Page 17 of The Midnight Confessions: Part Four

Nodding, I let him tug me up to the front.

“Director!” Frank calls out. “I want to show these people what we’re looking for. Cassie isn’t available this semester to participate, but she was our Violet last year.”

“What?! Oh my goodness, that production will live on forever in everyone’s hearts. You, my dear, were fantastic! Are you sure you can’t find some time for us?” the director asks, clasping his hands together.

“I’m so sorry,” I murmur with a small smile. “I have some things going on that won’t allow me to.”

“Fine, fine. Please go up and show us what Loretta should sound like. Here are the sheets, take your time,” the director says kindly.

God, hello pressure. Looking at the papers helps to shift my focus from the fact that I have to walk backstage for a small amount of time. I know better than to look out at the people watching, so I take my time going through both the music and my lines.

“Is it alright if I read from the pages?” I ask, glancing up at the director. Usually they want you to memorize it, but there’s not enough time for me to.

“You’re not superhuman,” he scoffs, waving his hand. “Just do what feels natural.”

Taking a breath, I start the scene, and the director jumps in when needed, so I have someone to work off of. Then I sing the song attached at the end, and there’s silence when I end.

Biting my lip, I look up, feeling a sense of déjà vu. This is what it was like when I first auditioned for Violet. It feels a little like traveling full circle. Frank stands there with a little smile on his face, his chin on his hand, and his other hand propping him up. The director’s jaw is dropped and everyone else is in shock.

As if the bubble pops, they all break into applause. A smile grows on my face as the director climbs on stage to take my hands. “This… is what I need in a Loretta! I will take nothing else, and while you can’t be mine, I’ll have to continue to look. It will never be perfect though!” he laments.

Struggling not to giggle at his dramatics, I press my lips together.

“If you’re not here to audition, then why are you here, dear?” the director asks as he escorts me off the stage.

“I came to have lunch with Frank, but it appears he’s a little tied up,” I explain.

“Bah! He works too hard. I have two other assistants. Off with you,” he says, squeezing my hand before turning back to those waiting to audition. I have a feeling he’ll be harsher on the remaining people here. Oops.

Walking over to Frank, he smirks at me. “Director’s pet!” he teases, ruffling my hair.

“Stop,” I giggle. “It just happens.”

Things are easier with Frank than they’ve been, and I know he’s repentant of his role in making me feel as if I was going crazy last year. I just want to finish out this year strong.

“Are you doing some kind of crazy workout thing?” Frank asks, his eyes shrewd as they wrack over me.

“Ummm. Definitely not. I don’t think I need to lose weight,” I snort, brow raised.

“Nah, you’re fucking perfect,” he reminds me, rolling his eyes as we walk out of the building. “You just look tinier than I remember.”

Chewing on my lip, I shrug. “I haven’t been great about eating. My stress is super high, and I’ve been going to therapy appointments, but…”

Huffing in frustration, Frank points toward his car. Oh, I guess we’re going off campus for lunch.

“Is this about Lyra?” he asks, but I shake my head.

“No, she’s been great. But, with the stalker stuff, I’m worried about getting any closer. There’s been more photos, warnings, and I doubt campus police will care about this. I should really live in a bubble, cancel our lunch…”

“You need me, kid. I’m not going anywhere, so deal with it. I’m sorry I got spooked before, but I’m not going anywhere. Now pick a food and that’s where we’re going for lunch,” Frank insists as he unlocks the car.

“I really want a pastrami sandwich,” I murmur, and my stomach decides to growl. “Ugh, I just wish I could eat like a normal person!”

“Tell me all about it,” he demands as we get into the car.

“I feel like a drama queen,” I groan, but he shrugs.

“Drama is what I do for a living.” Frank laughs. “Tell me yours. Who the fuck cares if you’re a drama queen? I’ll get you a pretty crown, with your name on it and everything.”

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