Rogue Beast (The Rourkes #12) - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,63
again, then Garrett sprang the meet my parents invitation on me, which is nerve-racking enough, and then he tells me he booked another commercial. I’m happy for him. Really. How could I not be when he’s so excited? I can’t help it if my first gut reaction is wariness. I’m working past that. I don’t want to ruin a good thing just because my instincts shoot up warning signals. In this case, they’re wrong. I have to believe that.
We’re ushered into the theater through a back entrance and make our way to a side door, where we’re escorted to our center seats. I try to relax. This is my favorite show, after all. I’ve seen it nine times. I love the music, but most of all I love the story of the misunderstood wicked witch, who everyone judges just because she looks different. She was born with green skin. It’s a reminder to consider a person’s character more than their appearance. As an actor I work hard to get to the essence of a character.
The show begins a short while later, and I catch myself watching Garrett out of the corner of my eye just as much as the action onstage. He seems to be soaking it in. I hope he likes it. I’d love to take him to more Broadway shows.
As soon as the curtains close for intermission and the house lights turn on, I ask, “What do you think so far?”
“Amazing. I’m really into live music, and this is an art form all on its own, the way they tell a story with it. And the pipes on those two lead actresses, incredible!”
I beam. He gets it. “Yes. Only the best of the best make it to Broadway. There’s never a bad performance. At least I’ve never seen one.”
He nudges my arm. “How many times have you seen this one?”
“Number ten tonight. And I’d see it weekly if I could. Afterward, I’m supposed to meet some of the cast and get some pictures with them.”
“You didn’t tell me that part. I’ll get them to sign my program.”
“Sure.” I lean close. “And then we can go back to my place and pick up where we left off earlier.”
He grins and taps my nose. “Horny beast.”
“Guilty.” I laugh. No one’s ever called me a beast.
After the show, which was incredible, we wait for the audience to clear out before slipping behind the curtains to meet the cast. They’re pumped up after their performance, and it’s great to see everyone again. I’ve seen this particular cast three times.
The actress who plays the good witch signs Garrett’s program, and a photographer my publicist called gets a picture of them together. I join them, and they take more pictures. Next they get a shot of us with the wicked witch and then with the whole cast.
“We’re going out after this,” Glinda the good witch (aka Laurie) says. “You want to meet up?”
Garrett puts an arm around me. “Actually, Harper can’t wait to get me back to her place.”
I smack his chest playfully, secretly glad he’s not diving into the party scene. I want him to want me for me, not the glitzy stuff around me.
“Ooh, Harp, looks like you got a real man on your hands.” Laurie licks her finger and does a sizzling sound when she touches his shoulder.
Garrett laughs.
“So great to see you all. Fantastic performance,” I say. “Have fun tonight!”
I head out but not before I hear her sing-song, “You too, sexy mama.”
I laugh.
Garrett holds my hand, entwining his fingers with mine as we meet up with Joe and head out the back entrance. No creepers or paparazzi, and we make it safely into the car. I breathe a sigh of relief.
“I can see why you like the show,” he says. “You’re the wicked witch, and your grandmother is the good witch.”
I suck in air. I cannot believe he saw that. It’s true. Their lives are intertwined, at odds, one struggling, the other sailing through. I always felt wicked, unable to live up to her strict standards.
“What happened to your parents?” he asks gently.
Not only is he extremely intuitive and sensitive, but he also takes great care with me. It makes me want to share.
I whisper in his ear, “I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours. Not here.”
“Sure. My story is boring though.”
“Ha! Nothing boring about being born royalty. Are your sisters-in-law considered princesses?”
He lifts his brows. “As a matter of fact they are.”