Читать книгу Romance Backstage - Kim Shaw - Страница 9

God’s Favor

“Starbucks Iced Café Mochas are meant to be drunk and not worn,” Raven said emphatically when talking to her best friend, Carley, on the phone that evening while taking a bubble bath.

“Says you,” Carley replied devilishly.

It had been an excruciatingly disappointing day, and Raven was not in the mood for Carley’s antics. She shifted in the steaming water, causing the bubbles to lap at the sides of the tub, threatening to spill out onto to the salmon-pink-tiled floor.

“I don’t know why I even called you,” she hissed.

“Of course you called me. I’m your best friend and closest confidante. Who else would you have called?”

“And I curse the day that I borrowed those stinking tap shoes from you in Madame Aubourg’s class freshman year,” Raven snapped.

She’d hoped that Carley would make her feel better when she shared how she had failed to land the lead role in Marvin Barkley’s new show. Instead, Carley had fixated on the part about how she’d had to take the subway home smelling like a cup of coffee and laughed hysterically.

“Look, Raven, need I remind you that at least you are dancing?” Carley shot back.

Raven sighed, a wave of remorse washing over her. She wanted to scrub her mouth out with the entire tub of bubbles for being so insensitive. In her own misery she’d forgotten that Carley had suffered a dancer’s worst nightmare six weeks back—a torn ACL. She was on a long, tough road trying to come back, and it would be months before she’d be able to even think about dance auditions again.

“I’m sorry, Carley,” she said meaningfully.

“No, don’t be sorry. The last thing I need is one more person feeling sorry for me. I had a bad break, but the fight’s not over. What I want you to do is to just be grateful that you’ve got this shot. I know it’s not the role you wanted, but at least you get to be on stage. Come on, Raven, you have to go for it.”

“I know you’re right. In my head I know it, but…damn,” Raven said, unable to find the words that could encompass what she was feeling.

Raven lay in the bathtub for over an hour, until she began to shiver from the now tepid water. Before going to bed at seven, she left a note on the kitchen table for her parents, who were out for the evening. In the message, she succinctly informed them that she’d landed an ensemble role and would be out of the house for rehearsals by dawn every weekday, starting the next morning. While her talk with Carley had not lifted her spirits very much, it had forced her to adopt a more optimistic attitude about the show.

Raven let the cumbersome duffel bag slide from her shoulder, down her arm and onto the gray concrete of the sidewalk. She glanced up the street toward Seventh Avenue and then turned her face in the other direction toward Eighth. There were more than a few others out and about like her at the ungodly hour of six o’clock in the morning. Men in business suits, women in skirts and matching jackets with running shoes on their feet, all marched like eager little ants to midtown offices, laden with briefcases, bluetooth ear pieces and tall cups of steaming hot energy boosters. Manhattan was indeed the city that never slept, and taking a curt sip of her own cup of joe, Raven recognized that it was also a city that was high on manufactured stimulants.

The sun was beginning to rise between the tall, imposing buildings which enveloped the theater district. By the time the maintenance crew arrived to open the stage doors, Raven’s back felt as if it had been imprinted with the brick pattern of the wall she’d been leaning against for the better part of an hour.

“Do you guys generally get here around now?” she asked the first worker she saw.

“Me…yeah, but Burke’s usually here by six o’clock. I heard there was a big pileup on the New Jersey Turnpike this morning, though. Are you part of the new cast?”

“Yeah.” Raven smiled wanly.

“Well, you’re bright and early. Come on in,” he said, smiling back as he held the door open for her.

Raven entered the dark theater, taking slow steps as she maneuvered backstage among the equipment, cables and props. She exited onto the stage, which was dimly lit. Dropping her duffel bag to one side, she stood center stage, looking out into the darkness. In her mind, she visualized a packed house, with an audience full of eager theater-goers whose eyes were trained on her. If she hadn’t known it before, she knew now, deep within her soul that the stage was where she belonged. Standing there, she almost felt like crying out with excitement as she realized that her dreams were actually beginning to come true.

Raven pressed Play on the iPod that was in the armband strapped to her right biceps. She closed her eyes, raising both arms above her head. Her body swayed slowly from side to side, moving to the beat as Anita Baker’s jazzy voice flowed through the earbuds. Reaching for the heavens, she let the music invade her body and order her movements. She went through a series of lyrical steps, languid sensual progressions that carried her across the stage—a solitary butterfly floating on a rhythm all her own. By the time her body came to rest, she was filled with the sweetest emotion. The greatest joy she had ever known came when she was dancing, and it seemed as if that feeling only got better with time. A thin layer of perspiration covered her radiant face, and as she strode across the stage to retrieve a hand towel from her duffel bag, she saw him.

“Do you need me to clear off the stage?” Raven asked, removing the right ear piece.

He rose from his seat at a corner of the fifth row. Raven watched as he made his way toward her, moving into the dim stage lights.

“It’s you. Starbucks,” she gasped.

“Dru…Dru Davis,” he said, extending his hand.

A warm smile spread across his face. Raven shook his hand, unable to disengage her eyes from his.

“And you are Raven Walker, correct?”

“Yes, I am. How’d you know my name?” she asked skeptically.

“Well, I was planning to file a claim with my collision insurance yesterday, so I asked around about the freight train that hit me.”

Dru’s sexy smile betrayed him, causing Raven to laugh out loud for the first time in days.

“What are you doing here so early? I thought rehearsals didn’t start until nine o’clock,” he asked.

Raven shrugged her shoulders.

“By nine o’clock I’m usually catching my second wind. Got it from my dad who’s friends with the early bird and his worm,” she replied. “What about you? How early do the stagehands have to report?”

Dru didn’t respond right away. He studied her face silently.

“You’re an amazing dancer,” he said at last.

“Thank you,” Raven responded, noting the conspicuous change of subject.

“How long have you been dancing?”

“My mom says that I danced before I walked, but I think she’s exaggerating.”

Because most people did not know that Raven was adopted as a toddler, Lorraine’s exaggerated boasting about her daughter’s talent went unchecked. However, lately Raven found herself bristling under it. She shook that thought from her mind and returned her attention to Dru, whose piercing eyes were still studying her as he leaned against the side of the stage’s steps.

“What were you listening to?” he asked, pointing to the iPod on her arm.

“Anita Baker.”

“Anita Baker? What could you possibly know about Miss Baker, as young as you are?”

“I didn’t know you had to be a certain age to enjoy good music,” Raven countered indignantly. “Besides, you don’t know how old I am, and you’d better not even think about asking me.”

Dru laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “All right, no need to punch my lights out, Rocky.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Raven reminded.

She’d grown increasingly curious about this Dru Davis, especially since this game of twenty-one questions had become completely one-sided.

“I’m not part of the stage crew,” he said simply.

“Oh, I just assumed…”

Raven looked more closely at Dru’s face, trying to figure out if he was one of the dancers who’d auditioned yesterday. She dismissed that theory, realizing that a man as good-looking as he was would have been hard to overlook, no matter how preoccupied she was by the grueling audition.

“I’m sorry, but should I know you?” she asked finally.

It was Dru’s turn to shrug nonchalantly.

“I don’t see why you would. I’m just a regular guy who works behind the scenes.”

The theater flooded with lights just as Raven opened her mouth to reply.

“Hey, Dru, my man, you’re here already. I was just about to give you a call to see if you wanted to meet for coffee since we didn’t get to talk yesterday. How’s it going?”

“Marv, I’m good, man. It’s great to be back in the city, that’s for sure.”

Marvin Barkley approached the stage and the two men shook hands and embraced, smacking each other on their backs.

“I guess it would be a nice change of pace after spending an entire year abroad. You’ll have to tell me all about your trip. Your father’s doing a great thing over there.”

Barkley turned suddenly to face Raven. “Good morning, Miss Walker.”

Raven’s surprise that the man knew her name registered all over her face. She quickly recovered, flashed a smile and said, “Good morning, Mr. Barkley.”

“Marvin. Call me Marvin. We’re going to be working together every day from now until what will seem like forever.”

Raven nodded. “In that case, why don’t you call me Raven. It certainly beats ‘pink shirt,’” she said, smiling.

“Touché,” Barkley replied. “I see you’ve met the illustrious Dru Davis?”

“Sort of,” Raven said, her eyes linking with Dru’s once again. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you gentlemen to your business.”

Raven retrieved her duffel bag and headed backstage. She was well aware that Dru’s eyes followed her until she was out of sight, their warm rays caressing her retreating frame as she departed.