Exit Stage Left Page 11

  “Marie shone and your father was happy to be in the background, cheering her on. But love, pet. Sometimes love just isn’t enough.” She takes my hands in hers.

  Do I want to know what she’s about to tell me? Panic surges, fights for the air in my lungs, for my heartbeat. I’m immobilized by it, forced to listen no matter my desires yea or nay.

  “Marie was a wonderful person,” Aunt Vonda says. “I don’t ever want you to think otherwise. She loved you and your father. But when you’re young, just starting out, things appear one way. All fresh and full of possibility. Then when we start to grow up…” she releases my hands, hers falling into the lap of her blue dress, her eyes downcast. “We can grow apart from those we used to want to spend the rest of our lives with.”

  My mother…

  “Riley,” Aunt Vonda says, “your father lied to you, maybe to protect you. Maybe to protect himself. But your mother didn’t die of an illness. She died in a car accident.” Her jaw jumps. “With the man she loved.”

  ***

  Chapter Seventeen

  Even as I battle denial and anger, the image of a smiling man rises in my mind. I barely remember him, but he wasn’t Dad. Mom introduced us, one day at the park. He drove us around in his shiny convertible and bought me ice cream. I remember wondering why Mom smiled so much.

  “How could she do that?” It’s weird for me to take Dad’s side, especially considering he never has taken mine. But I always thought my parents were happy. Until I came along. I blamed Dad’s hate for me on myself, never knowing it was Mom’s infidelity that drove the wedge between Dad and me.

  Aunt Vonda looked away, cheeks wet with tears. “Everyone makes mistakes,” she says. “And sometimes you can love someone, but that love doesn’t last, for one reason or another.” Her fingers twist together in her lap. “I lost my Sal to cancer far too young. He was only thirty eight, you know.” I nod, empathy for her instantly smothering my anger. “He left me with two kids and a business to run.” She pats my hand again as though the gesture will make everything all right. “I understand your loss, pet,” she says. “How much Ian meant to you. Maybe that loss can help you see how your father reacted the way he did. How it broke his heart and wouldn’t allow him to love you for fear he’d shatter and not be able to put himself back together.”

  I bite my lip. I can’t go there. I think Aunt Vonda knows it, because she goes on.

  “I don’t want you to judge your mother. Neither of us went through what she did. ” Aunt Vonda shakes her head. “Your mother moved on, forced by her career. And she fell out of love with Rick because she outgrew him. It happens, Riley. It’s not nice, and maybe it’s not fair. But it does happen.” She paused. “I know how this sounds. Like Marie chose her career, the stage, over you and your father. But that’s not true at all. She would never put anyone or anything before you.”

  I can’t help but feel betrayed no matter what Aunt Vonda says. “She was going to divorce Dad.” I don’t know why I feel numb from the knowledge. Lots of people break up these days. It’s just I’ve lived a lie my whole life, and now I’m trying to figure out who my father is. Who my mother was. And who I am because of them and the choices they made.

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised Rick lied to you,” Aunt Vonda says with a new edge to her voice as she swipes at her cheeks with one hand. “He never wanted to admit Marie was having an affair.”

  It does explain a great deal to me, though. About how Dad treats me. “He must hate me for reminding him of Mom,” I say.

  And blames acting for his wife’s infidelity.

  My temper blazes to life and I surge to my feet, pacing to the end of the bed, to the window. I stare out, hands clenched at my sides, furious with both of them. At Mom for dying, for cheating on Dad. At my father for punishing me for something I couldn’t change. At myself for allowing him to hurt me over and over again because he didn’t have the balls to tell me the truth.

  The twelve-year-old girl inside me, the one who lost her mother, cries as my anger peaks. I thought my mother was sick. Died suddenly of heart failure because of illness. While all along it was my father’s heart that failed.

  I turn back to Aunt Vonda to see her watching me with nervous sadness of her own.

  “You need to live your own life, pet,” she says. “Not the one Rick seems to think is good for you.” She hurries on before I can reply. “You’ve inspired me,” she says, a smile taking the place of her frown of guilt and grief. “To try new things. I need to go out there and just take that damned pottery class.” She stomps one foot, breaks my mood and I catch myself smiling over her expression of determination. I'm grateful as she continues for helping me wiggle out from under all my own pain for a moment. “I’ve always wanted to,” Aunt Vonda says, hands wringing with clear anxiety. “But I’m afraid.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “You’re afraid?” I find that so hard to believe. The aunt I know has always been a powerhouse, boisterous and charismatic, a widowed mother raising my cousins with a smile and always with a ready hug for me.

  Aunt Vonda’s nose scrunches as she comes around the end of the bed and across the room to stand in front of me. “I know what I look like on the outside.” She pats her hair, a funny physical tic I never noticed until I moved here. “But I’ve had to show my confident side. I've had to step up, out of need, not natural ability. Or I never would have been able to run the business, take care of the kids, go on without Sal.” She steps in and hugs me and I hug her back. “I know flowers,” she says. “But I don’t know courage, not anymore. I’ve allowed myself to fall into the same old thing, day in and day out.” She leans away, smiles up at me. “Trying new things for fun—not out of necessity—has always made me nervous.”

  I’m learning so much about the people in my life today.

  “Now,” she says, letting her hands fall away from me, smile widening, “I’m signed up for tomorrow night. And I’m going.” A quick bob of her head, narrowing of her eyes.

  I love my Aunt Vonda.

  She hugs me when I grab her this time. “You’re awesome,” I say, thinking of Piper and how he’s so right, the night of that first class, when he told me I was awesome no matter what.

  She giggles in my ear, but steps away again, sobering. “No matter your mother’s issues,” she says, “or your father’s, you inherited Marie’s talent. Use it. And don’t let anyone keep you from it.”

  Aunt Vonda leaves my room, closing the door softly behind her. I sit on the end of the bed, still at odds with the lie that’s been my life, unable to generate the energy to hate either one of my parents anymore.

  One thing I’m sure of, though. I’m not my mother. Her image is now far too close to Bianca’s for my liking and I shy from that comparison. I was right to tell Miller not to say anything about being the daughter of Marie St. Clair, and I doubt Bianca will have a reason to bring it up. I don’t want to use my mother’s reputation, fly on her coattails.

  I have my own future to create. One where I make the right choices.

  Now, if only I can figure out what the right choices look like…

  Sighing out my frustration and finally deciding I’ve had enough family drama, I grab my purse and head for Miller’s. To hide in my one true love and see if I can find it in me to forgive my parents for all the hurt I’ve lived in the last nine years.

  Maybe, just maybe, I can then prove to Dad I’m not my mother.

  ***

  Chapter Eighteen

  I stand on the street, gathering my courage and doing my best to keep my heart from pounding out of my chest. All of my confidence from the last two days of rehearsals seems to have left me in a rush, the moment my eyes landed on the address Piper handed me just an hour ago.

  “Break a leg,” he said. Hugged me. I know he wanted to come, but Aleah’s suggestion it would be better for me if the entire gang wasn’t hanging out in the place watching me made sense. Yes, they’d been there all along, but I’m thinking in a live act
ion situation, their focus and attention might be more harm than help.

  I’ve never been hugged so many times in such a short span, finally spinning into the elevator alone.

  Aleah, Miller, and Piper waved goodbye to me as the doors closed and I headed for home to shower and change for my audition. Bless Aunt Vonda for giving me the afternoon off to keep rehearsing. I think she’s still troubled by Dad’s lie about Mom. Though a few hours rehearsing the same night I found out helped me shunt it off to a corner and ignore it for a little while.

  I just want to forget and focus on my future.

  My excitement held through my shower, through carefully dressing in the simple blue sheath and shrug sweater, high heeled sandals, barely there makeup and no jewelry. Hair swept back from my face so the director can see me. I followed all the rules my friends laid out to optimize my chances for casting. I liked what I saw in my bathroom mirror.

  Ian lay on the bed, conjured by my nerves and my need to just have him with me. I’d been doing so less frequently lately, not craving his constant presence, and his form wavered before I lost him and let him go.

  I tried not to be troubled by the fact I’m actually moving on.

  I feel like I have no troubles at all as I stride down the street, bag over my shoulder, precious headshot in a folder tucked inside. Zero nerves until I see that door, the address above it.

  And realize this isn’t just some game, some fantasy. It’s very real.

  I’m about to audition for my first real show and I’m suddenly terrified.

  My phone hums, grabs my attention. I fish it out, check the text from Aunt Vonda.

  So proud of you, pet.

  Tears spike in my eyes, stinging. I bite my lower lip as I text back a smiley face, the best I can manage.

  Look up at the door. Draw a deep breath. It's showtime.

  When I open the door, the air is cool, at least, the city’s heavy air at the beginning of a heat wave. The tiny beads of sweat I didn’t notice on my skin outside now make me shiver in the air conditioning as my skin erupts into goosebumps. I pass through the tiny lobby when a young man behind the ticket counter waves me on. He must know why I’m here.

  Why am I here again?

  The doors to the theater are open and, as I pass through them, my nerves suddenly lessen. This is a very small venue, maybe fifty seats. Nothing like the large theater where I watched Bianca’s show the other night. Something about knowing there will be fewer people in the audience makes me feel better.

  So does the sight of Aleah and Miller sitting off to one side. They weren’t going to come, they promised they wouldn’t. But I’m so happy to see them, I head to greet them, trembling like a leaf under a stiff wind.

  “We’ll leave if you want,” Aleah says instantly even as she hugs me. I shake my head while Miller takes his turn. I draw great comfort from both of them, mostly from the power of Miller’s hug, the way his lips tuck against my ear for a whispered, “you’re beautiful,” before he lets me go. His close familiarity I’ve managed to pass off as friendliness, knowing now he’s with Bianca. The truth of the situation can still make me sad if I let it.

  Not tonight. At least, not now.

  “No, please stay.” Do I sound desperate? I laugh, trying to take the edge off.

  They both chuckle softly and I’m suddenly mindful of the auditions going on at the stage and the volume of my voice. “It’s natural to be nervous,” Miller says. “Just use it.” I look in his eyes and feel the need to talk to him, to ask him about Bianca, his relationship. So odd how I’m losing Ian because of Miller only to understand I can’t have him.

  Makes me think of Mom and Dad.

  I shrug off my parents, Miller and Bianca. It’s none of my business.

  This audition is.

  I turn, look down the aisle toward the small cluster of people sitting on the other side near the front. All girls, like me. Waiting their turn, I suppose. It’s odd to think I’m one of them. I knew I wasn’t the only one, but it’s still weird to see them, to know I’m in competition for this role.

  “I know most of them,” Aleah whispers in my ear. “Not a speck of talent among them. You’ll be fine.”

  Nice of her to say so. I do relax a little, though, reach out and squeeze her hand. “I’ll just do my best,” I say. “And we’ll go from there.”

  The pretty brunette on stage finishes her audition. I haven’t heard a word she said, I’m so nervous. I’m about to join the other girls, glancing at my phone to check the time when I hear someone laugh at the back, looking up as Bianca, Ruben trailing along with her, struts through the doors.

  Aleah’s gasp, Miller’s soft curse, tells me this is a problem. Bianca glances our way, meets my eyes with a surly smirk, all of her false friendliness gone, before approaching the director. Holds out her arms to him as he surges to his feet and hugs her.

  I watch, stomach knotting, as she kisses both of his cheeks. Somehow, I get the feeling she’s not here to tell him he should cast me in the role.

  Reinforced when I catch her words, “Love to audition,” as she pulls away from him. Looks at me again.

  Smiles.

  Aleah curses softly under her breath, loud enough I hear the odd swear through her rant. Miller grasps my arm, pulls me tight against him.

  “Listen to me,” he says, voice low and humming with anger. Is he mad at me? Or her? “She’s just another person. She’s nothing to you. Your audition is all that matters.”

  Her then. I can’t help but think, “Yeah, right.” I know I’ve failed already. Even as Bianca sways her way onto the stage, blonde hair swinging in curls around her, and delivers a flawless audition.

  She makes me tremble. Sigh. I want to weep, and that’s just her performance. By the time she’s done, descending to hug the director again, I’ve already quit.

  And I hate myself for it.

  I stay where I am, knowing I’m pale. I probably look like someone just hit me with a truck. I can barely breathe as Bianca leaves the director, Ruben still behind her, and approaches us.

  She stops right in front of me, crosses her arms over her chest, one foot tapping on the ground while Aleah and Miller close in around me. Ruben looks embarrassed and won’t meet my eyes as Bianca tosses her hair. “Hey there, Riley,” she says with her nasty smile. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

  Ruben twitches. She’s such a liar.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Aleah speaks before Bianca can and I watch the spark of anger trace over the beautiful blonde’s face in answer to being beaten to the punch.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I know she's aiming for a hit, but Aleah’s anger seems to have shoved Bianca into a pouting corner. “Now that I’ve shown little Miss Riley James here how it’s done, I’m sure she’ll be just fine.” Her smile turns to a head-tilt and an eyelash bat. “Won’t you, Riley?”

  “You know exactly what she’s talking about,” Miller hisses. He moves to confront Bianca, leaning close to her so I can barely hear. “This little show is too small for your massive ego,” he says, lips by her ear. “You’re just being a bitch to prove some damned point only you seem to think is important.” He backs away from her, face a mask of disapproval. “Get over yourself for once, Bee. For God’s sake.”

  She snarls at him, pushes him away. “Fuck off, Miller,” she says.

  The only part of this that I can even remotely see as helpful is his reaction to her. That’s not the face of a man who loves a woman.

  Did she lie about them, to hurt me? I don’t have the focus to think it through. My head is spinning.

  “I thought you were one of us,” Aleah says, voice cold. “My mistake.”

  “It’s a free world,” Bianca snarls back. “And the director is a friend.” We noticed. “Besides, if you’re that worried your pathetic little small town can’t compete, she shouldn’t be here.”

  Tosses her head again, glares at me. And then smiles one last time. />
  “Good luck,” she says, rolling her eyes as she turns away. Ruben continues to look down and when Bianca takes his arm, he hesitates. But he leaves with her and I wonder if Piper knows his boyfriend is a traitor asshole.

  Aleah grabs my upper arms, shakes me. “Do not let her ruin this,” she says.

  I nod. But it’s over already.

  I go through the motions because Aleah and Miller want me to. I walk over to sit with the other girls. The auditions are running late. There are several actors ahead of me. I feel myself sinking further into my seat as they audition, knowing they are better than me. That Bianca is better than me. Why am I here? This is crazy. I’m not ready and I never will be.

  When the director calls my name, I almost don’t hear him. Glancing up when he repeats it, I see Bianca sitting behind him. I slip my headshot from the folder, hand it to his assistant who looks irritated at the delay. And drag myself, a step at a time, to the stage.

  I turn and look out over the auditorium, empty but for three girls waiting to audition after me. Miller and Aleah in the back. And the director, Bianca behind him, whispering together. Looking at me. Laughing.

  The director rolls his eyes and nods to something she says. I see him set my headshot aside before I’ve even auditioned. I know what it means, so why bother?

  “Anytime,” he says, voice bored as Bianca sits back with that same hateful smirk on her face.

  I open my mouth, try to find my gift, try so hard to do what Aleah wants, to forget this and just remember the night on the street. My rehearsals. But I can’t.

  My body, my soul, my heart, all frozen. I can’t say a single word.

  It feels like forever, though I know it’s probably only a few seconds. But my confidence is gone, robbed and I’m done.