an Instagram account but rarely opened it these days.
It took Trip only a few seconds to produce the image. “It’s not…awful,” he said, clearly doing his best to minimize the perceived fallout. “Actually, it’s a really hot photo of the two of you. People will talk about it for a few days and then move on to something else.”
She looked down at the photo on Trip’s screen. She was crouched over Carly, their faces very close together, their bodies touching back to front. It looked like she was speaking quietly into Carly’s ear. Carly was smiling. Wonderful, Lauren.
“They should fire me now,” she said with a sigh and tossed the phone onto the table in front of her.
Trip abandoned his task and headed over. His hair seemed sympathetic, having lost its festive bounce, and that helped.
In favor of the larger issue, she shoved aside the other things that viewing the photo did to her, the tightening of her stomach muscles, the warmth that started at her hairline and moved rapidly down her body, making her fingers tingle and dance nervously. She’d never really had to deal with dancing fingers before.
She remembered the moment itself clearly, how Carly’s blond hair had tickled Lauren’s collarbone as she’d spoken quietly. She swallowed.
“Lauren, my noble leader, you’re blushing profusely.”
She glanced up. “Am not.”
“And now you’re telling outright lies, and it’s me.” He turned a chair backward and sat next to her as if in down-to-business mode. “Lala, you have a thing for Carly Daniel? You wouldn’t be the first in this life, so it’s not at all a surprising thing. Let me tell ya. She’s a lesbian. You’re a lesbian. Sometimes lesbians get together and do lesbian things.”
“Please, Trip. I was drinking and trying to be…I don’t know, fun?” She sighed. “Look where it got me. Definitely not a mistake I’ll make again. I need to keep my distance. Decided.”
“Stop it right now, or I’ll hurl this chair through a window like Patti Lupone in a rage.”
“Dramatic.”
“When it comes to this? Yes. I loved that you came out with us. It’s been a while since you’ve attended any kind of gathering outside of the ones that come with formal invitations, and you’re not a nun. Yet.”
Trip’s pep talk fell flat, ineffective in the face of her own minor freak-out. Lauren blinked several times, waiting for her emotions to settle. Any moment now. When they did, she would take full grip of the reins, and conquer this situation the way she did all others. She was type A for a reason, damn it.
Because she didn’t respond, Trip punched her in the arm. Hard.
“Ow,” she said, rubbing the spot. “Why are you beating on me, you lunatic?”
“Because you need to snap out of it. We have a rehearsal to get to, and we can’t do it without you.” A pause. “Our resident Casanova pool shark.”
She gasped in outrage as Trip bounded away. His upbeat, lighthearted demeanor helped alleviate some of her stress. As did his hair.
It didn’t last long.
Ten a.m. came, and with it, the entire cast gathered. Well, except for one. Carly was MIA again, and this time Ethan seemed to truly take notice. “Why are we waiting on her again?” Ethan asked Lauren with an unusual bite in his tone. Even he was growing weary, which said something.
“I’ll call,” she said, offering him an apologetic glance. Not that this was her fault, but stage management often took the brunt of the disdain for rehearsal not going according to plan. That came with the gig. Carly didn’t pick up her first call, or her second, nor her third either. It was now forty minutes into rehearsal, and her understudy, Nia, had taken over to keep them from losing any more valuable time.
“Shall I go bang on her door?” Trip whispered in Lauren’s ear. Normally, that would be the protocol. She’d keep things moving in the room, and her ASM would search out their problem child. Today felt different. Already angry and resenting the hell out of Carly’s presence after what happened this weekend, this behavior only multiplied her frustration.
“No. This is her fourth late arrival, and this one is flagrant. I’m going personally.”
Trip’s eyebrows touched his hairline. He hadn’t expected that response, and she hadn’t expected to give it. “Gotcha. I’ll take over here.”
“I appreciate it,” she said, quietly, scooping up her bag.
Ethan moved to her, having overheard their discussion. “And Lauren? Make sure this doesn’t happen again.”