Page 14 of Forget About Me

“Nah, he’s just a stray. Showed up at my house yesterday. I have to put up some signs to see if I can find his owner.”

“Well, when I walked up, it looked like you were either a crazy person talking to a dog or an actor working on his Launce audition. I’m hoping it was the latter.” He gestures to the oversized Army jacket I grabbed on my way out this morning. “You’re even dressed for the part.”

“Oh, this is my dad’s from when he served in Vietnam. I borrowed it so I could sneak Puck into the meeting. Like this.” I scoop the dog up and tuck him inside the roomy coat, but he pokes his head back out.

“Nice name.” Will scratches underneath the dog’s chin. “Are you a ‘merry wanderer of the night’?”

“Hobgoblin is more like it.”

Our steps echo in the empty hallway. “I’m glad to hear you’re auditioning at all. I was worried you were moving back to LA.”

Puck wriggles against my chest, and I readjust his position. “I don’t know what I’m doing, to be honest, but I’m not quite ready to go back. If I’m in the show, I’ll have an excuse to stick around and keep an eye on my dad.”

It might also give me a chance to mend fences with Lucy, but I’m not jinxing that by talking about it. “So, who are you auditioning for?”

“I’m just gunning to play Hamlet this winter, so I’ll take whatever they give me.”

“I guess I’ll think about the Launce thing. Though who knows how long I’ll have the dog. If I find his owners, I’ll have to give him back. Speed would be fun, actually. I always think of Launce as an old guy.”

Will opens the stairwell door. “I don’t think his age is indicated in the text anywhere.”

“Well, you would know.” I scratch the stubble I let grow on days we don’t have shows. “I can’t say I’ll be too sad to put Romeo to rest.” I shudder. The moment the costumer suggested taking my shirt off in one of my scenes, I knew it was a bad idea, and oh, had I been right.

Will’s grin mocks me. “What, you find girls screaming about your chiseled chest and abs distracting?”

I grunt. “Just a little.”

Will punches me on the shoulder. “Come on. Women throwing themselves at you after the show? You gotta love that.”

I’m not sure if any of this needling is fueled by resentment. “Not really. And you’ve seen it. It’s actually humiliating. I always thought that it was ridiculous when women complained about getting catcalled. Like they secretly enjoyed the attention? But now I get it. It makes you feel… exposed.”

Will sighs dramatically. “It’s tough being an Adonis, I guess.”

“Yeah, right.” I hesitate outside the meeting-room door. “Hey, I’m not sure Puck’s allowed in here, so I’m just going to sit in the back and hope nobody notices.” At the sound of his name, the dog’s nose pokes out again.

Will laughs. “Good luck with that.”

I gently ease the curious snout back in. “Stay,” I whisper, wishing I was good at making him behave. Maybe I just need to carry treats around like Lucy does. Or is it just her? Lyrics from that Police song filter into my mind. Everything she does certainly does turn me on. To me,Lucyis magic.

“Excuse me.” A woman—I think she played Helena in the first show of the summer season—is trying to get through the doorway.

“Sorry.” I step back to let her enter and then duck in behind her.

She whispers, “Cute dog.”

I shake my head and button the jacket up to the top as I ease into a chair along the back wall. Craning my neck, I check out the refreshments table, wondering if I can keep Puck quiet by feeding him snacks.

Deb O’Rourke, Will’s housemate and the company costume designer, startles me and gets a yelp out of Puck when she swoops in for a side hug. She shifts away to look me up and down. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just?—?”

I break off when Puck tries to get comfortable on my lap inside the jacket. Deb makes a face like she’s Ripley and I’m Kane and an alien might erupt from my chest at any moment. “That’s a pretty interesting jacket you’ve got there.”

“It’s a dog,” I whisper. “I’m trying to keep him hidden.”

“Oh, I want to see.” Then she whisper-yells across the room at her girlfriend, another designer. “Pam! Come here!”

“Deb,” I moan, crossing my arms over my lap.

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