Chapter 4
As Emilio approached the playhouse, he stopped to watch as four men walked out of the lobby carrying a large roll of carpet on their shoulders. A construction dumpster had been set up on the wide sidewalk, and the men heaved their burden into it. The carpet landed inside with a resounding thud, and a huge cloud of dust billowed up. The playhouse doors had all been propped open, and the buzz of many voices, along with the ring of hammers and the shrill squeal of a power saw sounded from inside.
It had been only three days since the reception, but Rayne hadn’t wasted any time getting started with the demolition phase of the renovations. Emilio had seen from the plans that the first phase would focus on the lobby, so he’d thought using the stage wouldn’t be an issue. Given the noise level, however, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear his music over the din.
But since he’d scheduled the time, he was determined to use it. He’d brought his compact stereo, and he would turn the volume up as much as necessary. He doubted anyone would complain.
At least he’d gotten one thing out of the way: making an effort to talk to Rayne. It had been just as stilted as he’d expected, but he’d kept his word to his mother and could tell her he’d tried. He still didn’t see much of a point to it because Rayne was here to do a job, and the sooner the renovations were over and Rayne left, the better. The only good thing was that Rayne wasn’t going to ruin the playhouse.
He’d had time to think since learning Rayne wasn’t going to gut the playhouse and turn it into something cold and modern. Seeing Rayne again had made Emilio realize his nostalgia about the playhouse was foolish. He’d been trying to hold onto the memories of him and Rayne in the building, the pleasure and the excitement of being in love. The playhouse was his last tie to those memories, but now he realized it didn’t matter what Rayne did. The memories were as dead as their relationship, and Emilio had been a fool to cling to something that had long ago turned to dust. He should be grateful to Rayne for finally freeing him from the shackles of useless sentiment. It was over, and Rayne would never know that he’d broken Emilio’s heart.
Emilio crossed the street and stepped into the lobby, looking around at the controlled chaos within. The carpet had all been removed, exposing the original hardwood flooring beneath, which was dirty and scuffed. There were half a dozen people stripping wallpaper, while others removed light fixtures. Others were removing layers of paint and varnish from the crown molding and ceiling, and the air was filled with dust and the astringent odors of chemicals.
He didn’t linger in the lobby. Rayne was nothing to him now, and Emilio didn’t feel it necessary to say another word to him. The auditorium was deserted, though the rows of seats had already been removed and the velvet stage curtains were gone. The doors to the lobby provided a barrier to the worst of the noise, so Emilio positioned the stereo at the edge of the stage and then stripped off his jacket and warm-up pants. He changed his loafers for his dance shoes and then hopped up on the stage to loosen his muscles with a set of warm-up exercises.
Once he’d stretched out, Emilio walked through the steps of the dance without the music, double-checking his choreography to make sure it presented the correct sight lines for the audience. He verified the position of the stage lights and then ducked into the wings to turn down the house lights and set the base levels for the stage. Once the renovations were finished, he’d work with the playhouse’s stage manager and the head of the tech crew—usually one of the AV club students from the high school—to work out the spotlights. Satisfied with the results of his efforts, Emilio crossed to his stereo, started the CD, and took his position stage center.
He’d searched carefully for music this year and found an arrangement of “Requiem for a Dream” performed on Spanish guitar. It was perfect for flamenco, and he thought it might be the best dance he’d ever choreographed. The music started, and Emilio began to dance, the pounding of his heels on the stage providing the percussion to accompany the guitars. He didn’t push too hard on this first run through, wanting to make sure every step was what and where he wished it to be.
After three times through the music, with stops and starts for adjustments, Emilio was sweating freely, so he stripped off his soaked tank top and tossed it backstage. Now that he was satisfied with the steps, he would dance it as it was meant to be danced, and he turned up the volume to the level it would be during a performance.
The music began, and he lost himself in the movement, in pushing his body to its limits and putting every bit of his ability to the test. He didn’t perform for an audience, but for himself, for the joy and the freedom it gave him, taking him away from mundane concerns and transporting him into a place that seemed outside of reality. This was the reason he danced, not to impress a crowd, not for money or for fame. It was the reason he loved to teach dance, to gift his students with this magical experience, but his mother was the only person who’d ever understood.
At the final beat of the music, Emilio slid to his knees, arched backward, one hand held high. He was breathing hard, his pulse pounding in his ears, feeling a satiation that was in many ways just as good as sex. Applause erupted from the back of the auditorium, and Emilio froze. He wasn’t aware of anyone watching him, and he was surprised anyone knew what he was doing, given the noise in the lobby.
As all good performers were taught to do, he rose to his feet and faced the front of the stage. Then, with a flourish of his hands, he gave an elaborate bow. With the house lights down, he couldn’t tell how many people were watching, but he didn’t mind. He wondered if Rayne was among them and then pushed the thought aside. Rayne no longer mattered.
Ducking into the wings, Emilio turned off the stage lights and brought up the house lights and then descended the stairs just offstage. He crossed to the pile of his belongings, taking out a bottle of water and a towel as several people approached to tell him how amazing his performance had been.
Emilio thanked them, but he couldn’t help glancing toward the back of the auditorium—and when he noticed Rayne standing there, his heart lurched in his chest. Rayne probably didn’t remember the other times he’d watched Emilio dance or the way Rayne had sometimes grabbed him as he’d stepped into the wings, pulling him into the darkness behind the curtains and kissing him until they were both breathless and desperate.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I hope you’ll all come to the performances,” he told the half-dozen people, mostly women, who’d lingered. “Please, excuse me.”
Emilio gathered up his things and headed toward the rear of the auditorium, but he stopped when he reached Rayne. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your workers,” he said quietly. “I hope you know that.”
“They heard the music and were curious,” Rayne said. “Taking a few minutes to watch you dance won’t destroy our timetable.”
Emilio inclined his head. “Good. I didn’t want you to think I’m trying to sabotage your work after I said I wouldn’t.”
Rayne offered a reassuring smile. “My only thought was that you needed rehearsal time.”
“That’s good.” Emilio knew it was stupid, but the question he’d always asked Rayne after performing a new piece was suddenly there on his lips. “What did you think?”
Rayne’s blue eyes widened as he shot Emilio a startled look. “I thought it was good,” he said at last. “Very…” His gaze flicked to Emilio’s bare chest and lingered there. “High-energy.”
The betraying glance made Emilio feel warm in a way that had nothing to do with his recent exertions. Of course, a lack of physical chemistry had never been their problem, and Rayne was even more attractive now than he’d been as a teenager. His shoulders were broader, and his chestnut-brown hair was longer, revealing thick, tempting waves. Emilio couldn’t help remembering how easily they’d once set each other off.
“Good. I wouldn’t want to think I was slowing down as I’ve gotten older.”
“It doesn’t seem so,” Rayne said, dragging his gaze back up to Emilio’s face.
“Thanks.” Emilio nodded slightly. “I’ll get out of your way now. Good luck with the renovations.”
“Feel free to use the space as much as you need.” Rayne moved aside to give Emilio room to pass. “It’ll be at least a week until we need to close off the auditorium, maybe more. Just let your dancers know to use the stage door instead of the main entrance for now.”
“All right.” Emilio paused. “You might have an influx of volunteers in the next few days. I’ve asked my adult students to help out, if possible. One of my ballroom dancers builds custom homes in Maggie Valley, and he said he could lend a hand.”
Rayne’s look of surprise was more pronounced this time, and a smile curved his lips, softening his sharp, somber features. “That’s great,” he said. “We can use the extra help, given the tight schedule we’re on. Thanks.”
