I’m not a plant gay, and I will no doubt kill these flowers the same way I did all the other ones Bowie’s gotten me, but I smile as I take them. Bowie got me a bouquet for the first show I stagemanaged, after they saw all the actors get them and me with nothing, and the tradition kind of stuck.
“These are beautiful. Thanks.”
“Sure thing, Jacks. You did great.”
I shrug, my ears warming. “You couldn’t even tell.”
“Yeah. That’s how I know you were awesome.”
They give me a side hug, and we hang against the wall, watching everyone else milling around. It’s so loud, Bowie switches to sign to ask, “Where’s your dad and Amy?”
“Coming to the matinee.”
“Oh. I saw Jasmine earlier.”
“Probably waiting for Liam.”
Bowie must see something in my face, because they give me the most sympathetic look. I can’t stand it.
But then: “What’d you do to your nose?”
“Ugh.”
They hold their compact mirror for me while I clean the last bits of blood off. My nose doesn’t look crooked or anything, just a little too big for my face, like always.
“Thanks.”
“Sure.”
There’s a commotion in the lobby as more actors emerge to greet their families and friends. I spot Cam and Philip, talking to Cam’s parents. I only met them a couple times, and they seemed nice. Maybe even a little bland. Not like the kind of people who’d raisean egotistical monsteran actor, but I guess you never know.
Liam finally emerges, Jasmine already hanging off his arm, smiling and laughing. He’s got a dozen red roses in his free hand, and it’s hard to tell which is redder, the flowers or hischeeks. But the color drains from his face when Dr. L swoops in.
At first I’m not sure if she’s going to congratulate him or castigate him.
“What’s she saying?” I ask Bowie. “Can you tell?”
“ ‘You were spectacular. Your best performance yet. Could you feel it?’ ”
I’m so proud of him.
“Now she’s talking about how the whole house was moved to tears.” Bowie laughs. “She’s laying it on a little thick. Was it supposed to have that long dramatic pause, though?”
“No, he was...” I shake my head. I know he and Bowie are friends, but he was so upset, so vulnerable, and I can’t just tell his business. I don’t even know what happened. “I dunno. But I better go finish up. Perkins after?”
“You know it.”
I bump into Cam as I head backstage.
“Oh. Sorry, Jackson.”
I’m so stunned I nearly drop my roses. In all the time I’ve known Cameron I’m not sure he’s ever apologized to me—not even after a fight while we were dating.
But he’s not looking at me. He’s focused on Dr. Lochley and Liam. He’s changed out of Judas’s red leather jacket, and his shirt is unbuttoned, and he’s sweaty and kind of smelly.
“Good show,” I tell him.
“Thanks.” He actually looks at me, and he’s doing the puppy-dog eye thing, all vulnerable, and for a second I feel kind of bad for him. He’s the one who had to cover for Liam. “You too.”
