“What everyone wants,” he answered. “Money. Power.”
Of course, the little weasel was trying to blackmail me.
I took a quiet step closer as tension wound through the darkness of the theater. A viper ready to strike
“And if I don’t give you what you want?” I asked, keeping my tone level while I took another step.
The question hung in the air as he thought through his options. His answer was inconsequential. I’d known what I had to do the moment I walked out of the rehearsal room.
“Then I guess the jig is up, and I’ll be going to inform the police after all.”
I crept closer to him, a floorboard creaking under my feet. The wood handle of the prop shovel rasped against my palm and the metal head grated against the stage floor, sending an eerie chill up my spine.
He dug in his pocket, searching for something, but I didn’t give him the time to find what he was after. I struck out like a cobra, hissing venom. There was a loud thunk, the sound of metal cracking into a skull. Something hot and wet spattered my cheek, but I ignored it.
He groaned, and his shadow fumbled with his phone as it lit briefly before falling from his grasp. I listened to it bounce and topple into the orchestra pit.
A smile tugged at my lips. I swung down with the shovel again, spattering more of the hot, sticky liquid over my nose and across my lips.
“You underestimated me. That was a mistake.”
I licked my lips, tasting the coppery tang of blood as I cracked the weapon against his skull again. And again. He backed up a step, wobbling as I swung at him one more time. And then he was plummeting, his head cracking against the cement at the bottom of the orchestra pit.
My rage was spent, my hands were shaking. And all that remained was darkness and the infinite silence of death.
I breathed heavily, thinking through a plan.My face and hands were coated in a sticky film. I’d need to wash that off before anything else. And I needed a clean shirt and a place to stash the murder weapon.
The building was dark, but there were people still milling around, waiting for the lights to turn back on. Explaining away this murder wouldn’t be as easy as the first.
I fled the little theater, taking care not to be seen on my way out of the emergency exit. The rain beat against my skin. A cleansing shower, washing away the blood of my sins.
The Curtain's Closing
Eve
Mostofthecastand crew had left one by one, either having their own car to drive or finding a ride with a friend. A few lucky ones had managed to hail a cab in the chaos of the storm and power outage. Scarlette had ventured out to catch a bus, and I’d waved goodbye from my perch on the bench.
The building had slowly emptied and now, only a few others milled about, waiting for the storm to pass or for the power to get turned back on so they could take the train.
Ben stumbled into the atrium of the studio, carrying his leather messenger bag, breathless and dripping. The rain hadn’t let up much, but at least it had stopped hailing. He spotted me and flashed me a grin.
My heart halted in my chest for a moment before it resumed its beating at a faster pace. He reduced me to a fluttery and ridiculous girl with hearts in her eyes every time I saw him. It left me feeling vulnerable and raw. Instead of letting it show, I added a little levity.
“You look like a drowned rat,” I teased.
He stalked toward me, narrowing his gaze. I took a step back, eyeing him warily. When he was right in front of me, he shook his head back and forth like a dog ridding itself of excess water.
Cold drops hit my skin, making me squeal. “Don’t do that! You’re getting me all wet!”
He took a quick step forward and wrapped his arms around me, letting his rain-drenched suit soak into my perfectly warm and dry clothes.
“But I love getting you wet,” he said, his playful smirk sending warmth into my core. He bent down and slanted his lips against mine in a heated kiss.
After a few seconds, I swatted him away playfully. “Come on, let’s go find some towels for you to dry off a bit.” I grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the locker room, peeking in to make sure no one was changing before pulling him in behind me. I found a couple of clean towels stocked; they were small, but he’d have to make do.
“I missed you,” he said as he took off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his damp dress shirt, exposing his forearms. It was basically like watching porn.Why were forearms so damn sexy?
My brain was slow at putting meaning to his words and when what he said finally sunk in, I froze. I studied him, trying to tell how serious he was being.
