlessly on the door, I imagined he might have found the heat unbearable enough to warrant the removal of his tank as well. I wasn’t opposed to the idea, as it would pass the time by the amusement of watching him get upset and therefore, increase my pleasure twofold by the added benefit of a