Page 5 of Welcome to Gothic
“Slap my butt.”
“It was just a friendly little...” At her glare, he held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Doll, you’ve got star attitude.”
“Don’t call medoll, either.”
“Oh. Ohhh.” He nodded knowingly. “You’re a butch. With those muscles, I should’ve figured.”
She was ready to take his feet out from under him, when on the well-lit stage, a man stepped out in a costume like hers minus the halter top. Or the clothes underneath. Just him and a loincloth and some of the finest thighs she’d ever seen in her life.
She let Percy’s tie slip out of her hands.
“Not a butch,” Percy observed. “Just a confused dame. Or a confusing dame.”
“Don’t use butch. Don’t call me dame.” But she’d lost her fiery edge.
The guy onstage was handsome, yes, and the body was well-done, the result of hours of workout every day, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He had something. She didn’t know what to call it. Charisma? Star power?
“I shouldn’t even have to pay you.” Percy had a smirk in his voice. “You get to kiss Hugh Capel.”
She turned her dazed face to him. “Hugh Capel?”
“Like you don’t know who Hugh Capel is. Look at you, you’re practically drooling.”
“Because he looks likethat, not because I know who he is.”
“Where have you been for the past five years? The guy’s had one hit movie after another.”
“That I believe.” Shesobelieved it.
“He’ll give you the kiss, but he doesn’t mess with the staff.”
“No, of course not. Not thestaff,”she mocked.
“All that tragedy, you know.”
Her ears virtually perked up. “Tragedy?”
Percy glanced at his rectangular-faced Bulova watch. “Better get up the stairs, it’s almost time for your stunt.”
She put her foot on the first rung.
He stopped her. “Take off those shoes first. You’re Jane. You’re barefoot.”
Of course she was. She toed out of her running shoes, took off her socks and handed them all to him.
He accepted them gingerly, then handed them off to a passing stagehand. “Where did you get those things?”
“From the Nike store.”
“Mr. Nike makes ugly shoes.”
Wendy climbed swiftly up the stairs.
Everything went like clockwork. Miss Lindholm delivered her breathless denial, stepped back, and immediately abandoned the character of a frightened Jane to become Maeve Lindholm, seasoned actress. She handed Wendy the rope and adjusted Wendy’s blond wig. Hugh delivered his line. Miss Lindholm indicated Wendy should step forward. Wendy grasped the rope in both hands and sailed down to Hugh. The impact knocked the breath out of both of them, and with a slight smile, Hugh looked into her face.
Lookedat her. Looked as if he saw her. Looked as no one had ever looked before. His smile faded. As they stood in the spotlight, hundreds of people watched, but they were alone, enclosed in a bubble of warm, secret silence.
That smile, pleased that the first part of the stunt had gone well, slipped away, and he looked at her, said to her, “Who are you?”
