Page 110 of Just Trouble

I have never worked so hard in my life. Touring can be grueling because each performance is demanding. Four or five shows a week means I can eat anything, and I’ll still lose weight. I must sweat a metric tonne each night we have a show, but it’s been over a year since we gave a performance. I start running every morning instead of once in a while, and kick up the reps on my hotel exercise program.

That’s on top of the demands of the theatre building. The wiring has to go and time is of the essence, so I help out. The roof is being replaced, too, but a great company from Havelock that worked us in. The floors are sound and so are the stairs, but some of the seats need to be refurbished. And as Wookie said, everything backstage needs to be updated. A new sprinkler system has to be installed as well as smoke alarms, and it’s like watching money take flight out of my bank account.

Still, it’s satisfying. The first time we turn on the new house lights and see the place, we spontaneously break into applause. It’s beautiful, embellished with carvings and ornaments the way no one bothers with anymore. For now, we’ll get it clean and functional, but I’m having fantasies of restoring the whole damn place to its former magnificence.

For what exactly? It’s a good question but I’m willing to defer it until after the concert. It seems like overkill forThe Rocky Horror Picture Showon one Friday per month, with twenty patrons showing up to watch. (Maybe ten.)

The best part is the donations. I thought we might have a few people step up to support the project, but every day, at least one person presses a cheque into my hand on Queen Street. It’s nota lot of money so far, but the spirit of it is encouraging. For the first time in my life, I feel like I might belong in Empire.

Noah, of course, is all over the concert. Again, he wants an exclusive. Again, I turn him down. Again, he’ll be first. The kid has no shortage of enthusiasm. I let him into the theatre that first day, and he documents it for hisbeforeshots. He follows Wookie around so diligently that I have to limit his access.

We’ve been working sixteen hours a day and even though it’s been less than a week, I’m missing Daph something fierce. I don’t want to knock on her door at midnight, though. I see her in passing a lot during the day, and we make time to talk and hang out a bit, but I’m afraid she might be slipping away.

How can I do all the things at once? I’m not sure.

Tonight, I’m leaving comparatively early because I really need to see Daph. I’m locking up when I see the car.

It comes peeling out of the night, like a streak of lightning. Everyone in the county must hear the roar of its engine. It races down toward Big Red, takes the circle around the tree with a squeal of tires, then the driver gears down and heads up the hill. I hear the car turn again, but can’t tell if it’s turned onto Caledonia or Britannia. The driver hasn’t left town. I hear tires squeal again and the engine rev and by the time I get past Jim’s antique store, I see its headlights.

In Daph’s driveway.

The headlights go out. The engine dies. And I hear a car door slam hard.

What fresh hell is this?

29

DAPHNE

It’s Thursday night and I’m trying to install the new blinds for the living room and kitchen on my own. It’s not a one-person job, even though I am a bit handy. I don’t want to ask Luke when he’s so busy and I worry that my dad might have a heart attack from the exertion. We changed around Wednesday night so my friends could help.

Cameron is mostly good at giving instruction, but Willow and I got the hardware installed. Mackenzie was held up at work so she met us at The Carpe Diem Café afterward. I’d hoped we might see Luke at the restaurant, but there was no sign of him last night.

I’m not really thinking about the merit of men who come home every night right on time, or who are reliably around on the weekend. I just didn’t realize that so much of our limited time together would be consumed by the Odeon’s renovation and this concert.

I tell myself that I’m selfish and don’t need a lot of convincing of that.

And I’m still irritable.

Missing Luke and battling drapery hardware aren’t the only reasons I’m grumpy. My period has come in all its glory, and Ihave the usual cramps on day one, combined with an epic level of horniness—an urge that can’t possibly be satisfied, whether or not I see Luke, and that just makes me more cranky.

I’ve just finishing hanging the second blind and am checking it out that it works smoothly when I hear a car park in my driveway. Not just any car. It’s a Porsche. I know the sound of that engine all too well. In fact, there’s only one person I know who owns a Porsche, someone I never want to see again.

At least I know Justin would never drive this far for anything.

But surprise, surprise. I raise the blind again and discover that it is, in fact, Justin coming up the walk to my door.

I suppose he should look good to me. He should look like predictability and all the attributes I thought he possessed before—except, you know, fidelity. I suppose he should look like a safe reliable choice and the contrast with Luke should do him a lot of favours.

It doesn’t.

I recall Rafe’s view of my current choice of partner and feel myself scowl. Having been with Luke means that I don’t want what anyone even remotely like Justin has to offer.

I let the blind drop back into place and consider the merit of not answering the door.

Justin will just come back, though. I might as well get this solved.

He has chosen the wrong night to mess with me.

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