Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set

stammered. It actually surprised me I even got that word out.
He didn’t respond with words. He did that chin nod thing that’s the gangster equivalent of ‘Hey, wut up’ even though he clearly was not a gangster. Then he frowned at his phone and tucked it in his messenger bag. Yes, the man carried a messenger bag like a bohemian hipster. It didn’t add up to his Gucci loafers and Bulova watch. (couldn’t help but notice those, too)
I allowed myself to recover from that somewhat standoffish greeting, giving him a smile anyway. Sometimes people just need a smile. I continued on with the office of hydrating myself with the complimentary water. I noted with a measure of discontent that all the bottles were kept cold. I preferred room temperature water as a rule. Better for the vocal cords. Also, cold water seems to make me pee more. Pretty sure that’s scientifically proven. But I was thirsty, and I’d forgotten to bring my Hydro Flask.
The hot stranger was scowling at his sheet music by this point. So he was in the show, too? Probably not hiding like I was. But also not in dancewear. I knew exactly what he was thinking as he stared at the score. The music was incredibly hard, operatic in nature with lots and lots of words. Especially the pitter-patter songs.
I strode towards him, feeling comical and witty. Who knows why, but something inside me emboldened a sudden sauciness. Standing on my tippy toes to glance over his broad arm at the sheet music, I quipped, “Far too many notes for my taste.”
“What?” He turned his head just enough to glare over me sidelong.
“Uh… notes?” I forced a laugh, grasping at the hope he’d get my humor. “From Phantom of the Opera. Just a little musical theatre joke.”
I sang it this time. “Far too many notes for my taste, la la la…”
He didn’t get my humor. He seemed adamantly opposed to it. There was a definite Ebenezer Scrooge quality to his stare. Next, he would surely say, ‘Every idiot who goes about with musical theatre jokes on her lips should be boiled in her own pudding and buried with a conductor’s baton through her heart.’
He frowned and those beautiful blue eyes turned to ice. What was with this guy? I was just trying to be friendly.
His lips drew into a thin line, and his gaze moved over my form in open assessment. I supposed by the way his eyebrows lurched down, he didn’t like what he saw. There wasn’t much to see, really. I was five foot one and a half on a good day and my girls only wished they filled out my fandom t-shirt. This particular day, my hair was fashioned in two loose braids which wasn’t helping me appear at all adultish. And I didn’t even bother with a swipe of mascara. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone when I got dressed in the morning, but maybe I should have put a little more thought into my outfit.
Not that I cared what anybody thought, mind you. But this guy looked at me like a vegan would look at a plate full of raw bacon. He closed his music binder, turned on his heel, and left the room without so much as a syllable from his lips.
So much for introductions.
The one thing that settled my nerves as I took my place among the other cast members in the rehearsal hall was that my friend Jane finally arrived. We shared an apartment but had to take separate cars since she had a photoshoot at the crack of dawn. Something about a sunrise theme for a big name fashion magazine. Her usual gig was modeling wedding dresses, but her love was musical theatre. She landed the lead role of Mabel when we auditioned for Pirates of Penzance together and blew all the other Mabel hopefuls out of the water. Then there was me. Surely they meant to call a different Beth Bennet.
I lifted my binder of sheet music over my face and whispered in her ear. “I’m just going to hide under your rehearsal skirt like a woodland animal for the next few weeks. Okay?”
She grinned, regarding me with amusement, her perfect teeth and flawless skin just another modus to render me invisible to anyone with a pulse. Who would pay any attention to little ‘ol Pluto when the very sun shone upon them? I winced and figured I’d bask in the shadow of her glory for the unforeseeable future. I was perfectly content being the less pretty friend. Maybe, with Jane in the room, the hot stranger would forget about our awkward encounter—wherever he was.
“You’ll be brilliant, Beth,” she said sweetly. “You’re the most talented person I know.”
I snorted. “Yeah right. Have you met yourself?”
Poor Jane. She had to put up with my loud shower singing through the thin walls of our apartment. Between a full time job waiting tables and rehearsals for whatever show I was in at the time, the shower was where I did most of my memorizing. Pro tip: Laminated sheet music suctioned to the shower walls. You’re welcome. If only I could figure out a way to get a waterproof piano in there to work on my high notes because, let’s face it, everything sounds better in the shower. Amiright?
“I’m actually surprised none of our neighbors has complained yet,” I said, more to myself.
A squeal behind me shook me from my imposter syndrome.
“Did you hear? The guy cast as Frederic is coming right from a national tour.”
The squeal belonged to Lydia, a girl I knew from a previous show. The Little Women show. The paint thinner one. She leaned in between Jane and me and propped her chin on my shoulder, bouncing her eyes around the room at the twenty or so male cast members. “Which one do you think he is? I hear he’s eye candy.”
Please let it not be the jerk from the green room. Please!
Lydia tilted her face towards Jane like a little bird and smiled. “Oh,