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

took advantage of every opportunity I had to observe the way they acted in private—away from the theatre. Bing was like a docile puppy dog; he’d follow her around anywhere. But I didn’t sense she felt the same for him. She was aloof—she almost seemed bored around him. That’s when I knew it wasn’t worth it.

If I didn’t intervene, he would have lived the rest of his life with regret. I’ve seen too much pain because of unequal relationships. I don’t think I did anything wrong in pointing out to him the consequences of making a big mistake like that. If Jane’s feelings were hurt in the process, I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for anyone to get hurt. I’m sure you’ll probably disagree with me about everything. But that’s how I saw the situation, and I stand by my decision to protect my friend.

At this point, I didn’t want to read any further. I was tempted to rip that letter to shreds. I wanted to douse it in gasoline and set it on fire. I wanted to attach it to a rocket and send it into space. But then I felt sorry for the extraterrestrials and thought better of it. Just the fact that he touched the paper grated on my nerves. Typical Hollywood actor, so wrapped up in his own ego, he couldn’t see how much two people loved each other. Unbelievable. Jane wasn’t the type to act like an imbecile when she liked a guy. That was Lydia’s department. What did he expect? A soliloquy? And how dare he? How dare he make assumptions based on a few fleeting observations? Ugh! I could have punched somebody. I exerted my anger by laying my fist down hard on the horn. A guy getting out of his Ford truck whipped his head around, looking for the culprit. He was out for blood over such an offense.

I decided to head home, lest I do something rendering me a public nuisance. All throughout the drive, my thoughts simmered on the haughty words in that letter. Dating Jane wasn’t worth it? He would have lived the rest of his life with regret? Who gave Will the authority to interpret those signals for Bing? What was even in it for him? One would imagine, by the tone of his words and the half-baked excuses he made, his reputation was hinged on Bing’s life choices. News flash: Will didn’t have much of a reputation to uphold. He took his shirt off and ran from explosions to make box office millions. Who cared about his little escapade at a venue below his skill level. What a Judas. I’m sure none of his fans had even heard of Gilbert and Sullivan, much less Pirates of Penzance.

By the time I arrived at the apartment, my knuckles were white. I didn’t even realize how tight I gripped the steering wheel. It was rather painful to pry them loose. I had my sights set on a B.L.T. and the whole bag of kettle chips I stole from my parents’ house. Then I would lock myself in my room and decide if I wanted to give Will’s letter any more of my time, or if I wanted to flush it down the toilet. After some thought, I decided the letter didn’t deserve the honor of clogging up my plumbing, so it sat in my purse, taunting me as I made my sandwich.

Jane and Lydia were still in their pajamas and messy buns. I envied them. Why was I the only one with a crappy job? An Equity paycheck was good enough for them. It should have been more than adequate for me too. I truly considered the advice Fitz gave me. There are no guarantees. Take a chance. Put yourself out there. I made a mental note to call him later to apologize. There were no messages from him on my phone. Maybe he saw me talking to Will. Ugh! Will. My eyes drifted to my purse—like if I stared at it hard enough, my x-ray vision might kick in.

To add to the noise level in my little apartment, Holly was visiting. She and Lydia were making plans that sounded rather ominous.

“Don’t take any expensive jewelry—and if you want fireworks, Cole knows a guy.” Holly perused internet articles on her phone, exchanging advice with Lydia. “We’ll be on the boat most of the time, but if we go anywhere, stash a roll of toilet paper in your purse. I guess they don’t provide toilet paper in public restrooms.”

“B.Y.O.T.P.,” Lydia quipped.

“Oh!” Holly frowned at her phone. “This article doesn’t recommend carrying a purse at all.”

“How about a beach bag?” Lydia suggested.

Holly shook her head solemnly. “Nope. A friend of mine had her beach bag stolen when she was distracted by a good-looking guy who pointed out a mustard stain on her shoulder. Apparently, it’s a big scam. One guy squirts condiments on your back and steals anything you set on the floor while the other guy distracts you with his bedroom, Latin-lover eyes.”

Lydia laughed. “The only thing they’ll steal from me is a roll of toilet paper and some sunscreen. I plan on putting my pesos in my bathing suit.”

She grabbed her boobs and wiggled them, shaking her butt for extra flavor.

“What are you two talking about?” I asked with a trace of annoyance in my tone.

Lydia spread her palms, pumping her party-girl arms over her head.

“We’re going to Mex-i-co!”

Then she hooted like she was already at some Tijuana nightclub doing shots. She hadn’t even left the living room and already she was acting like a dingbat.

“We’re going on Cole’s boat,” Holly explained. “Definitely Ensenada, but maybe we’ll make it as far as Cabo.”

Lydia rocked her head in agreement. “Papas and Beer!”

“And fishing,” Holly added. “Cole loves to fish.”

Lydia winced, offended by the imaginary fish smell.

“Are you sure you should be going to Mexico?” I asked Lydia. “You got Montezuma’s Revenge when you went to lunch in Chula Vista. Besides, I don’t