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

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diet and health ideas every week—all contradictory to one another.

“We’ll be late for rehearsal if we don’t get going soon.” I sighed. “I’ll call you and Dad on the weekend.”

She sat upright and patted on the sofa for me to join her. I obeyed but didn’t allow myself to sit comfortably lest she never leave. Jane and Lydia took this as a cue to get dressed for the day and left the room.

“I’m worried about you,” she said like a woeful Jewish mother. “You haven’t had a boyfriend since college.”

“That’s not true,” I protested. “I’ve gone out.”

“But no one serious. What was that boy’s name? Jon?”

“Brett,” I said flatly.

“Yes,” she said with a vague expression. “He was a nice boy. Why don’t you call him?”

“No, thanks. Besides, I don’t want a boyfriend.”

She glared at me for a few moments and deciding something that must have just come to mind, said in a semi-serious tone, “Are you a lesbian?”

“NO! Mom. Seriously?”

She shrugged innocently and threw her hands up, waving them in front of her. “Well, you’re always around those theatre types.”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Again!”

“Okay, okay,” she conceded. “Just promise me you’ll try to get a boyfriend.”

I released a heavy, frustrated breath as I rose from the couch. “I have two boyfriends, actually.”

She perked up immediately, poised for the news with an eager expression. “Oh?”

“Yes,” I said as I crossed to the kitchen. “I have a serious relationship with Ben and Jerry.”

She huffed and followed me across the small space that connected the living room and kitchen.

“Please be serious,” she said. “Dad and I want you to come for dinner this Sunday. Bring a date.”

“Can I bring Lydia?”

“Vomit girl? No. I’ve just had my floor waxed. Bring that naked man if you like. Just bring someone. Preferably male.”

9

Eggs, Pie, and Cheese Wiz

Beth

Part of me wanted to keep the dirt Jorge told me about Will to myself. He had told me those things in confidence. Would he appreciate it if I blabbed about it all over the theatre? When I pressed him about revealing Will’s true character to Stella, he just shrugged humbly and said he couldn’t slander the Darcy name for the sake of his foster father. He said it wasn’t his place to expose Will—something about karma—and he’d get what he deserved. I took this as an open-ended invitation to at least leak a little incriminating evidence to my friends. I had to at least tell Charlotte, who was convinced I was blinded by prejudice toward Will. I wanted to rub it in her face. For the present, I had to content myself by confiding the secret to Jane and Lydia during our carpool to rehearsal. We’d dropped off Jorge at Phillip’s Gastro Pub to retrieve his truck, and Lydia ogled at his retreating backside when I felt compelled to drop a few hints about our heart-to-heart over hot chocolate and saltines. I left out a few of the more intimate details, but by the time we were halfway to the theatre, I had said enough to convince Lydia that Will was a complete Molokov. (It was my Chess day) Jane was less inclined to form such colorful judgments and turned over the information in her head with a good measure of thought before exclaiming, “It doesn’t make sense. There must be some other explanation.”

“What other explanation could there be?” I said. “Will was a jealous, spoiled brat--and probably racist. The things he did to Jorge were plain vindictive. He had no reason for it.”

“I’m sure there are two sides to the story,” she replied. “They were both grieving the loss of Will’s father. It all could be a big misunderstanding.”

“Cutting him out of the will, keeping an otherwise worthless, sentimental object from him and then spreading lies about him around Hollywood hardly can be written off as a misunderstanding.”

“Sorry, but I agree with Edith,” chirped Lydia from the backseat. “Everyone knows The Pirate King is a dirtbag. Nobody in the cast likes him.”

Jane was still getting used to Lydia’s quirky habit of calling every cast member by their character name. It took her a minute to realize Lydia was referring to Will. I twisted in my seat to address Lydia behind me. “I wonder why Gilbert and Sullivan never gave The Pirate King a name,” I said diplomatically. “We should give him a name to simplify things. How about… oh, I don’t know… Will Darcy?”

“If he is the evil villain Jorge paints him to be,” continued Jane, “why would Bing think so highly of him? I know Bing. His friendship with Will is genuine, and I don’t see how he could be so close with someone so inherently rotten. Jorge’s probably exaggerating.”

“Bing sees the world through rose-colored glasses, Jane,” I replied. “I can more easily believe that Bing is too nice to see the truth, than that Jorge is exaggerating. I could see the very painful memory in his eyes…”

“Blue, blue eyes!” interjected Lydia dreamily.

“…and he wasn’t exaggerating.”

There was a length of silence after I spoke, and Jane drove on, concentrating on the road, but after a long pause, she sighed and said, “Well, it’s hard to know what to think.”

“Excuse me,” I exclaimed, “but I know exactly what to think.”

But she was no longer listening, and I couldn’t help but wonder for the remainder of the ride, whether she was just as deceived as Bing to Will Darcy’s true colors.

Another day of choreography without the men was on the schedule, but I didn’t feel confident we wouldn’t be ‘graced’ with another appearance of Will. A small part of me secretly hoped to run into him like the day before, and this time I’d be armed with a few carefully rehearsed words instead of gushing over Beauty and the Beast like a nine-year-old girl. It wasn’t my fault I was caught unaware. It also wasn’t my fault he was ninja trained to make women swoon with

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