Page 78 of Duty Unbound

“No.” She whirled on me, eyes flashing. “You’re my manager, Mel. This shouldn’t have happened! A missing dancer? A missing custom wig? What are we running here, an amateur hour?”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but?—”

“But nothing! I looked like an idiot out there!” She yanked open her dressing room door. “I need to be alone.”

The door slammed in my face. I stood there, stunned, as crew members scurried by, avoiding eye contact.

“Not your fault,” Dexter said, appearing beside me. “Clark’s never done anything like this before. And the wig—who knows? Things go missing.”

“Try telling Nova that.” I leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted. “She thinks I should have prevented all of it somehow.”

A few minutes later, Nova stormed out of her dressing room and headed up to her hotel suite. She didn’t say a word to me.

Yes, I definitely needed to find something else to do with my life.

Chapter 25

Mel

I spent the next hour searching for Nova’s wig, determined to find it. My eyes burned from exhaustion, but I couldn’t give up. Not after the way she’d yelled at me after tonight’s show.

The theater was nearly empty now, just cleaning staff and a few technicians breaking down equipment. I’d checked every costume rack, every storage bin, every corner backstage. Nothing.

“Any luck?” Logan asked, passing me in the hallway.

“No.” I pushed my hair out of my face. “It’s like it vanished into thin air.”

“We’ve got all available cameras pulled up. If someone took it, we’ll find them.”

“Thanks.”

I hadn’t seen Ethan since the show ended. He had his own stuff he was coordinating and equipment that neededto be packed up.

But I wasn’t going to lie; I could definitely use a hug. Or…something elseto distract me from all this.

My feet dragged as I made my way to Nova’s private dressing room. I’d already checked it twice, but maybe she’d misplaced the wig herself and forgotten. The door stood partially open, which surprised me. After her explosive exit, I’d expected it to be locked tight.

“Nova?” I called, pushing the door wider. Maybe she’d come back in here.

But the room was empty, makeup and personal Nova items scattered across every surface like the aftermath of a glittery hurricane. No rainbow wig.

I sighed, leaning against the counter. The mirror reflected my exhausted face back at me—dark circles under my eyes, hair falling out of its bun, lipstick long gone. I looked exactly how I felt.

A sharp knock startled me.

A young man in a courier uniform stood in the doorway, holding a medium-sized box.

“Delivery for Nova Rivers,” he said, glancing at the label.

“She’s not here, but I’m her manager.” I crossed the room. “I can sign for it.”

He handed me an electronic tablet. “Sign here, please.”

I scribbled my signature and handed it back. The courier placed the box on the makeup counter.

“Thanks,” I said, reaching for my purse before remembering I’d left it in my own room. “I don’t have any cash on me. Can I tip you electronically?”

“Sure thing.” He pulled out his phone. “I use TipHero.” He showed me the app with his name, and I snapped a picture of it.

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