“Don’t tell me you have a crush on this Maxine person,” Jake teased.
“Hell no! What the hell is wrong with you, boy? That Maxine makes my balls wanna shrink way up inside.”
Jake grimaced. “Thanks for that image, Pops.”
His dad shrugged, but Jake caught a glimpse of his lips as they twitched beneath his thick mustache. “So what’re you doing hanging around here, Elwood? Get on home and make your pop some more of that rosemary and olive focaccia. I don’t want to eat any more bread with damnedseedsin it. They get all up inside my stupid dentures.”
* * *
The next morning,Vivien arrived at the soon-to-be-christened Olivia Dee Theater a little after ten o’clock.
She and Helga hadn’t ended up coming here last night once they finished dinner at Trib’s—after several glasses of wine, neither of them had any business driving. So they’d strolled around town before walking back to Helga’s apartment and hanging out there for the rest of the night, and she’d told Helga not to bother to come by in the morning, since all of the other people would be there.
Vivien was glad to have an excuse not to go back to the theater last night—although she wouldn’t have admitted it. And if pressed, shewouldhave gone back. Especially with Helga (who was, as one might expect, a bit of a badass). But she’d been just fine delaying her return.
Now, Vivien couldn’t help but glance around as she fitted the key into the front door’s lock. The last thing she wanted was Jake DeRiccio showing up again, all sweaty and in those tight running shorts.
But the parking lot was empty, and so was the little street in front of it. She wondered where he’d come from that he’d been jogging down this road outside of town. There were a few houses nearby, but they didn’t seem the type for a doctor and his possible family.
She wondered if he’d ended up with Lissa Kirkland.
The very thought of the bitch whose bed Jake had dived into about ten seconds after Vivien and he semi-broke up made her stomach churn and the fury come roaring back all over again.
Put it away.
It’s over. It’s done. It was a long time ago.
Distracted by the memories and emotions attached to Jake and that upsetting time of her life made it easier for Vivien to walk through the entrance into the lobby.
To her relief, nothing seemed out of place. There were no strange lights or sounds, and the air was still and quiet.
“I’m back,” she called to the ghosts lingering from shows past. “And I’m not leaving,” she added for whoever thought they could chase her away from her dream.
As if in answer, a soft shift in the air—very, very cold—buffeted her skin, and she thought she heard the faintest whisper of a sigh—relieved, relaxed—from deep inside the building.
“That’s right,” she said, the sound of her voice giving her comfort as she walked in and looked around. “I’m here, and here I’ll stay.”
She had a real flashlight this time, but didn’t turn it on yet and instead relied on the same dismal collection of light bulbs as before. The teen volunteers would be here in less than an hour, and she wanted to have a defined list of tasks for them before the hordes (she hoped there was a horde) descended.
But before that, she needed a moment of her own to do what she’d meant to do when she came in on Tuesday.
Once more, she walked down the center aisle from the lobby through the house to the stage. And once again, she felt the presence of those who’d come before—who’d entertained and danced and sang and soliloquized—and whose spirits remained.
They were ghosts of solidarity, phantoms of familiarity, spirits of tradition and memory…nonthreatening and benign, yet insistent that they be acknowledged.
And acknowledge them she would.
This time, nothing interrupted her as she approached the front. The orchestra pit located down and in front of the stage was small but functional and required her to veer to the left in order to ascend the five steps that brought her onto the stage.
For some reason, her palms felt damp and her heart was beating hard as she walked onstage and stood, facing the house…just as she and her twin had done twenty-some years ago.
She looked out over the empty seats, the rows where faces would be, the place that she would fill with people—shewould—and remembered: the heat of the lights, the energy pushing at her, the music surrounding her, the excitement, the exhaustion, the triumph.
Memories flitted through her mind: pieces of dialogue, measures of song, steps of a routine…and then, when they began to overwhelm her, when her eyes filled with tears and her heart squeezed and hurt, she sank to sit cross-legged on the dusty wooden floor.
Liv.
“I wish you were here with me, Liv,” she said—but in a low voice. Just for her twin to hear. The other spirits didn’t need to eavesdrop. “I mean, I know you’re with me, but I wish you were corporeal, you know?” A skitter of sensation brushed over Vivien’s left arm—Olivia always stood on her left side—lifting the hair gently.
