Page 7 of Directing You
Chapter 3
Reid
The next morning,I arrived at my empty classroom forty minutes early. Or should I say, Faith’s classroom. It reeked of her in every corner. I opened the top drawer and found a set of her favorite pens. The micron felt-tipped kind—damn, she loved those pens. It was such a weird thing to be so passionate about, but she was. Every Christmas, she asked for them in her stocking.
I felt the smile twitch at the corner of my mouth as I pulled out a red pen and placed it on the desk. Beside it was a small sample of perfume—the kind that comes for free with purchase at the makeup counter of Macy’s. I popped the top off and held it to my nose, inhaling deeply. It smelled lightly floral and that scent launched me into years of memories with her.
“Professor Bradley?” a voice called from the doorway. I jumped, the small bottle tipping and pouring out over my dress shirt. I hissed a curse, gritting my teeth to stop myself from saying the explosive language I was thinking. Not that I couldn’t afford another damn Hugo Boss shirt, but I really liked this one. And now it was going to be stained and smell like I’d just rolled out of bed with a woman.
Not just any woman… my ex-fiancée.
I cleared my throat, looking up to find a woman a little older than me standing in the doorway. “Yes?”
“I’m Laura Dercy, the musical theater department head here.”
“I’m Reid—”
“Bradley,” she said, taking my hand and giving it a vigorous shake. “I know. We’re really excited to have you subbing for Faith.”
I gave her a polite smile, but it felt tight, stretching unnaturally across my face. “Well, uh, it’s good to be here.” I wasn’t sure quite what it was about Ms. Dercy, but she rubbed me the wrong way, leaving me shifting and itchy in her presence. Which was not exactly a feeling I was accustomed to.
“Anyway, I’m going to sit in on this morning’s class if that’s okay by you. We’re very fortunate to have you filling in for Faith this semester, and I would love to observe your brilliance at work.”
Aha. There it was. That’s why I felt so weird. She was kissing my ass. I guess it wasn’t every day they had a Broadway director subbing for a semester of classes, even if Faith only taught two classes per week. “Okay,” I said. “Faith had told me that you are very flexible with teaching styles here. I hope that it’s okay the way I’ve chosen to handle the semester.”
She waved her hand into the air as she slid into a seat in the back row. “Oh, we are. I’m sure whatever you choose to do will be great.”
A few students shuffled in, and I glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until we started.
More and more students came in. One girl stopped at my desk, her nearly platinum hair pulled back in a shiny ponytail that had the ends curling under in a way that would put Sandy fromGreaseto shame. “Professor Bradley?” she asked, smiling.
“Yes.”
Her grin widened. “I’m Jenna Duncan. It’s so exciting to meet you. I’m a huge fan of your work.”
I gave her a smile, not quite as tight as it was with Ms. Dercy, yet she still made me feel uneasy. Maybe it was this whole teaching thing that made me uncomfortable, not the people in the class. So far, everyone had been friendly, which led me to believe it was me, not them that was the problem. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Duncan. I’m excited to be teaching you as well.”
Her smile was so large I wondered if her cheeks hurt. “Have a seat,” I said, glancing at the clock. “We’ll get started.”
She scurried away, clutching her books to her chest as she slid into the front row. All in all, there were about fourteen people in the room.
I held up the clipboard that held all of the names enrolled in the course. “Is everyone here?” I asked. “You’re all adults. You’ve paid to be in this class. I assume it’s because you want to be here and want to learn what it takes to be a professional actor in New York City. So, I feel like attendance is probably not something we necessarily have to do every day, right? Be here, don’t be here…it’s your dollars you’re wasting. Then again, I suppose I’m preaching to the choir for those of you who are sitting here on time.” I looked down at my list, where there were fifteen names, but only fourteen heads seated in front of me, not including Laura. Damn. We were missing someone.
“Here’s the thing, though,” I said, moving toward the door. “In the professional world, you can call if you’re going to be late or miss a rehearsal, but those rehearsal doors usually lock as soon as warm-ups begin.” My eyes met Jenna’s, and she glanced around the room, her grin turning somewhat mischievous in a way that left me curious. I strolled toward the door, ready to lock it, as it flung open, and standing there, panting heavily, her laptop clutched to her chest—a chest I had gotten up close and personal with last night—was Ms. Hazel Moon.
