My sheet music for this show.
Why the fuck does she have my sheet music in her fancy, manicured hands?
Once more, my breaths comes out in short, sharp bursts and my racing thoughts are only interrupted by Missy’s soft voice, adding, “I'll be honest, when I came aboard as a producer, I had every intention of making your life a living hell."
Her words are like a needle piercing through my skin. Such a tiny weapon, but it can cause so much pain. I blink, unable to lift my gaze from that sheet music.
Why is it only my sheet music? Why not the entire show? Nolan’s solos? The orchestra parts?
“And now?” I manage to croak a response.
The softness in her face marbleizes, turning hard once more with that Machiavellian smirk. "I still have every intention to make your life a living hell.”
"Then why let me take the time off to go see my dad?”
"Because I told you, I'm not a monster. I can make your life hell without using your family against you.”
The moment clicked in place. “And if you did tell me I couldn’t visit my father, publicly you would come out looking like the bad guy. You can’t have that as Broadway’s little miss perfect, isn’t that right?”
She smiles and hikes her Versace purse higher on her shoulder, her thumb brushing the hideous ring from Holden’s grandfather. With a scrunch of her nose, she says, “Maybe you’re not as green as I thought you were.”
“Is that story about your mom’s heart attack even true?”
Just then, Holden glances up from where he’s talking with our playwright, his eyes snagging mine from across the theater. Like a vacuum, all the air leaves my lungs. For the briefest moment, his expression is deeply lined; etched with the same scorch marks I feel in my heart. He’s so achingly beautiful and melancholy, I can’t look away.
“I guess you’ll never know,” Missy says. With a sway of her hips, she crosses to Holden and in a motion so subtle, so quick, his mask is back up. He’s no longer sad Holden, staring at me longingly. He’s indifferent. Cool. Simply a director observing his theater.
Well, two can play at that game.
His eyes flick back and forth from me to Missy as she saunters her way to him, then greets him with a long kiss. He’s stiff at first, but then quickly relaxes against her, his hand sliding into the back pocket of her jeans to pull her closer.
Am I wrong about them? Maybe this isn’t some weird ruse. Maybe Holden isn’t just pretending with her. He’s a good actor, but he isn’t that good.
I tear my eyes from them as the pain in my chest increases. Maybe it’s better this way. Holden and I were born actors—whether it’s on the stage or in our everyday lives. We each have our roles. The greatest role I’ve ever played isn’t Skyler in this show. It wasn’t Juliet.
It’s Kate.
Right here and right now.
And for the past five years.
This indifferent woman, so unaffected by Holden and Missy, this will be my greatest role. And if I do it right, no one will ever know.
As McCay would say: Find your center. Make an unexpected choice. And go.
CHAPTER SIX
Holden
Five years ago…
It wasn’t until I walked into class on Wednesday morning to find Katherine sitting there in the front row that I finally let loose the knot that’d been bunched in my shoulders.
Even though she said she would be here, I still breathed a thick sigh of relief that she came back to class… back to the show.
The way she was bent over her lap, I thought she’d been reading; or studying her script, but then out of nowhere, she tipped her head back and laughed as Nate popped up from where he’d been laying at her feet on the floor.
Irrational jealousy clutched at my heart, squeezing it until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.