it,” he said, nodding, warming to the characterization. “I have a harmed ass. I’m glad you’re finally acknowledging my pain.”
“Always, Trip. Always. Want to go home now? Cuz it feels like it’s three a.m. and I’m close to death.”
“Quarter to midnight, but yes, please,” he said, snapping out of martyr mode. A thought seemed to pop into his brain. “Excuse me. Lala?”
“Yes?” Lauren asked, smiling at the use of the nickname he’d assigned her years ago.
“Will you be at the after-party tomorrow night? Please don’t say you need to have lonely wine time at home. Lonely wine time is really sad wine time, and you don’t want to be that lady.”
She nodded and ignored his judgmental observation. “I’ll be there. I’m exhausted, numb, and ready to clock out of this one, but it wouldn’t feel right to skip out, you know?” She’d never missed a closing party and didn’t plan to now. There was something important about the cast and creatives coming together socially to say their good-byes, and send the show off into the history books as a united group. Say what you would about a drama-filled production, but once the curtain was down for good, everyone forgot the tumultuous details and fell in love all over again. The glory of theater.
“Perfect. I’ll need you to keep me from flirting with Gregory. It’s your job.” Gregory played Rapunzel’s Prince in the show, and Trip had been drooling over him since they’d started rehearsals. Gregory, however, was the love ’em and leave ’em type, and Trip was more the fall in love and get married type, so Lauren had done her best to run interference.
She raised an eyebrow. “We’re still on that?”
Trip covered his heart. “Can you support my endeavors sans judgment?”
“I can.” He bowed, and she laughed. “Now get out of here, so I can finish my paperwork by five a.m.”
“You mean midnight.”
“It’s whatever. I’m barely alive.”
“One day more!” he sang loudly, giving her his best Les Mis. She had the decency to grin. When he disappeared from sight, she heard several more voices join his chorus. She laughed quietly. Theater people, man. Their world was a unique environment, full of unique individuals who Lauren happened to love, flaws and all.
Just before leaving The McAllister that night, Lauren paused to watch one of her most favorite rituals. A stagehand placed the ghost light center stage and wandered away. Gorgeous. She folded her arms across her chest and let the image affect her. There was no visual she loved more. Something about that solitary light keeping watch over the theater, until they could come back and tell more stories the next day, stole her heart. She leaned into her goose bumps, offering herself a small hug. She stayed another minute and stared at the light, internalizing it, appreciating it, before packing up her bag and heading out. When she arrived in the staff parking lot, she turned back and regarded the looming white building with four long regal columns in front. The amount of theatrical history inside those walls was not lost on Lauren. She carried a great deal of reverence for the theater, and never tired of its demands. They were friends, she and The McAllister. She leaned back against her car. She’d once dreamed about performing on that stage herself. She didn’t dust off those old dreams too often, because why harp on the past, you know? She wasn’t meant to be an actress and clearly understood that now. But there were times when she allowed the twinge of envy to creep in, when she saw others doing what she once longed to do herself and felt the loss. She batted back those wistful thoughts before they got too far along. Hell, she was Lauren Prescott, and holding everything together was her specialty. No time for those kinds of indulgences.
She stood and gave the theater a final nod good night. She’d be back in just eleven short hours for the final Sunday matinee. That meant older patrons and children would cram the house in a jumble of red wine and peanut M&M’s.
First up, her after-show celebratory wine gulping, when she could put her feet up, relax into her own life, and leave the stage management professional on the shelf for another day. Bring on her real world, namely: her dog, her house, and her leggings purposefully purchased one size too large for this very occasion.
* * *
Whoa. Carly Daniel lowered her banana-razzmatazz-kale smoothie and set it on her