Page 65 of Serving the Couturier

I glared at him, my eyes darting to the group of my cast mates who had gathered to watch the argument with eager eyes. I could see the glee in their expressions.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. I didn’t want to cause a scene, but I couldn’t let Timothy’s accusations go unanswered.

“Let’s be clear, Timothy,” I said firmly. “I did not sleep with Spencer to advance my career or because I wanted to. We fell in love, and I refuse to apologize for that.”

He sneered. “Love? Don’t make me laugh. You’re just using him to get ahead, and you’re using this love excuse as a cover.”

I felt a surge of anger. How dare he make such assumptions about me and my relationship? I took a step forward, getting into his face.

“You have no right to judge me or my relationship with Spencer. You don’t know us or what we have. And for the record, I have been working my butt off for years to get where I am. I don’t need anyone to carry me.”

Timothy just rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, London. But when everything comes crashing down, don’t come crying to me.”

With that, he walked away, leaving me fuming. I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself, but it was clear that the fight was far from over.

I finally spotted the stage manager, and as I approached him about the nail on the floor, I could see the exhaustion etched on his face. “What now?” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I swear, every time I turn around, there’s another problem that needs fixing. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“I’m sorry to add to your workload,” I said. “I just wanted to let you know that there’s a nail sticking out on the stage floor.”

He sighed heavily and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll take care of it. But it’s just one more thing on top of all the equipment that’s in dire need of repair. We’re stretched thin as it is.”

I could only nod and offer my understanding, and as I turned to head back to the stage, I overheard one stagehand talking about the ceiling wires that controlled the stage props. They were not running smoothly. My stomach dropped at the thought of something going wrong during a performance and ruin the show, but I pushed the worry away as Darrel, the director, summoned all of us actors to the stage for a briefing.

I took my place in the center, surrounded by my cast mates. Darrel stood at the front, with his back to the empty theater seats. He cleared his throat and spoke.

“Good morning, everyone. I wanted to call this briefing to go over a few things before we begin rehearsals today. Foremost, I want to address the recent rumors about London and Spencer. I know there have been a few stories in the press, but I want to remind everyone that this is a professional setting. I expect everyone to act professionally and not let any personal feelings interfere with our work.”

I could feel the weight of the stares from my cast mates, but I lifted my chin and tried to project confidence. Darrel’s words were reassuring, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that some of my colleagues were still skeptical.

“Let me also say this,” Darrel added. “What London and Spencer do in their private lives is none of our business. They have both assured me that this will not affect the show, and I expect everyone to respect that.”

I let out a small sigh of relief, grateful for Darrel’s understanding.

As I glanced around me, my eyes caught the stagehand, who was now bent over fixing the nail. A glimmer of hope flickered in my mind as I watched him work. Things were being taken care of, and maybe, just maybe, all my problems would be fixed soon too.

With a renewed sense of determination, I made my way to take my spot, ready to focus on my work and not let anything distract me from what was most important. I had a show to put on and a performance to give, and I was going to give it my all.

The rehearsal was going well, and I felt myself getting lost in the world of the play. The lines came naturally, and the movements felt fluid. It was as if all the chaos and drama of the past few days had melted away, leaving only the stage and the performance.

But then, just as the scene was about to end, there was a loud snap, followed by a crash. My heart stopped as I looked up to see one of the backdrops falling from above, the wires that held it up, having given way. The heavy object was hurtling straight towards Timothy standing next to me.

Without thinking, I lunged forward and pushed Timothy out of the way, sending him sprawling to the ground. But as I turned to escape the falling backdrop, I felt a searing pain in my foot. I tried to move, but my foot was pinned to the ground.

The next thing I knew, I was lying on the stage, the pain in my foot pulsing through my body. I could hear voices calling out, but they sounded distant, as if coming from far away. I tried to open my eyes, but they felt heavy, and I couldn’t seem to focus.

The last thing I remembered was the sound of someone calling my name, their voice filled with concern and fear. And then everything went dark.

THIRTY-FIVE

SPENCER

I wasin the middle of a meeting with a potential sponsor when my phone rang. It was Stan. I excused myself and answered the call.

“Spencer, I just heard from Darrel. London had an accident on stage. She’s being rushed to the hospital,” Stan said, his voice filled with concern.

“What happened? Is she okay?” I asked, my heart racing.

“I’m not sure. The stagehand said it was a backdrop that fell, but he didn’t have many details. Mercedes is taking her to the hospital, and I’m heading there now.”

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