Page 57 of Forget About Me

Dark skin glows briefly in the light of a match. He draws deeply on a cigarette before speaking. “Sorry about that.” He holds up a package of Marlboros. “You want?”

“Nah. Thanks, though.” Plenty of models smoke as a way to keep their weight down, but I’d never taken to it. “I’ve got enough bad habits.”

Randall grunts. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

“I guess I keep them well hidden.” I walk along the edge of the grass, letting Puck sniff his way down the row of bushes. “Good show tonight, man.”

Randall plays Valentine, the male hero in the show, the one I’d originally planned to audition for. He manages a combination of wide-eyed innocence and lusty horndog in the role. “Thanks. You and the mutt are stealing the show, though.”

I don’t hear any resentment in his tone, but his face is hard to read in the dim light. “Sorry, I guess?”

He waves the apology down. “Pfft, it’s fine. The whole thing is working. We’re taking the people on a journey in there, and they leave a little lighter when it’s over. It’s like church, only better.”

“Huh. I never thought about it that way.” It’s been years since I went to church. My dad and I had been regulars growing up. I’d even been an altar boy.

“Yeah, you know, everybody feeling together, breathing together, it’s the best. The best of sex and church all rolled into one.” Randall takes a final, long drag before grinding the butt out on the pavement.

I laugh, picturing the priest I’d served growing up if he heard that. But I get what he’s saying. After all, when someone laughs, their body moves pretty close to how it does when they orgasm.

Which brings my thoughts around to Lucy. I wonder if she used the ticket I left for her and if she’s staying for the party along with the other VIPs. I look down at Puck. “Ready to meet your fans, little guy?”

“Hopefully, he’ll leave some for the rest of us.” Randall opens the door wide. “After you.”

Moments later, the heart-stopping vision that is Lucy in a curve-hugging red dress glides toward us, heels clicking on the tiled floor of the rehearsal room, which the set and light crew have transformed into a softly lit party room.

“Congratulations! They loved you guys!” she says before throwing her arms around me.

“We couldn’t have done it without you,” I murmur into her ear, hanging on probably just a little too long.

She squeezes me again and steps away, shoving me with sisterly affection. “Nah, you guys would’ve figured it out. He’s a smart boy.”

He answers with an enthusiastic bark, and she bends over to scratch behind his ears, exactly the way he likes it.

Maybe Puck has the right idea with a direct demand for attention. Post-show adrenaline buzzing through my veins, I open my mouth to make one of my own, but before I can find the right words, Bianca steps between us.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Lucy, one of our board members would love to meet you. She has a dog with separation anxiety.”

“Sure, no problem.” She holds out a hand for Puck’s leash. “I think I’ll take our little friend along, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I think he misses you.”

As do Iis on the tip of my tongue, but before I can say it, they trot away from me.

LUCY

I glance back over my shoulder as the bubbly PR manager steers me across the rehearsal hall. Ben looks forlorn. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken his dog away. But I have a job to do too, starting with giving credit where it’s due. “Bianca, I’ve been meaning to thank you for including me in that feature for theGlobe. My phone’s been ringing off the hook with people who need help with their dogs.”

She hooks her arm in mine and gives it a squeeze. “I should be thanking you.” She looks down at Puck. “And this little guy. We had an incredible spike in ticket sales right after that article. The whole run is almost sold out!”

“Well, it was a very smart marketing ploy on your part.”

“I wish I could take credit, but it was Ben’s idea.”

I’m not sure if I’m more perturbed by her dreamy sigh as she says Ben’s name or the fact that Ben wanted to do an interview. “Really? I thought he was avoiding the media.”

“Oh, he is. But I’m shameless, so I do my best to pimp him out.” She leans in and drops her volume. “I mean, like, a picture in the paper of his bitchin’ bod gets butts in our seats. But the only way he’d do an interview was if you were involved. He didn’t want his modeling to be in the spotlight like it was forR&J. Which I get, but can we just be real here for a second? The man has got sometalent, if you know what I mean.”

She makes a little sound that’s half moan, half groan. “I can’t believe he’s hiding it behind that horrible beard and baggy clothes these days. Although he looks pretty hot tonight. I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers.”

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