Page 68 of Hot to Trot

"I hope I get a boss like her," Marco said, trudging across the stage.

Scarlet closed her eyes and counted to ten.

"What,gringita?I hope I get a hard-ass like you. You want it done right. Perfect. I used to work at Subway for this dude who spent all day in the john, looking at porn. He blamed me and the other girl every time something went wrong. I hated working there."

"Just so you mean it in that way."

Marco shrugged. "Whatever. Let's do this scene."

"Places." She pointed out marks as Aunt Frances appeared stage right. "Okay, let's run it. Action!"

The guys started going through the motions of the scene without any real enthusiasm, so she stepped over to her aunt. "Thanks for asking the principal to allow us to use the auditorium. It really makes a difference."

Aunt Frances patted the curve of her hair and delivered a secretive smile. "I know how to get what I want from a man."

Scarlet arched an eyebrow. "I bet you do."

"He owed me a favor. Besides, he thinks it will be a good thing for the community. He was opposed to the book until he read it. Now he doesn't want others to do what he did - make a snap judgment."

"Funny how people make assumptions without really knowing what lies beneath. Facades. We're surrounded by them."

"We all wear them, don't we? Me. You. Especially you."

"Because I'm an actress?"

''Mmm." Aunt Frances watched the guys on the stage pull on the curtains. "You boys stop messing with those curtains. Do you have any idea how much those things cost?"

The former gang members straightened as if a drill sergeant had stepped on deck. It made Scarlet smile. Something she hadn't done since Adam had left her several nights ago. Thoughts of John, Adam, and her career swirled through her head. Her thoughts felt so heavy. The play. The probation. The fact Stefan hadn't answered her phone calls.

"Yo, can we go now?" Marco called. "We've done it eight times today. How many more run-throughs do we need? If Miguel don't get his shit together and learn his lines, we're gonna look like a bunch of-"

"Watch your language," Aunt Frances said.

"Yes, ma'am." Marco said.

Miguel Two’s response was to flip his fellow actor the bird. Marco reciprocated.

"Okay, enough," Scarlet called, moving onto the stage. "We need to adjust some lighting. Stand in your places for scene two."

The guys dragged their feet and stood at their marks so Scarlet could make notes on the clipboard she carried with her. This time the clipboard served a purpose. She scratched a few instructions for the high school kid who ran the light-and-soundbooth. "Okay. Practice tomorrow at nine o'clock. Now, get out of here."

Her actors dispersed, their goodbyes moderately more polite than in the past. Aunt Frances drew the curtains into place, turned off backstage lights, then disappeared into the dressing room. Darkness descended, broken by the exit signs. Scarlet sank onto one of the auditorium seats and allowed her sigh to fill the space.

Hmm. Good acoustics.

Scarlet pulled the cell phone Adam had insisted she carry from her pocket and stared at the message icon. She had one message.

John.

She pressed the button, opening the screen where his voice mail sat awaiting one little tap of her finger. Before she could think too much about it, she pressed Delete. She didn't want to talk to him anymore, not after what had occurred between her and Adam in the backyard. Something had changed her as she stood not quite in Adam's embrace. It was as if the very meaning of the bed-and-breakfast had taken hold of her.Finding things where least expected.

Adam had wiped her clean so that she was a blank slate, awaiting a new story. John was a book she’d already read. Closed. Tucked away. Done.

After all, he’d had plenty of time to say something to her. To answer her question of why he’d ended their relationship. But he hadn't bothered then. Instead, he'd refused her calls and turned away from her when she'd seen him at a premiere, giving no other explanation than "It's over."

Scarlet shook her head, as frustrated now as she'd been over a year ago. Which was stupid because a man who walked away for no reason didn’t deserve second or third thoughts.

She shoved the phone into her pocket as someone sat down beside her. "You've got your work cut out for you, chickadee."

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