Business as Usual (Off The Subject) Read online

  I offer him a tight smile. I always worry that someday he’ll decide I’m not worth the sacrifice.

  “No, it’s you I worry about.” He pauses then adds. “You’ve been so unhappy since your break up with Brandon.”

  “I’m fine, Reed. I promise. I was sad, but I’m better and I thoroughly love what I’m doing with the children’s charity. I’ve never felt more fulfilled.”

  He looks relieved.

  “I want to concentrate on school and work. I don’t need a boyfriend right now.” I offer him a smug grin. “I thought you of all people would appreciate that.”

  “Trust me, I do. But Caroline disagrees. You’re a college sophomore who lives with her brother and his fiancée. Caroline worries that I’m sheltering you too much and that you’re not getting the most out of your college experience. And I have to wonder if she’s right, as hard as that is to accept.”

  I gasp. “You’re admitting that someone else is right? Is the world coming to an end?”

  He looks out the windowed partition at the guy he left at the table and moves toward the door. “Very funny. I have no problem admitting if someone’s right and I’m wrong. It’s just a rarity.”

  “No wonder all your tutors are quitting.”

  He scowls. “No. It’s a matter of rules. The tutors who left refused to follow them.”

  “Just go easy on them and they might stick around longer.”

  “Now you sound like Caroline.” He gives me an amused look as he opens the door.

  I stare into his eyes and say in mock sincerity, “Listen to the women in your life, Reed. We want what’s best for you.”

  “So you keep saying…” I love it when my serious brother teases me. “Come on, I need to get back to work.” He walks with me through the tutoring room and into the hall. “I probably won’t see you before the play, so break a leg.”

  “Thanks. But I’ll see you after the performance, right?” I want to ask him if Caroline has warned him about my costume, but another part of me doesn’t want to start that potential argument.

  He grins. “Of course.”

  I head to the parking lot and search for my car. It’s not hard to spot. Reed and I shared a car last semester, but in Caroline’s quest to convince him to give me more independence, Reed and I went car shopping shortly after the New Year. He insisted on something “safe,” so we found a used Volvo. White, of course. The safest paint color for cars, according to him. A family-style sedan is hardly my dream car, but at least it’s not a minivan. And it’s all mine.

  When I walk in the front door of the apartment, a delicious smell hits me in the face. “Oh, what is that?”

  Caroline is in the kitchen standing in front of the stove with a spatula in her hand. “Some frozen meal I found at the grocery store. Want some?”

  “Sure. I’m going to change first.” While the business-casual ensemble I’m wearing would work for the speech I’ve prepared for the audience before the play, I want to look as polished and professional as possible. I’m hoping to get more pledges tonight. I settle on a blue dress that looks professional but is soft enough not to look cold and overbearing.

  When I return, there are two plates with some pasta and chicken concoction on the bar with glasses of water.

  “I thought we could ride together since I’m helping with the costumes and makeup.” Caroline says, setting silverware down next to each plate. “Then I can ride home with Reed and you can have the car. Maybe go out and have some fun with the cast afterward.”

  “Caroline,” I grumble as I sit down in front of my dinner. “You don’t have to organize my social calendar. I’m doing just fine.”

  “You’re not,” Caroline says softly from the seat next to mine.

  “Just because—”

  She leans toward me, her eyes serious. “You’re not, Lexi. I see it in your eyes. Something happened to you that night you went out with Brandon before Christmas. Something broke inside you. I keep hoping I’m wrong about that, that I’m seeing things that aren’t there, but something’s wrong. I know it.” She takes my hand. “Lexi, I love you. Tell me what happened.”

  I’m tempted. But it’s humiliating enough to talk about my issues with my therapist. I can’t imagine discussing them with Caroline. “I’m just sad. Brandon was a great guy, but I always suspected he had feelings for his ex. Turns out I was right.” My lies will surely land me in hell, yet I tell them anyway. “But now it’s behind me and the work I’m doing has given me a purpose, which is making me a different kind of happy.”

  “But it’s not fun. To get a full college experience you need to have fun.”

  I shake my head and chuckle. “Some days I swear Southern has hired you as a student ambassador.”

  “I care about you. When did that become a crime?”

  “Caroline, you were throwing the full college experience line at me before you and Reed even started dating.”

  She laughs. “So I want you have fun. Humor me just this once.”

  “Okay,” I give in with a grin. “If anyone goes out tonight, I’ll go too.”

  Her face lights up. “Great. Promise?”

  “Fine, I promise.” She never specified how long I had to stay. I take a big bite of my pasta to put a stop to the conversation.

  An hour later, things are progressing well behind stage at the theater. The director and the stage crew manager have everything under control. There are some opening-night jitters, but everyone seems upbeat and ready. Promptly at seven, I walk out in front of the curtain to address the audience. Even though ticket sales have been brisk, I’m surprised to see a mostly full theater. Granted, the Hillsdale Theater isn’t huge, but there are at least three hundred seats. At ten dollars a ticket, we’re bound to make even more money than expected. And we still have a performance tomorrow night.

  “Hi, my name is Lexi Pendergraft and I’m a student at Southern University.” I pause, flashing a smile. “I also work with the Middle Tennessee Children’s Charity. As most of you know, the charity has provided a multitude of invaluable services to children in need in the Middle Tennessee area, from after-school tutoring and assistance with clothing and school supplies to the popular summer program for elementary-aged children. Middle-school-aged children tend to slip through the cracks—they’re too old for daycare but too young to leave unsupervised for eight to ten hours a day. With that in mind, we’ve decided to enhance the summer program by adding activities for these children. After the play tonight, cast members will be in the lobby with buckets. We are so grateful that you’ve already contributed to our work by purchasing a ticket, but if you could be generous enough to make an additional donation, it would very much appreciated. Also, if you own a business or know of any business owners who might be willing to sponsor the program, please stop by and see me after tonight’s production of The Eternal Bachelor.”

  The audience applauds and I walk offstage as the house lights fade and the show begins. Even though my short scene isn’t until the second act, Caroline helps me with my makeup and stuffs the long black wig on my head.

  I stare at my reflection, unnerved by the sight without being entirely sure why. It’s me. I can see that, but there’s something different in the face of the woman in the mirror, something I can’t place. And then I realize what it is.

  She doesn’t look broken.

  Caroline stands behind me, leaning over my shoulder. “You’re stunning.”

  I don’t say anything. I look exactly like I did last night, so I’m not sure why something about tonight is different.

  “I’m going to find Reed. Break a leg, Lex.”

  “Thanks.”

  She leaves me sitting in front of the mirror, and I finally realize what has happened. Playing a part is all about trying on someone else’s skin, and my character in the play is a woman who’s confident in her sexuality. Maybe this is what I needed to do all along.

  Only I’m not naïve enough to think it’s that simple, that you can make som
ething happen just by wishing it were so.

  I give my head a sharp shake. How ridiculous. The woman in the mirror is me.

  I feel narcissistic staring at my reflection so long, and I look around to see if anyone has caught me. Everyone is hanging out, waiting to perform their various roles. I push my chair back and get up. I need to make sure everything is still going well.

  The cast and crew are psyched at intermission. Tonight’s performance has gone even better than any of the rehearsals. The second act is shorter than the first and soon it’s time for me to walk onstage and deliver my line. I’m surprised to find myself nervous. I’ve played a role in my mother’s philanthropy projects for as long as I can remember, so I’m used to standing in front of large crowds and delivering speeches. One line should be nothing.

  Thankfully, I deliver my line flawlessly. But as I wait for the play to wrap up, I realize there’s a major downside to wearing a wig for my appearance in the play. My hair is pinned up and under the wig, so I won’t be able to take it off before I meet and greet people.

  Rob, the guy who struts on stage when I deliver my one line, takes one look at me and walks over. “What’s wrong?”

  I blink up at him in confusion.

  “Your face is an open book, Lexi. You’re worried about something.” He puts his hands on my arms and rubs briskly. “Relax. It’s our best run yet.”

  “It’s my wig.” I reach up to touch it, feeling stupid and superficial. “I need to meet people after the play. I can’t take this off because my hair will be a disaster, but I suspect no one will know who I am if I have a different hair color. I’m liable to miss out on some networking opportunities.”

  He studies me for a moment then places his finger under my jaw and gently lifts it, a grin spreading across his face. “Chin up. Gotcha covered.”

  Rob is a seriously good-looking guy and I can see why so many girls fall all over themselves to go out with him. He looks like a surfer dude with his blond hair, unseasonal tan, and playful eyes. Still, I’m not his type at all. He seems interested in girls who have fluff for brains and Victoria Secret pushup bras. I’m barely a B-cup.

  Before I can ask what he has planned, the curtain lowers and the cast begins to line up for their curtain call. Since I’m an extra with a line, I’m in the first group to take a bow. The crowd applauds and by the time Rob and the actress who plays his love interest take their bows, there’s a standing ovation. Rob backs up and grabs my arm, pulling me to the front of the stage. He announces, “This wouldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for the amazing efforts of Lexi Pendergraft.”

  The cast and crew point to me as the cheers in the audience grow louder.

  He grins. “Like I told you,” he said in an undertone. “Gotcha covered.”

  Heat rise to my cheeks.

  Rob leans into my ear and whispers, “You’re adorable when you blush.”

  I cast a quizzical look in his direction, wondering if I’ve pegged him wrong. When the applause dies down, the curtain lowers and I follow the cast into the lobby. Dozens of people offer me their congratulations, and the cast members with buckets seem to be surrounded by people, particularly Rob, who’s attracted the attention of quite a few younger women. His container seems to be fuller than any of the others.

  I speak with several small business owners who seem genuinely interested in sponsoring the program, especially when I describe the expanded scope to them. Three businesses agree to set up meetings with me. None of them are solid agreements, but this is a huge step.

  Once I have a breather, Reed and Caroline walk over. I can tell Reed is less than thrilled with my costume, but surprisingly enough, he doesn’t say a word. Instead he hugs me. “I’m so proud of you, Lexi. What you did tonight is nothing short of amazing.”

  “My part was very, very small, Reed.”

  “Not the part. The coordination of this whole event. I know it was a huge undertaking that came together in a matter of weeks.”

  I squirm. “I didn’t do it on my own.”

  “No, but it wouldn’t have happened without you.”

  Caroline grabs my arm. “Lexi, will you just admit that you worked your ass off to make this happen and that it was a huge success?”

  “Well, we still have a performance tomorrow night. Things might still go wrong.”

  “Lexi.” Her voice takes on a threatening note.

  “Okay. I worked hard and it turned out well.” I tilt my head. “Happy now?”

  Her grin lights up her face. “Yes.”

  I grin back. “Thank you.”

  “So what do you need to do before you head home?” Reed asks.

  Sylvia sneaks up behind me and wraps her arm around my shoulders. “She’s going out with the cast and crew to celebrate a successful opening night.”

  Reed’s eyes dart to my costume. “You’re going to change first, aren’t you?”

  “Reed!” Caroline protests.

  “Yes,” I say to keep the peace. “I’m going to change. This is my costume and I have to wear it for tomorrow night’s performance.”

  “What do you plan on doing?” Reed asks.

  “Reed.” Caroline glares at him.

  “We’re going to walk down to the bar down the street and have a drink,” Sylvia says, dropping her hold on me.

  I shake my head. “Don’t worry, big brother. We won’t be out late because we have another performance tomorrow night.”

  Reed doesn’t look convinced, but he just frowns and says, “Just be careful, Lexi.”

  “You know that I will.”

  His struggle is obvious, and though a part of me bristles, his protectiveness makes me love him even more.

  “Don’t worry,” Sylvia says. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  Not surprisingly, Reed doesn’t look reassured by this.

  Caroline gives me a hug. “Have fun.”

  She drags my brother away and Sylvia releases a low whistle. “How in the world do you deal with him? He’s a bigger hard-ass than my dad, and that’s saying something.”

  “He means well.”

  “He’s stifling.”

  I could argue with her, but it’s pointless, especially when there’s some truth to her statement.

  The cast is already in the back changing while the crew counts the buckets of money. When we’re ready to leave, they’ve finished tallying it up. “Four thousand, three hundred and fifty six dollars in addition to the two thousand in preshow ticket sales,” Leo, the guy in charge of the light crew, announces. “And that’s just for the first night.”

  We all cheer our success and someone shouts, “To the bar!”

  Sylvia links her arm through mine. “Let’s go have some fun.”

  Chapter Four

  Lexi

  The cool air hits us in the face. Februaries in middle Tennessee are typically mild, and tonight is no exception, but the sun is down and there’s a wind from the north. I may still be wearing my wig, but I’ve changed out of my sequined shirt and leather skirt. I’m wearing the dress I wore to address the audience before the play, and the breeze chills my bare legs. Despite my freezing limbs, I’m happy with my appearance. I’d intended to look professional while addressing the audience, and the collar helped with that, but the V-neck and flouncy skirt of the soft blue fabric will help me look less boardroom and more up for a night of fun.

  “Oh, shit it’s cold.” Sylvia grabs my wrist and tugs me along as she tries to run in her stilettos past a group in front of us.

  “You’re going to break both of our necks.” While I’m used to walking in heels, I’ve never tried sprinting in them.

  As we approach the bar, I’m surprised to hear live music, and even more surprised that it’s not three decades old. I’ve passed this place several times while going to and from rehearsals. The outside isn’t exactly flashy, so I expected it to cater to an older clientele.

  One of the crew members has reached the door and he holds it open as Sylvia and I arri
ve at the entrance, gesturing for us to go in first. The bar is only half full and couples are dancing in an open space in front of the band. We spot several empty tables against the wall and head in that direction. The room is warm and I slip off my coat and sling it over the back of the chair. The rest of the group, about fifteen in all, settles in around a few of the tables.

  I haven’t been in a bar since I was dating Brandon. Strangely enough, Reed has never had a problem letting me go to bars with my fake ID. The ID is good enough to get me through TSA at the airport under my alias—the benefits of money—so there’s no concern of getting caught. Last fall, Reed was usually with me when I went out, even if he stuck to the background, making sure nothing happened. But mostly, he knows that I’m not a big drinker. I don’t like losing control, and that’s what drinking alcohol is all about.

  Being here tonight makes me anxious, although I’m not sure why. I’d love to run out the door, get in my car, and go home. And that’s exactly why I know I need to stay. I’m perfectly safe and surrounded by friends. This is the ideal time and place for me to start my post-Brandon social life. My therapist will be happy when I meet with her next week.

  There’s a group of about twenty men in the opposite corner of the room. They’re watching a basketball game, whooping and hollering. Other than them, the five couples on the dance floor, and a handle of people sitting at the bar, there’s no one else here. Still, my nerves are pinging, and I’m slightly jumpy. Rob puts his coat on the chair next to mine and smiles down at me. “Let me get you a drink to celebrate a successful opening night. What would you like?”

  I haven’t had a drink in months, so I scour my brain for my drink of choice from last fall. “A lemon drop martini.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Sylvia gives me a knowing look as Rob and a few of the other guys head to the bar to get drinks.

  “Stop,” I say as I slide into my seat.

  “What?” she asks, feigning innocence.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but we’re just friends.”