“Do they have fans?” Tyler asked, taking the bag.
“More or less. Stage right. Hurry up and change. We’re only a few more slots down the list.”
“Good. I need to get through pretty quickly. I’ve got to pick up Ollie at seven, before Dad’s poker game.”
Tyler hit the dressing rooms, slipping out of her work clothes and into the leotard and skirt Piper had packed for her. There was no telling where she’d dug that up. It still fit, though. She paused, a hair clip in hand, and studied herself in the bright lights of the mirror. For a moment she saw roses, smelled the scents of makeup and warm curling irons, as a much younger, more idealistic version of herself waited to go on stage for the performance she never dreamed would be her last.
She shrugged off the memory, twisting her hair up off her neck and clipping it into place. No one had made that her last performance but her. And it was time to get over it and get back on that horse. As someone else was finishing up an audition with the “Blessings” number, she slipped on her dance shoes and felt like she’d come home. Singing a series of scales, she began to stretch and limber up.
Piper stuck her head through the dressing room door. “We’re on.”
Tyler took the offered fan, a blue poster board concoction that had obviously been thrown together in a hurry with duct tape and no small amount imagination, and followed her friend out onto the familiar stage. The floorboards were worn, scuffed by years of feet, marred by residue from tape that indicated places from past performances. Without a backdrop, the stage opened all the way to the black back curtain. The space seemed cavernous. The lights were up, so she couldn’t actually see more than the vaguest outline of Nate in his seat.
“Tyler Edison. Well, it’s about damn time you came back. Good to see you.”
She lifted her hand in a wave.
“I guess I don’t have to ask which number you two are doing,” he said. “Go on then.”
Tyler raised the fan in front of her face and mirrored Piper’s position, grinning at her as the music began to play. There was no set, no costumes, no props other than the fans in their hands, but she didn’t need any of that to slip into the role of Judy Haynes. She fell into harmony with Piper as if it had been a day, not years, since they’d performed together at something other than karaoke. They played off each other, grinning, glaring, sparking with all the subtle and not so subtle cues that fed the audience and told the story.
God, she’d missed this! Her body felt electrified, alive, fueled by the music.
They finished the routine and danced off stage left to a smattering of applause from those still congregated to see the rest of auditions.
Piper held up a hand for a high five. “Nailed it.”
Tyler slapped her hand, followed up with a hip bump. “We’ve still got it.”
~*~
She was still here.
Brody stared at the empty spot on the stage where Tyler had just flounced off. He’d convinced himself that she’d be long gone, as he had. That there was nothing left for her here. It was how
he’d been able to accept the hotel job without so much as blinking.
But there she was, exactly where she should be. It was a sucker punch to the gut. God. After all these years, she still left him breathless.
Someone slid into the seat next to him. “Well, if it isn’t the ghost of performances past.”
Mind reeling, Brody didn’t immediately process the voice. He turned his head, stared at the face with the curiously blank expression. Then his brain kicked into gear. The face was older—weren’t they all?—and a bit craggier than he remembered.
“Tucker.” Brody wanted to smile, but he wasn’t sure of his reception. Tyler hadn’t been the only one he’d left behind.
“What’re you doing here?” There was no accusation in Tucker’s tone, just mild interest. It was as good as a shout. The quieter Tucker got, the more pissed he was. And Brody was forced to admit he had a right to be pissed.
“Thought I’d audition,” he said, though he knew Tucker hadn’t meant here in the theater. “I’m in town for a job for a few months. Thought it’d be good to get back on stage.”
Slowly, Tucker nodded. “Your timing’s pretty good. We need the big guns to save the Madrigal.”
“Save it?”
“It’s fallen on pretty hard times, what with the economy being like it is. Old Mr. Stanton died earlier this year and his kids dug into the books. Turns out the place is on the verge of foreclosure. This show is our last ditch effort to try and raise the money to get a reprieve. We could use some of the old magic to pack ’em in.”
Spying Tyler leaning over to say something to Nate, Brody sank lower in his chair and called himself a coward. “I’m pretty sure the magic’s dead.”
“Is that why you left?” For all his moves, Tucker wouldn’t dance around the truth.