Page 5 of Lethal Lover

“No. It’s yours to keep, but you can only wear it for me,” I joke, but I’m not joking. If another man even so much as looks at her in that dress, I’ll slit his throat. My best friends included. Besides, she looks so fantastic in that dress, I can’t imagineanyone else ever wanting to wear it. The internet would blow up with “who wore it best” photos, and she’d win, hands down.

“Deal.” She snickers and then reaches for the door. I don’t even get a chance to sneak in a peck on the cheek, which is all the more fuel to the fire. The raging inferno in my groin needs to be sated and will continue to burn hot and fierce until it gets what it wants.

Slick climbs back into the limo, and I lower the window between the two compartments. His eyes catch my reflection in the rearview mirror, and I scowl. I don’t want to have to do this sort of shit, but not getting what I want isn’t an option. So, I’ll take matters into my own hands.

“Her director is going to take a spill… A good one. Whatever you want…” I train my eyes on her backside as she walks away, and Slick pulls the limo onto the road. It hits a pothole and jostles me, but my gaze stays fixed on her.

“What do you have in mind?” He leans out to check his blind spot and accelerates into traffic, and I think carefully for a moment. It doesn't matter what happens to him as long as Elena’s rehearsal is canceled one night this week.

“Mugging, car accident, you choose. I just need her to be free for a night, and this is the only way. Make it happen,” I order as I roll the window back up and unzip my fly. If I can’t have her, I can self-pleasure while thinking of her. Soon enough, she’ll be mine, and I can’t wait until she is.

4

ELENA

Morning and afternoon rehearsals went so well, the director let us take a few hours for dinner. It’s happened a few times, and when it does, I’m always thankful. Today, I got some Chinese from a little dive down the street with Warren. He likes to follow me and make sure I’m safe, which is sweet, but sometimes, I think he thinks he is going to date me. I’m not sure he’s my type, but I’m not leading him on.

“After you,” Warren says, opening the door to the theater building. We still have twenty minutes before we’re due on stage for our evening rehearsals, and both of us are carrying our leftover Chinese and our drinks. I barely touched mine. I don’t want to be belching during practice.

“Why thank you…” I curtsey and snicker and step into the building. It’s quiet, except for the hum of the fans overhead warming the building. With rain moving in and a cold front hovering, it’s a bit chilly even for early fall.

“God, everyone must have left.” He flicks on the lights and walks toward the double doors that lead into the theater and pulls oneopen. It’s dark in there too. The theater is always spooky when it’s dark. I’ve thought that since I was a kid playing in my first musical,The Secret Garden

“Looks like it. We must be the first ones back.” I follow him into the dark auditorium, lit only by the runner lights on the floor in the aisles. This is what it’s like for people who come to watch our shows. It’s a little spooky, especially when Warren turns around and makes fake ghost noises and tries to scare me by touching my arms. I snicker and swat at him. ”Stop it!”

“You guys are ridiculous.” I hear the voice before the lights come on. It’s Trixie, who clearly was here before us. She twirls a strand of her hair around her finger and smirks at me with a nasty expression.

I swear I hear Warren grumble something under his breath, but I don’t know what he says. I’m pretty open-minded, but I know he really doesn’t like Trixie. He seems to get irritated every time she’s around—just one of the reasons I won’t date him. I don’t care much for his attitude. If he’ll talk bad about her and have an attitude merely at her presence, he’s not the type of guy for me.

“Even the director went out?” I ask, and Trixie—standing on the stage wearing one of my costumes—rolls her eyes.

“What? Peter isn’t allowed to eat too?” She scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest. It’s obvious she has a problem with me, even though I haven’t done anything to her. But that’s showbusiness. She should have had the role in that last musical, but she had laryngitis on audition night and I didn’t. She'd mostly worked unopposed until now, so she’s learning how to share the spotlight.

I smile softly at her, but it only sours her expression more. She’s not happy with my appearance, and I can’t do anything about that. All I can do is be polite and use the manners my mother gave me. Warren, on the other hand, seems to not care one bit whether Trixie is happy. He walks down the aisle toward the front at a faster clip than me and leaps onto the stage. His fingers trace the hem of the collar on the dress Trixie wears.

“You’re wearing Elena’s costume. Take it off,” he says, scowling at her. Always my defender, he has it in his head that he’s theater security or something. While not at all true, other people actually do listen to him. There is security here, but they’re lax and mostly just stick to working on show nights.

“I’m the understudy.” She scoffs, pushing his hand away. “Mind your business anyway, War.” The way she accentuates his nickname looks like it irritates him. His scowl turns to a glare, and he touches the collar of the dress again, only to have his hand smacked away.

“Hey, guys. It’s okay. Honestly, Trixie is supposed to practice, Warren. She can wear it.” I use the steps on stage right to join them on the set, and Warren turns his scowl on me momentarily. He looks like he wants to correct me, but suddenly, his expression shifts to a fake smile and he bows from the shoulder.

“As you wish,” he says in a very theatrical tone.

The tension is thick, but luckily, it’s broken as slowly, the cast trickles back in. A group of extras stands to the right rehearsing a song they have to do for the chorus. The male lead—another point of contention with Warren, who didn’t get the role—pulls Trixie away to practice the kissing scene, apparently. And the stagehands start moving the set around to prepare for the opening scene.

I sit on the edge of the stage swinging my legs, waiting on the director to return as Warren continues bossing people around. It’s odd to me that Trixie calls the director Peter, since where I grew up, we used a person’s title or surname to address them. But she’s been on Broadway a few years now and probably has built a good relationship. I smile to myself thinking one day, maybe I’ll have that pleasure too.

After waiting more than a half hour and knowing things should have gotten started by now, I wave Warren over. He jogs across the stage and drops down next to me like a well-trained dog.

“What does the beautiful Elena need right now?” I’m not impressed by his eagerness, but I’m happy at least one person on this cast doesn’t hate me. He and Nina are the only friends I’ve made since moving here.

“What’s taking the director so long? Isn’t he usually really prompt?” I’ve only been part of a few shows, but he’s never been late before.

“Hmm, yeah. You’re right. Pete’s never late. He must be caught in traffic or something.” Warren doesn’t look too worried, but I’m thinking if the director doesn’t start rehearsal until late, then things go later into the evening. I won’t get enough sleep, and then I’ll have bags under my eyes for tomorrow. It’ll turn into a vicious cycle.

“Well—”

The doors in the back of the auditorium burst open and one of the stagehands runs down the center aisle. “Rehearsal is canceled!” he shouts, exuberantly raising a fist in the air. “The director isn’t coming back tonight. We can take a break.”

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