Page 92 of Something Cheeky

“What do you mean?” Derek’s forehead furrowed in confusion.

“You forgot again.” Th?o’s exasperation was all over her face. “We have to finish the fucking song. Something’s not right and I need your ears.”

“Th?o, I’m wiped. I’d be no good to you.”

“If you were my boyfriend, I would’ve dumped you already with all your excuses.”

“Ha ha. Can it wait until I talk to Zoe?” He pleaded.

“I’m so tired of you putting Zoe ahead of our work. I know that the two of you came up with the concept, but I’m the one writing the music and all the Vietnamese lyrics.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I had more time, but she needed my help.” The excuse sounded pathetic in his ears.

“I’m starting to think this entire production was just an excuse for you to confess your love to her,” she accused.

“That’s not fair. You know there are bigger reasons! We need more thanMiss Saigonon Broadway.”

“Yeah, yeah, blah, blah. You keep saying that but your actions tell me the opposite.” She frowned and crossed her arms.

“We can work on the lyrics tomorrow. I promise.”

“Sure. Whatever.” She waved dismissively. “I’ll finish the song myself and you can’t argue with it because you are too busy for it.”

“Th?o, I’m sorry. It’s going to take everything I have left to break the news to the creative team. They’re professionals and will roll with it. But Zoe—this is her first pro gig. She needs extra help.”

“Thanks for letting me know where I am on your list of priorities.” Th?o tossed her bag over her shoulder and stormed out.

Derek rubbed his temples. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep all his plates spinning. He only had to make it to opening night.

As soon as the costume shop shut down for the day, Zoe ran upstairs to find Derek. He hadn’t responded to the cryptic and slightly panicked text she’d sent him after her incident with Greg.

She stopped in the doorway of the rehearsal room. All the lights were off except for a small lamp on the stage manager’s station. Derek was lying on the floor under the six-foot folding table that Heather sat at during rehearsals.

“Derek?”

He didn’t respond. She’d never seen him like this except when he slept.

Keeping her footsteps soft so she wouldn’t wake him in case he was taking a nap, she crept into the room for a closer look.

Derek was flat on his back, wide-eyed and staring at the underside of the table.

“Hey, you. You ready to go home?” Zoe tried unsuccessfully to keep the worry out of her voice. She tried to crouch down but the day had caught up with her. She sat her ass on the cold floor.

“Zoe.” Derek blinked quickly, as if waiting for her to come into focus. “What time is it?”

“Eightp.m.,” she said without checking her phone. The exact time didn’t matter right now. “What are you doing under there?”

“Thinking. When I was a kid, I was home by myself after school. I didn’t like the emptiness of the house without my mom, so I’d sit under the dinner table.”

“That’s really cute and kind of sad. What’s on your mind?”

The silence stretched as she waited for his response. He’d tell her when he was ready. After a few minutes, he crossed his arms over his chest and rolled out from beneath the table. He pulled himself up to sit next to her, their shoulders touching.

“I knew putting on this show would be challenging, but the obstacles are not the ones I planned on.” He sighed.

“Let me guess. Gregzilla,” she said dryly.

Derek covered his face with his hands and groaned.

---