Page 22 of Uriah's Orbit
Bill pointed at Austin. “You are nothing but a fuckload of trouble, Lowell. Screw up my ticket sales, and I’ll end your run before you begin.”
I looked up the ticket sales on Tuesday morning when I walked into the theater. The sales reps were all grinning from ear to ear.
“Sales? What sales?” one of them said. “There’s nothing left to sell. We have a few single and double sets on random Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturday matinee, and that’s it. We’ve mostly sold out over the weekend.”
I laughed. There was no way they were going to can him, or stop him, whether the song was in the show or not.
We all ran through the rough spots on Thursday morning and then set up for the full dress that afternoon at two—when the media would be there.
I pulled a few more stitches tight in the first costume Austin had on. He looked slightly pale and shaky and tried to wipe his hands on the pants a few times.
“Austin! Stop! You’re going to stain the pants. Sweat and oil can show up!”
“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled.
“Is Mister Big shot Candy-Pop Artist nervous over a little Broadway play?”
His breathing grew shallow as his chest heaved. “It’s not a little thing,” he said. “I’ve been dying for this for years. I didn’t start out to be a pop star. I wanted to do Broadway. I thought that UDLR was a stop off, not an eight year, multimillion dollar tour, two platinum gig.” Austin fisted his hands and let them go again. “And, I argued with the director. That’s a huge no no and I know it, but that song is so…hopeful and we need hope right now.”
“Stop being fucking adorable,” I grumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said.
It was quiet a minute and I pulled another thread to adjust the sleeve.
“Do you think I can do this?”
I pinned the thread and stepped back. “You are nervous.”
“Of course, I’m nervous. I’ve had less than two weeks of rehearsals and I’ve never done this before!”
I shook my head. “Look, Austin…you’re good. Better than, actually. Rubens, who was the guy who was fired, was a decent singer and decent actor. Terrible at connecting to his costars. Not very audience attune. He was the reason we had low numbers. It was a good performance, but not…mind blowing.
“You,” I said, poking his arm. “You went out there and stole the stage with anunrehearsedversion ofBring Him Homethat Colm Wilkson couldn’t pull off. You stood up to the director for something you thought would add to the show. You have worked almost ten days straight to bring out the Radames that this show doesn’t deserve.” I stepped back and considered him. “And, look fuckinggoodwhile doing it. Mm. Yes.”
He looked down. “It’s just a tunic.”
I gasped in gay, my hand flying to mydécolletagein shock. “How dare you! Have you looked at my creation on you in the mirror? Look, look!” I bustled him off the fitting platform over to the five sided mirror booth.
He was wearing the black tunic and pants that the head costumer had designed, but instead of just being plain, or with the red piping of the officers, his was piped in gold of the General of the Armies of Egypt. He had a huge Eye of Ra embroidered on the back, and each side where the breast pocket would be was a beaded Isis and Osiris.
And I had fitted it. I took everything I knew about fashion and fit, and I made it look like there was no way in or out of that thing.
Austin’s eyes bugged out, and he turned to the right, then left, then back, and jerked a little. “I…I work out. I have to. A flabby popstar wouldn’t work. But…does my ass really look likethat?”
I smirked. “Mm. Fuck yes. It does. Even better in the gold pants. And you should see it in the wedding suit. Mm.” I patted him firmly on his perfect butt. “Give me something this nice and it’s a pleasure to work with.”
The air between uslit upand crackled. I was stuck in those gorgeous pools of aqua blue, swirling and drowning. I wanted to skim my fingers through the soft dark brown curls, and taste his pink lips to see if they were as sweet as they looked.
“…fuck,” Austin breathed, and pursed his lips.
Holy shit, there was pure heat between us.
I glanced at my watch as a pretense to see if there was anyone lurking at that moment. There wasn’t and he had fifteen minutes until starting marks.
I was going to regret this.
