Page 60 of Kiss Me at Christmas
Eighteen
“I feel like a judgeonBritain’s Got Talent,” James leaned in to whisper in her ear during auditions on Saturday afternoon.
It was dark in the stalls where they were situated just beyond the orchestra pit. Harriet was sandwiched between James and Gideon. On Gideon’s other side was Mallory, dutifully taking down all of Gideon’s notes like a court transcriber.
“You would be Simon Cowell, I presume?” Harriet queried.
“Clearly, I would be Amanda Holden,” James shot back. “I am always quick to put people at ease.”
She snorted. “Where was your inner Amanda Holden when I was being held at the police station?”
“That was different. It was taking all my effort not to keep visualizing you naked.”
Harriet blushed into the darkness, feeling stupendously pleased.
“I expected more professionalism from you, Mr. Knight,” she teased.
“I dare anyone to act professionally when being faced with the person who blew their mind and shagged their brains out the night previous.”
“Oh!”
“Shhhhh!” hissed Grace, who was sitting two rows back.
“I blew your mind?” she asked. She pressed her thighs together and did a few sets of Kegels. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared in case it ever happened again.
“In every way, Ms. Smith.”
Holy shish kebabs!
On the stage, Ahmed graveled out Ebenezer’s words.“And the Union workhouses? Are they still in operation?”
“Louder, please, Ahmed!” called Grace, who had adopted the self-appointed role of theater critic.
Mateo, a man who favored aMiami Vicestyle, had sidled into the row in front of Harriet and turned in his seat to speak to her and James.
“Hiroshi, my husband, is up next. He was a professional dancer, years on the stage. Mostly ballet but he dabbled in interpretive dance, did quite a few pop videos in the eighties, big names too, he worked with Kate Bush.”
“Wow! Really? I probably watched his videos onTop of the Pops,” said Harriet.
“Most likely,” Mateo agreed. “He teaches now.”
“Dance?” James enquired.
“He teaches a Jazzercise class at the Great Foss sports center, but he gets on the stage whenever he can.”
“Next! Hiroshi, you’re up!” Gideon’s voice blared out beside her, making her jump.
“I’m so nervous for him.” Mateo held both his fists to his mouth. “He really wants this!” He swiveled in his seat and began clapping and whooping as his husband took to the stage. Harriet kept craning her neck, looking for Isabel; she’d told Harriet last night that she wanted to be in the play, and she didn’t want her to miss her chance.
“Who are you looking for?” James whispered.
She bit her lip. “Isabel. It’s gone six, she said she’d be here early.”
“Maybe she’s slipped in through the back?”
She nodded but couldn’t help feeling antsy. Isabel was so nervous she’d asked Harriet to run through her audition piece with her before she went on. She let out an anxious sigh and shifted in her seat.
Hiroshi had dressed in a long black cloak with a hood that covered his face for his audition for the role of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. Prescilla, seated at the side of the stage, fingers poised over an electric keyboard piano, began to play Mussorgsky’s “Night on Bald Mountain” and Hiroshi started to dance.
