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

who didn’t trust him, and I almost lost Jane’s friendship when I called him out on it. He hoodwinked her. Turned out Jane wasn’t his only muse for those beautiful songs and when she found out, she cried on my shoulder and watched Spanish telenovelas for days. I never once said I told you so, and I vowed to keep my opinions about her boyfriends to myself from then on. But Bing was different. I didn’t sense any danger for her where he was concerned.

Will once again took up his pen and journal he so secretly wrote in. Every so often, I’d catch him glowering at me then turn back to his writing when our eyes met. What could he have been writing, I wondered? Probably one hundred and one ways he hated Beth Bennet. I honestly couldn’t figure out any other reason why he’d glance my way so often. It couldn’t be that he found me at all attractive. I’m a Hobbit—not a tall bombshell like Caroline or a beautiful Swedish goddess like Jane. Still, I was at a loss why someone like him would waste any more energy than necessary in such contempt to warrant the stink eye. I went over our earlier conversation in my memory. He’d looked right at me when he spoke of his impatience with idiots and jerks. Was he referring to me when he told us about his Burnt List? What had I ever done to be on his Burnt List? For the record, I wouldn’t expect anything less crass from Will Darcy.

An energy bar flew in my direction and landed on the cutting table in front of me. I blinked at it like it had fallen from the sky.

“Are you allergic to peanuts?” Will was several feet away, far enough to keep a safe distance.

“Um… no,” I croaked.

He didn’t say another word and turned away from me, placing himself at the farthest end of the room. I looked up to find everyone else with a similar bar, devouring them like manna from heaven and Will taking his seat, fishing another one from his Mary Poppins messenger bag. He was an overachieving boy scout. Did he have any burritos in there by chance? The stubborn part of me didn’t want to accept anything from him. It was counterintuitive to the sinister joy I got from loathing him. But hunger won out, and I ripped into the package, grateful for anything other than the hot sauce packets in Ari’s mini fridge.

I finally made my bed out of layers of crinoline and nineteenth century wool coats (probably from previous productions of Oliver or Jekyll and Hyde) and drifted off to a restless sleep. Caroline likewise found some coats for a makeshift bed while Bing and Jane shared the sofa. Will, as far as I know, stayed up all night. Maybe he thought I might bludgeon him in his sleep and decided to stay on guard. All I know is each time I shifted from sleeplessness or got up to empty my bladder, he was awake in his chair, reading or listening to music.

Somewhere after three in the morning, the tumult of what was arguably the worst day of my life caught up with me, and I fell into a hard and deep slumber. I only awoke when an abrupt jostling roused me from the weight of it and coming out of the haze of dreaming, I focused on the image of Charlotte shaking me like a sack of flour. Caroline, Jane, and Bing rose, having just awoken, and there in the threshold of that blasted door, stood the formidable Dame Stella Gardiner. She wore an amused grimace on her stoic features and leaned against the doorframe, fondling the keys on her forefinger. It took me a minute to register the scene before me, somewhat disoriented to my surroundings before a flood of realization washed over me, and the dreamy haze was replaced by a splitting headache.

Charlotte spoke, but I only caught a few phrases. Something about being worried I didn’t show up for work, not finding Jane or me at our apartment, and coming upon all our cars in the theatre parking lot. Stella must have been called at some point, but since it couldn’t be any later than six in the morning, I imagined she wasn’t amused by the early-hour disturbance.

And then I noticed with more interest than I cared to admit—and a good measure of relief—that Will Darcy was gone. He no doubt fled the moment Stella’s keys turned the lock.

7

Quetzalcoatl’s Hot Chocolate

Beth

The best part of Monday’s rehearsal was the absence of all the male members of our cast except for Bing. We were expected to learn the choreography for three pieces in the first act, which required only the Stanley Sisters and Frederic. I knew I couldn’t avoid Will entirely, but the reprieve of three days was like a mini vacation. At least it would have been if I didn't have to spend my every hour of freedom at the lodge. In consequence to missing my shift on Friday night, I was given the worst section in the restaurant and extra side work. I also had to pick up the Sunday Brunch shift nobody wanted. In short, I spent more on gas than I made on tips. Still, it was better than spending a weekend rationing energy bars between five people in a costume shop, two of which were Heathers to my Veronica Sawyer. I pondered whimsically who I could recruit for the character of Jason Dean.

All thought of poisoning aside, I did have to endure an entire day dancing with Caroline, but she was the lesser thorn in my side. In fact, I hardly noticed her presence. Of course, a day at rehearsal wasn’t complete without its weirder-than-fiction theatrics, and that came in the form of our replacement choreographer who was the most spectacular mixture of drill sergeant and drama queen on the planet. He was such an