Page 28 of Suspicions on the Stage
PuckBoy:
Blinking, I glare at the screen for a moment. I don’t know which one of them changed the text names, but I’m going to find out and murder the asshole.
PuckBoy: Slade, I’m in the Beau and I need a place to take cover for a few minutes.
MusicMan: Nice nickname. I’m in the theater. We’re doing auditions for the spring musical. You can come here.
PuckBoy: How do I get there from the main entry?
MusicMan: Cross the foyer, head down the stairs at the end of the hall and take a left. Follow that hall until you reach the end and take the door marked Orchestra level.
PuckBoy: Got it. See you in a few.
Clicking the screen off, I use Slade’s instructions to navigate my way through the unfamiliar place. I haven’t needed to come here yet, and I wasn’t lying when I told Slater that I had too much work to screw around. I’m not coasting at State U with my course load and this legal bullshit has made my shit pile up. We’re getting closer to midterms and I have to focus to make sure I stay eligible.
When I finally reach the last door, I tug it open and step into the beautiful theater through what is definitely a side entrance. It doesn’t take me long to find the pretty blond amongst the musicians and professors. He’s helping to run the auditions, it seems, from the stage behind a gorgeous piano. That confuses me—I’m not sure how or why he’d be using a piano to audition the instruments.
But then he stands, gesturing for me to join him, and my eyes widen. He gives me a baleful look when I freeze and cough, thenscurry up the side stairs to cross the brightly lit stage to the place where the siren is seated. “Um… I don’t know, man. This isn’t really my thing.”
Slade laughs, shuffling some papers as he scoots over. “I’m not asking you to audition, Lucas. Sit with me while we run through this batch of guys, and by the time we’re done, I’ll be able to leave. I have a shift at the cafe, and we can walk together.”
Blowing out a relieved breath, I nod as I sit down. “Okay. Because I am without a doubtnota hidden prodigy alaHigh School Musical. I’m not a terrible singer, but off the ice? My rhythm is absolute shit, man.”
“Then we’re all fortunate that I didn’t assume you were the savior ofSweeney Toddat State U.” The siren grins, bumping my shoulder with his, and I laugh softly. “Now, shhh, while I play the next guy in or we’re both going to get mobbed with musical theater nerds.”
I zip my lips as his hands dance over the keys, mesmerizing me with their ability to make the sounds of this song echo in the room. I’ve always been a sports guy, and even in lower schools, I didn’t have time to experiment with stuff like arts programs. It’s no big shame; I’m not talented that way. But I can appreciate how skilled Slade is, and when the magic user auditioning steps on stage, I know he’s pretty good.
People in the audience are looking at him like puck bunnies look at hockey players.
The guy’s voice is strong and clear, moving through the sad song as our siren plays. I feel like this is going to be the one they pick, but when he’s done, he just bows and strides off-stage on the other side. I frown as the professors in the seats scribbleon tablets or notepads, staying quiet as they make notes or whatever.
“That guy isn’t being picked?” I murmur to Slade as he re-arranges the sheets on his stand again. “He seemed really good.”
“He was good,” he replies as he shrugs. “But we have no idea how good the next five or ten people will be. You guys have tryouts, right? Coaches don’t pick the first guy who’s good with a stick, do they?”
I frown, considering that. “No, they don’t. Though, to be fair, a lot of that is decided based on things that happen in a longer career rather than single auditions for each piece like theater.”
Slade pushes his glasses up, his aqua eyes amused. “Yes, well, even the big stars occasionally have to sing for their supper when it comes to shows. And unless someone’s being juiced in by a producer or director, there’s competition at every level of the arts.”
I nod, taking that in as the next guy comes out when his name is called. “Except Hollywood, right? That place is kind of nepotistic and whatever, yeah?”
“Hollywood isn’t theater, Lucas. Don’t be silly.”
He sounds so offended that I grin to myself while he’s playing the beginning of the song for the new guy. When this one opens his mouth, the fucking stage practically trembles and I curse under my breath. Slade arches an eyebrow at me as if to say ‘see what I meant’ and I nod. He was right about not knowing if the next people would be better, and this dude is making my face vibrate with his singing.
I continue to watch as six or seven more men audition, impressed by the range of talent—even those who had more confidence than actual skill. The serious-looking guy in the audience stands up from their table and calls a ‘fifteen’, which makes Slade sigh in relief. The siren gathers his music, stuffing it in a messenger bag as he turns to me.
“Thank hell. I’ve been doing this for hours and one of the other grad students will take over now. I enjoy it, but it’s just a long damn day.”
Nodding as I follow him back the way I came in, I wait until we get out of the theater area to ask, “Why do you do it, then?”
Slade laughs, shaking his head. “Because I get paid, just like at the coffeehouse, and then I didn’t have to take money from my asshole parents, man.”
I arch a brow. “Do youwantto do it? Because you don’t have to—not anymore. Between the prince and me, you really don’t have to worry about that shit anymore. I’m happy to make sure you get… I don’t know instrumental stuff or whatever you need. Liam would be, too.”
“If I wanted that, Iggy would have been doing it for years,” he says with a smirk. “But thank you. I will take company, and help, and lots of other things… but for the moment, we’ll leave money out of the equation.”
I thought I liked the guy before, but today’s been a whole different side of him.—Slade Finn is a damn fine man.
