“What am I doing?”
She rolled her eyes. “Going after him, of course. You should just leave him alone.”
“I’m not—”
But a car was coming, and Leila gunned her engine, her tires squealing as she raced away. Casey wondered if the girl knew how to drive without burning rubber.
Letting Leila go with a shake of her head, Casey’s mind went back to the blow she’d just been given. Eric was Karl Willems’ son? It just didn’t seem possible.
Casey took a turn up an alley she thought would be a shortcut back to The Nesting Place. But she’d turned off a road too early, and the alley deadended at someone’s garage. Turning around, she took the next road to the left, and rode on the sidewalk until she found the next alley. This one went through farther, taking her behind Home Sweet Home, and eventually past the theater.
The theater. Where she’d felt closer to Reuben than she had in some time.
She jerked to a stop, made a U-turn, and pedaled back toward the Albion.
The parking spaces in the back were empty, and the heavy steel door was locked. She walked her bike around to the front of the building and parked the bike just off the sidewalk, underneath the marquee. These doors were open.
Stepping into the lobby she took a deep breath, wallowing in the familiar smells of dust and old wood. Newer theaters might have better technology—although not always—but nothing could beat the atmosphere of a space that had seen a multitude of performances. No matter that this place had shown movies for years. It was still a performance space, where people came to escape from reality, if only for a couple of hours.
The theater was dark except for one blue light on the stage, lit to prevent people from falling off the edge in the dark. Casey walked down the aisle, running her hand along the tops of the seats, until she stood before the stage. The polished wood on the stage floor was smooth under her fingers, and she placed her palms face down, searching for any soul, any life that had been left by actors in bygone days.
She propelled herself onto the stage, landing easily on the balls of her feet. She jumped up and took that into a spin, parrying across the stage, remembering choreography from one of her best attempts at stage combat. Romeo and Juliet.
A pencil lay in the dusty wings of the stage, and she grabbed it, holding it up like a sword.
With a yell she threw herself toward center stage, parrying, slicing, stabbing, spinning, twirling, feinting…until her breaths grew deep and fast, and sweat stood out on her face. A flat slap at Abraham, a thrust toward Balthasar…
She twisted her arm, her pencil beaten down by Benvolio’s sword, and stood in the center of the stage, imagining the lights on full. Ambers, and blues, and yellows. She closed her eyes.
And heard a door open.
With a few strides she was behind the curtain. Why she felt the need to hide, she wasn’t sure, but the urge was so strong it was almost suffocating. The curtain bunched at the side of the stage, and she squeezed behind the folds, wincing at the thought of her body oils touching the expensive fabric.
“So, this is your new digs?” The voice was raw. Unrefined. Too close. “Not as nice as the last, but hey, not everything can be Derby City.”
“It suffices.” Thomas. Casey would know that voice anywhere now.
“Oh, it suffices. Hear that Bone? It suffices. Glad you haven’t lost those big words since coming back to Buttfuck, Ohio.”
“Taffy…”
“Oh, sorry, Thomas. Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend your sensibilities.”
They were silent for a few beats.
“So, Tommy boy,” Taffy said. “Is it here?”
“No, it’s not here, Taffy. I told you. I don’t have it.”
“But you’re getting it.”
“Soon. I told you.”
“Oh.” Taffy laughed. “You told me. That’s right. Ain’t that right, Bone?”
A muffled grunt. Bone, Casey guessed.
“I sure hope it’s coming soon, Tommy, because some people are getting a little concerned that it’s taking so long. They want us to make sure it’s not that you’ve forgotten.”
“You don’t have to threaten me. Or send other people after me, for God’s sake. My word is good.”
“Oh, your word is good. Too bad your luck ain’t good, too!” He laughed again, a full belly laugh this time. The laughter quickly died out, to be replaced by the same raw timbre as before. “And we’re not sending other people after you, Tommy boy. If you’ve got me and Bone, who else do you need?”
Thomas was silent.
“I asked you a question,” Taffy said. “You need reminding other than me and Bone? You need someone else? Cause if you do, we can arrange that.”
“No, Taffy. No, I don’t. I just thought…”
“What?”
“Nothing. Nothing, Taffy. I’ll get it for you. Soon.”
Taffy grunted. “So why don’t you show us your office?”
“I don’t really have an—”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. No office for the hotshot director?”
Casey peeked out the edge of the curtain, and saw the man Taffy on the audience level, looking over at Thomas. Thomas faced away from her, so she had a good look at the other guy. Big. Thick. Uncomfortable. She watched him as he talked, his eyes narrowed at Thomas, even while his voice held its mocking tone.
Gradually, however, Casey’s focus shifted as she noticed movement on the other side of the stage. Another man. Bone, probably. Walking slowly around the stage, peering into the wings, stopping between each of the legs, the partitions made by narrower curtains to hide the rigging and actors before their entrances. Slowly he made his way across the back of the stage, looking up at the flyrails, and back toward the exits. She couldn’t see his face, as his back was to her, but she could see his outline. Lean. Strong. Hungry.
Casey eased back behind the curtain and concentrated on stilling her body. Her breathing was silent, and her heartbeat slowed, pulsing…pulsing…pulsing…
She heard a footfall. A bare whisper against the wooden floor. She kept her calm, watching for the edge of her curtain to twitch. She prepared herself, easing her weight onto her right leg, deciding which way she’d attack. A quick kick to the inner thigh to debilitate, then a sprint to the exit.
She wasn’t proud.
She held the pencil in her fingers, point up. A weapon, if necessary. She hoped she didn’t need it.
And then she could sense him. He stood on the other side of the curtain. Listening. Breathing. Sensing.
Casey gripped the pencil. Clenched her teeth.
“Bone! Let’s go. Tommy boy here’s given us his word. We have to trust him, don’t we? At least for another day?”
Casey felt the man’s distraction, and his hesitation. She waited, blinking as if in slo-mo, her eyes focused on the curtain for any sudden movement. But then his feet scuffed the floor. He stepped away.
“Come on, Tommy boy,” Taffy said. Casey heard what must’ve been a slap to Thomas’ shoulder. “Get me out of this musty hole. I’m gonna be sneezing all the way back to L’ville. Bone!”
A few moments more, and Casey heard Bone jumping lightly from the stage. Casey eased down so her head was on the floor, and peeked out the crack under the curtain. The three men were making their way back up the aisle, toward the double doors. When they reached them, Taffy opened the door, gesturing grandly for Thomas to precede him. He stepped in front of Bone, following Thomas. Bone hesitated in the doorway, and turned to look back at the stage. Casey froze, narrowing her eyes so the blue light wouldn’t reflect on them.
Bone pivoted slowly on his heel, taking in every inch of the stage.
And then he turned around, and left.
