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

Wow. He was even rude to his friend. Poor, misguided Bing.

“A lot of the cast is going,” Bing pleaded. “Don’t be such a snob.”

“I told you I would help springboard your career. You need to focus.”

“Yeah, I know.” Bing paused like a child under the scrutiny of a schoolmaster. “Listen. Jane asked if I was going. I just want to get to know her better, you know, so our stage kiss won’t be so awkward.”

“Do you plan on going out with every actress you have to kiss on stage or screen?”

“No, but—have you seen her?”

“She smiles too much.”

“She’s a goddess. And her voice!”

“She’s the only girl with a trace of talent in this whole cast.”

“That’s not true. What about her friend? Beth, the girl that plays Edith. She seems good.”

Darcy snorted. “Her? Acutely... mediocre.”

A knot formed in the pit of my stomach. Mediocre? Those were my exact thoughts about Caroline. That would have been a bad enough insult to my ego, but he went on. “She contributes absolutely nothing to this show. I wouldn’t waste my time following her career into obscurity.”

The knot in my abdomen grew into a great, big ball of loathe pie. Have you ever had loathe pie? It’s sweet on the tongue with a bitter aftertaste and sits at the bottom of your stomach like a rock. I wanted to throw that rock right at Darcy’s smug, Hollywood face. Then I wanted to strangle his elegant neck. Then I’d gouge out his striking blue eyes and reach down into his soulless innards and make him eat it. That’s loathe pie.

But I was a grown woman, and I decided Will Darcy didn’t even deserve a slice of my loathe pie. Or any pie. He wasn’t worth a crumb. And I was determined in that moment to let him know it.

I reached into my bag and retrieved my cell phone. A few swipes of my settings, and my ringtone sounded. Through the gaps in the hanging costumes, I could see both men turn their heads, surprised to see me—a hint of guilt played on their features.

I pretended to take a call. “Hello? Oh, hi. No, no, I’m not busy. I’m just leaving rehearsal.” I covered the mouthpiece with the palm of my hand and whispered to Will who was turning a shade of white. “Sorry, it’s my agent.” The shock on his face was pure gold. So I milked it. “Yeah, I’m still looking at those scripts. Well, they’ll just have to fight over me then.” I feigned a show biz laugh. “You know it’s not about the money. It’s the art I care about. I’ll let you know in a couple of days. Sure. Love you too, darling. Ciao.”

I pretended to end the call and returned the phone to my bag as I strutted around the clothing rack and right next to that deplorable man. I looked straight at his pretty face and said pointedly, “Yo, Hotshot Frot. You dropped something. Oh, it’s just your tact. Never mind.” Then I flounced right out of the theatre, through the parking lot, and into my beat-up vintage Volvo. I’d never felt better or worse at the same time. It was some pretty awesome pie.

3

Fine Eyes

Will

She was walking away. I had the urge to run after her. Explain myself. But why? Perhaps to save face. I told myself I didn’t owe her my apology. She wasn’t the press, or anybody really. But watching her tiny little form retreat from me, her resolute chin pointed in the air, while her pigtails bounced behind her head, reminded me a little of my sister. Small but mighty. I shook my head to clear it. She certainly wasn’t anything like my sister. Too much spunk.

And those curves…

“Fastidious.” Bing peered at his phone. It was that lame word of the day app he liked to use. I brought myself back to the present to respond to him.

“Fast hideous?”

“No. It means nit-picky. Hard to please. Hmmm. Sounds like someone I know.”

I grunted. Those weren’t bad qualities.

“Come to the bar.” He waged his brows. “Beth works there.”

If he was trying to tempt me into going to some grease trap hole in the wall so he could score with a pretty blonde, he had to do better than that. Even if that pretty blonde had a hot little pixie for a friend. I didn’t need the distraction. But Bing was new in town and probably wanted to see more of L.A. than the inside of that little room he sub-rented.

“I know a great place on Sunset,” I replied. “I don’t want to name drop or anything, but last time I was there, I ran into Leo DiCaprio.”

I hoped a night out in a legendary Hollywood hangout would give him some perspective. Keep his eye on the prize. But he shook his head and responded with a dopey grin. “The whole cast is expecting us.” Right. The whole cast. What he meant was leggy blonde.

And if I were being honest, I had my thoughts on seeing a particular person myself. Only because I was curious. By the sound of Beth’s phone call, it would seem she had tons of offers on her agent’s desk. Then why would she moonlight at a dive bar? It didn't add up. She didn’t add up. And the touch of her. When she ran into me and thought she’d bloodied her nose. How her cheeks flared into a healthy pink when our eyes met. How she sparked something on my skin with only the briefest contact. Nothing made sense.

So I went with Bing to the bar—not making him any promises how long I’d stay.

I have traveled the expanse of this great earth. I have been in places as diverse as India, Guatemala, Brazil, Germany, China, and South Africa, just to name a few. In my travels, I’ve encountered cities and slums in varying degrees of society, customs, and enlightenment. I’m no stranger