It would seem to some on the outside looking in that my life is pretty perfect. I have a good job that I actually enjoy, I have friends and a mother who love and support me. I would agree with them, however, there’s some things about my life that aren’t so peachy. My family wasn’t always supportive of my theatre endeavors. Mom was worried I would never be able to find work, not that I really needed to work because Mom and Dad have old money. Mother never worked a day in her life; she didn’t have to, and my father made sure of that.
Dad owned a multi-conglomerate of several different types of businesses, most of which were not exactly legal. I’m pretty positive he was part of the mafia. I’m not happy he’s in prison for life, of course. He is my father, however that doesn’t excuse what he’s done. Especially since my mom had absolutely no idea that he was dealing with so many illegal activities. So, when we found out, thanks to Holland, it came as a shock.
“Who’s ready for some drinks?” Holland asks with a grin, throwing his arm around Lainey’s shoulders.
“Oh, I’m so ready. Sitting in those seats for two and a half hours made me thirsty,” Lainey winks at me dramatically. “Maybe we can find you a man.”
“She doesn’t need a man, she’s a strong, independent woman,” Gwen chimes in. She’s not exactly wrong. I don’t want a man; I don’t need one.
“You have to get back on the horse sometime, El,” Lainey tells me, tossing her brown hair behind her shoulders.
“No, she doesn’t. El’s better without a guy dragging her down,” Holland says.
Rolling my eyes, I begin to gather my things from the row of cubbies all of the cast members keep their belongings in backstage. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I start to walk out of the theatre.
“Screw a man. Let’s go get drunk,” I declare.
Holland’s right. I don’t need a guy dragging me down or distracting me from doing what I love. My rehearsal schedules are crazy. My voice lessons, dance lessons, and acting lessons keep me more than busy when I’m not actively in a show. I have no time to entertain a man, and why would I want to?
Chapter 2
Ellie
My head throbs and the room spins as my eyes flutter open. That fifth lemon drop shot was definitely a bad idea, but Lainey can be persistent. Honestly, she really didn’t have to try that hard. The combination of the post-show high, being with my friends, and thinking of he who shall not be named really set me up for failure. I try not to get blackout drunk when I go out because I like to be aware of my surroundings, but last night was an exception, I guess.
The buzzing of my phone on the nightstand adds to the pain in my head. Grabbing it, I blink a few times as I wait for my eyes to adjust to the brightness of the screen. I first check the time and see that it’sonly eight in the morning. Who would be calling me this early?
Once the number comes into focus, I realize I don’t recognize it and send it straight to voicemail. I don’t have time for that right now. I just woke up, and I feel like I was hit by a bus. The last thing I need right now is to talk to a stranger on the phone. It’s probably just a scammer trying to tell me that I owe them thirty thousand dollars or something. If it’s that important, they’ll leave a voicemail.
Groaning, I toss my phone on the pillow next to me and stare up at the ceiling. Sunlight peaks through the blinds, but not enough to make me wish I were dead. What does make me wish I were dead is the loud knocking on my bedroom door.
“Go away,” I say, my voice sounding groggy. Instead of going away, they do the complete opposite and enter the room without invitation. Lainey prances over to the bed and plops down at my side with a grin.
“Good morning, sleepy head. You look like shit,” she giggles. Narrowing my eyes, I glare at her.
“I hate you.”
“You love me,” she states with certainty.
“No, I don’t. I hate you and your husband.”
Lainey laughs. “You mean your brother?”
“Yes.”
She jumps off the bed, pulling my arm in a poor attempt to get me to move. I’m dead weight right now, and there is absolutely nothing that could get me to move out of this bed.
“Why is Dean Ashby calling you?” Lainey asks, her face pulling into a concerned expression.
Shooting upright and completely regretting it a second later as the pain seeps into my brain, I grab my phone and watch as the unknown number leaves a voicemail.
“I have no idea,” I tell Lainey honestly. We graduated years ago. I have no clue why our old dean would be calling me personally. Did I not actually graduate? Was I missing credits and they just caught it?
The thoughts swirl around in my head, progressively getting worse by the second before Lainey grabs my phone and begins to listen to the voicemail aloud.
“Hello, Miss Monroe. This is Dean Ashby calling. I was hoping we could discuss an opportunity I might have for you. Please call me back at your earliest convenience. I look forward to speaking with you.” The voicemail ends and my head reels. What the hell kind of opportunity is he talking about? Lainey and I share a questioning glance before I snatch my phone from her and re-read the voicemail translation.
“Should I call him back?” I wonder out loud.
