Page 34 of Ghosted Cowboy
"I record everything," Darcy said miserably. "For my portfolio. You knew that. I didn’t even mean to catch this conversation, but now I’m glad I did.” She looked at me, mascara streaking down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Rainey. I never wanted to hurt you. I just—I wanted out of this town so badly, and she made it sound so easy—"
"Save it for the statement," Turley said, pulling out two sets of handcuffs. "Darcy Coleman and Brooke Whitfield, you’re both under arrest. I’ll have one of my officers go over your Miranda rights—"
"Wait!" Brooke cried. "You don't understand! I needed this role!"
Vivian appeared behind her, horror dawning on her face. "Brooke?"
"I wasn't getting work in LA!" The words poured out in a frenzied rush. "My agent told me to take waitressing jobs—waitressing! Like I'm some nobody! But I have talent! Real talent! I was on Baywatch!"
Her hands clenched into fists. "And it should have led to more, but the casting directors, they just—they couldn't see what I could bring to their productions. I needed this lead role to show I'm still relevant, still working. My reel is three years old. Three years!"
She turned to Vivian, desperation replacing anger. "Collections agencies are calling me constantly. Process servers showing up at my door, threatening to take everything. I'm about to be evicted from that pathetic duplex. I could lose everything—"
"You already have," Vivian said, her voice carrying the same authority she used to direct. "You've lost your integrity. Your reputation. And any chance of working in theater again, anywhere."
Turley finished with Darcy's cuffs and turned to Brooke.
"This is all your fault!" Brooke lunged toward me, but Ransom caught her easily, holding her until Turley could secure the cuffs. "You couldn't just step aside! You had to have everything—the role, the attention, him—"
"That's enough," Turley said, leading both women toward the door. "We'll finish this at the station."
As they left, I heard Brooke still ranting, her voice echoing down the hallway. "I'm better than this town! Better than all of you! You'll see—"
The door closed, cutting her off.
The dressing room fell silent except for the faint buzz of the overhead lights. I sank onto the bench, my legs suddenly unable to hold me. The paperweight was still clutched in my hand, my knuckles white around it.
"Hey." Ransom knelt in front of me, gently prying the glass weight from my grip. "You're safe now. She didn't get the chance."
"She was really going to do it," I whispered. "Break my leg. End my career here, maybe permanently."
"But she didn't." His fingers intertwined with mine. "You were brave as hell, baby. That took guts."
"I was terrified."
"I know. So was I." He pulled me against him, and I breathed in the familiar scent of him, willing my heart rate to slow down. "When those lights went out—when I heard that crash—"
"But you were there," I said against his chest. "Just like you promised."
Vivian cleared her throat from the doorway. "I hate to interrupt, but we have an audience full of people who came for a show."
I pulled back from Ransom, wiping at my eyes. "The show. Oh God, I can't—my makeup's ruined, and—"
"You can and you will." Her tone was firm but kind. "Because that's what we do. We take the disasters and the drama and the absolute chaos, and we transform it into art. Besides," her mouth quirked in a small smile, "they've been sitting out there for twenty minutes listening to me improvise theater history. They deserve to see Evangeline's monologue."
I looked at myself in the mirror—smeared makeup, hair coming loose from its pins, hands still trembling slightly. Then I thought about everyone out there. The rest of the cast members. The tourists who'd come early for the festival. The town that needed this production to succeed.
"Give me ten minutes," I said.
"That's my girl." Vivian squeezed my shoulder. "I'll go back out and tell them we had a minor technical difficulty but the show will go on. Because it always does."
She left, and I turned back to the mirror. Ransom stood behind me, meeting my eyes in the reflection.
"Are you sure you’re up for this?" he asked quietly. “I’ll support you either way.”
"Yes, I’m sure." I picked up a makeup wipe, starting to repair the damage. "Brooke's jealousy and Darcy’s recklessness won’t be the end of this story."
He kissed the top of my head. "Then I'll be in the wings, watching."
