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

a glimpse of him for the rest of the day. It annoyed me how much Will’s presence repelled him, but surprisingly, I didn’t miss him when he slipped into the shadows. I had more pressing concerns in the forefront of my mind.

Caroline was the only female besides Stella in the cast not enamored by Jorge. I couldn’t give her much credit for that, though, because she took the first opportunity to tell me all about her opinion.

“Don’t be fooled by his good looks, Eliza,” she said when we were alone. “I’ve heard some things about Jorge that weren’t very pretty.”

“Oh?” I said. “What things?”

“Just things.” She bristled at my question. “He was involved in some crime against Will.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“I don’t remember exactly,” she huffed. “But I wouldn’t expect it was very minor—considering his background. They should crack down harder on illegal immigrants.”

Wow. Just wow. She was such a snob, I was almost speechless. Almost.

“So, you’re telling me he’s a criminal because he’s not white? Unbelievable.”

Her jaw fell to her chin, and she made a spiteful guttural sound in her throat.

“I was trying to be helpful, Eliza. Excuse me for being a friend.”

She flipped her hair and stomped away.

Friend. Yeah, right.

My true friend, Jane, was who I was most concerned about. She was never a very chatty individual to begin with, but something of a melancholy appeared to have overshadowed her. She was distant and closed off. What was going on with her? I directed my gaze to Bing and noticed a stiffness in his posture and a subdued remoteness in his demeanor. His back was turned to her from the opposite side of the stage as he inspected every inch of the pirate ship, giving it more interest than necessary. That wasn’t extraordinary in itself as he would have to familiarize himself with every detail for safety purposes. But as the day progressed, I watched him with a deeper level of scrutiny and noted his aloof disregard toward Jane whenever they weren’t acting on stage. As soon as a scene would end, they would break apart, and he’d walk away from her, putting as much distance between them as possible. I wanted to ask her what happened. I also wanted to kick him in the shins. Had they been fighting? I was so caught up in everything I’d been going through over the holiday weekend, I hadn’t noticed anything amiss. I was working at the lodge all the time. After the Yam Incident, as Charlotte merrily called it, Mr. Lucas had me working every day. I was a slave to Lucas Lodge for the unforeseeable future, and as a result, I’d hardly been home. I was also unable to carpool to rehearsals.

The moment rehearsal ended both Monday and Tuesday, Jane bolted out of the theatre. By the time I arrived home after a crappy late shift, she was locked in her room asleep. I couldn’t even talk to her during lunch breaks. Whenever I had a tender moment to ask her how she was, she’d feign a smile and give me a laconic reply. “I’m fine,” she’d say dismissively and shut me out completely.

It was Friday afternoon when it became such a problem, Lydia frantically interrupted my shift at the lodge.

“What time are you off?” she inquired anxiously, barging into the dining room like a ferret on fire.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Lydia was the type of girl who’d never set foot in a place like Lucas Lodge. Yes, she was wild with a side of crazy. Yes, she was poorer than dirt. Yes, she had her share of dancing on tables at sports bars. But she was also overly vain with her hot girl image. I guess Lucas Lodge was below even her low standards. Therefore, I knew there had to be some urgent business for her to seek me out at work. A slew of images ran through my mind. Did the landlord finally get fed up with her party girl antics and evict us?

“Did you go skinny dipping in the pool again?” I asked, bracing myself for her answer. She stared at me for a second with her big Disney princess eyes. I could almost hear the gears clicking away as she contemplated my question.

“There were no children present this time,” she said defensively. “But that’s nothing.”

Here we go.

“It’s Jane,” she said with a heavy exhale.

“Jane went skinny dipping?”

“No!” she cried. “She’s been watching Spanish soap operas on marathon.”

That was bad. That was really bad. Jane didn’t understand a word in Spanish. She couldn’t pronounce taco correctly to save her life. The last time she watched telenovelas, it took three people to peel her off the couch and force her to take a cold shower.

“Is she eating?” I asked.

“Just dry cereal straight out of the box,” she said. “We’re out of Cap’n Crunch.”

This was serious. More serious than last time. She needed some next level intervention.

“You need to come home NOW,” Lydia continued. “I can’t even cross the living room without her demon stare shooting hexes in my direction. I’m this close to calling an exorcist.” She held up her thumb and forefinger to illustrate.

I had another forty-five minutes before my meal break. If Charlotte could cover my remaining tables, I might have time to check on Jane before the dinner crowd. God bless her sweet freckled face, because she pulled through for me without hesitation. I got the rest of the night off.

“Take the weekend,” she said with a smile. “You deserve it.”

I found Jane in the darkened living room just as Lydia described her—slouched on the sofa, staring mindlessly at an over-acting Latina bombshell with rivers of mascara trailing down her cheeks. Her hairy chested love interest had his chiseled jaw set in a scowl so fierce he could cut steel with it. He was lustily saying something that had her wailing in a pool of tears and when her manicured hand flew to slap him, he caught her wrist and pulled her