Method Acting: An opposites attract, found family romance (Center Stage Book 2) by Adele Buck (web based ebook reader txt) 📕

her an exasperated look and got up from the chair in front of the makeup mirror. “Let people help you out once in a while.”

“I did. I let you help me at the donor party.”

“And I nearly died of shock. You’re like a goddamn island.” Kathleen grabbed Alicia’s bag and began to rummage in it for the phone.

Alicia glanced at Wendy, who grimaced. “She’s not wrong.”

“Okay…if you could figure out how it’s caught, thanks.” Alicia felt churlish, but Wendy stepped forward, her clever hands swiftly finding the problem. Alicia sighed with relief.

“Thanks. Now I can actually move.”

“So…do you want to answer this or these?” Kathleen asked, holding up Alicia’s phone with one hand and dangling her black lace panties from the other.

Alicia bit back annoyance and snatched both from Kathleen as Wendy’s eyes went wide and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Thanks, but the data plan for La Perla is too rich for my blood, let’s just put those back…” Alicia stuffed the underwear into the bottom of her bag.

“Can I ask…why you’re carrying a thong in your purse?” Wendy asked, eyes goggling.

“Secret weapon in an audition,” Alicia said, unlocking her phone and looking at the screen.

“Oooh,” Kathleen murmured. “How’d it go?” Her face went from eager to worried in an instant. “And please, please, please tell me this has nothing to do with any kind of casting couch.”

“It went well, actually. And no way, no how to the casting couch. It was just…personal sensory stuff. Nobody but me knew.” Alicia dismissed the text message appointment reminder from her hair salon and saw she had an e-mail. She opened the app and her eyes widened as they scanned the screen.

“Well you go, girl. And looks like you got some more interesting news if your face is anything to go by,” Wendy noted.

“A message from my other secret weapon.” She looked from one woman to the other. “Now…do I really want to go to a black-tie function?”

“Why not?” Wendy asked.

“I barely know the guy. This seems a little much.”

“Who is it?” Wendy asked.

Alicia adopted an exaggerated British accent. “That bloke I met at the donor party.”

Kathleen’s brows shot up. “The guy I had to rescue you from? The asshole?”

Alicia squirmed. “Well, turns out he’s not so much of an asshole. Anyway, I’ve got nothing to wear. Closest thing I have to black tie is the cocktail dress I wore the night I met him.”

“Olga’s,” Kathleen said.

“And who is Olga?” Alicia asked, blinking.

“Olga runs a top-notch consignment place in Palisades. Go to Olga. You’ll get a screaming deal on a beautiful dress.”

“Hmm. Worth a try. I guess I know how I’m spending tomorrow morning,” Alicia said.

A brisk knock at the dressing room door was followed by the assistant stage manager’s, “Twenty minutes, ladies.”

“Thank you,” the three women chorused automatically, and the sound of his feet moved down the hall to the next door.

“Can I come with?” Kathleen asked. “This mouse wants to help Cinderella get ready for the ball.”

Turning down his street, Colin slowed to a walk, chest heaving and sweat trickling in rivulets down his body. Letting himself into his house, he walked back to the kitchen and grabbed the large watering can from the back deck. After filling it at the sink, he took it outside to water the tiny patch of garden by his front door. Colin fancied he could see the little Japanese maple perk up in front of his eyes. Satisfied with his miniature rain shower, he went back into the house and replaced the can.

Opening the refrigerator, he took out a bottle of beer. With deliberate motions, he opened a drawer, took out an opener, popped the top off, and took a long pull. He took a deep breath and finally picked his phone up off of the counter, walking to his little back garden. The deck that extended from the house had a pair of chairs and a small table. Lowering himself into one of the chairs, he unlocked his phone and checked his e-mail.

He smiled. A message marked “Alicia Johnson” was at the top of his inbox.

Yeah, settle down. Maybe it’s a “no,” he told himself. He tapped his phone’s screen.

To: Colin St. Cyr

From: Alicia Johnson

Subject: Re: Gala

Wow. Cinderella is going to get to scrub all her old-age makeup off and go to the ball? Terribly exciting. You don’t know it yet, but I actually owe you one. So, I will accept. With one condition. I need to find a dress that won’t break the bank. I’ve looked at the pictures on the web from last year’s event, and it looks really fancy.

But never fear. One of my castmates has given me a lead on a place where hopefully I can pick something up that will work. Otherwise, I’ll need to consult some magical forest creatures to make me something stunning. I have it on good authority from the Disney corporation that mice and small birds are really good at that kind of thing. Do you know any? Or is it just rats and pigeons here like it would be in New York?

Yours in Woodland Makeovers,

—Alicia

Colin almost laughed out loud. He had started to wonder if he had been idealizing this woman: letting her looks and talent dazzle him while he filled in the gaps in his knowledge about her with imagined intelligence and humor.

He hadn’t been wrong. She was stunning, and she was clever. And funny. He couldn’t wait to see her again.

And there, at the end of the e-mail, she had given him her phone number.

Score.

Alicia, Kathleen, and Wendy piled into the dressing room, laughing. “A standing ovation on a Thursday!” Kathleen crowed.

“Aww. Guys,” Wendy said, her eyes bright. “Only four more performances and we’ll all be off doing other things.”

“Or doing other people,” Kathleen said, bumping her shoulder into Alicia’s as she reached for a container of makeup removing wipes. “Which…our Miss Johnson has some ’splaining to do.”

“Me?” Alicia asked innocently, plucking a wipe