‘Is rehearsal over, Bruce?’ Angela asked.
‘Afraid so but don’t let me break up the party.’
Magda rose to her feet. ‘Unfortunately I’ve got to get home to my Brian.’
‘And we should probably go too, right Mamá?’
‘Angela’s offered to give me a lift if you’d like to stay.’ Her eyes were full of calculating mischief.
‘That’s right,’ her co-conspirator said. ‘I’d be happy to. More chance for us to talk about you.’ Angela laughed and Sofia snorted.
Gabriel’s face flushed. What had Sofia been telling them?
He was about to say he was fine to go home but Sofia jumped in.
‘Bruce, you’ll be staying around a bit longer, won’t you?’
‘Uhhh, yeah. Building the next set.’
‘Wonderful. Gabriel can stay and help.’
‘That would be great, but only if he wants to.’ Bruce turned to him. ‘Only if you want to.’
He opened his mouth to say no but Bruce’s soft smile on his pale strawberry lips had him nodding like one of those bobble-headed toy dogs.
Sofia tittered. He glared at her and she faked a cough. ‘Sorry, excuse me.’ She struggled to her feet.
Gabriel rushed to help her stand. He really should be the one to take her home. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?’
‘Absolutely, mijo. You stay and enjoy yourself.’ She patted him on the arm. ‘Right, Angela, let’s get going.’
Angela took his mother by the arm with Magda on the other side, and the three women walked out, continuing their chatter. She might be getting frailer but her friends’ company bolstered her. She’d be fine.
That had become his mantra. She’d be fine.
‘It’s good to see her looking so happy,’ Bruce said once they were alone.
‘She deserves it.’ He flicked through the clothes on the racks. His mother had spent a lot of time there over the years. He had too, studying the clothes, watching the seamstresses measuring the actors, sewing. He’d learned the basics but hadn’t gone further, busy as he was running around with Jason, mooning over Bruce. It had been easier to draw his designs than turn them into wearable clothes, which would be a necessity if he were ever to become a designer. Unlike architecture, which had allowed him to see his ideas come to life without getting his hands dirty.
‘You deserve to be happy too,’ Bruce said.
The words stopped Gabriel mid-shunt between a red velvet evening gown and a midnight-blue lace dress. How could he be happy when she was sick? How could he be happy when Bruce and he were only friends?
‘Her happiness is more important at the moment. That and her health.’
‘If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you. I know what it’s like to take care of a parent.’
He turned around. ‘Thank you, Bruce.’
The giant smiled and raised his arm to massage the back of his neck, flexing his bicep and tensing Gabriel’s stomach. ‘I suppose we’d better get to work.’ Bruce shifted under Gabriel’s insistent gaze and walked to the door.
He shook his head. He had to get control of himself. Better to keep hold of the fantasy than be wrecked by reality. They were friends, always had been, always would be. He had too many secrets for Bruce.
Bruce waited for him to exit the room then switched off the lights and closed the door. They passed a few of the cast and crew as they went down the corridor: Kenzie with a guy and his dog, Lexi who was going home for the night. Bruce then locked up and within ten minutes the theatre was silent and empty except for the two of them. Gabriel wished they were on his verandah looking at the stars, but they had a job to do.
Set number two. Probably the easiest of the three. Bruce wanted them to work on the stage where there was more room to move. It had the added bonus of Gabriel being able to see how and if the sets would work in the space.
Bruce handed him one of his grey work shirts made of thick fabric. ‘Here, you’ll ruin your fancy shirt otherwise.’
Gabriel wore a blue linen shirt with small white squares on it. He’d bought it second-hand two years earlier. True, it wasn’t exactly work attire but he’d hardly call it fancy. What did Bruce have against fancy anyway?
He took the offered shirt and shoved it between his legs while he undid his buttons, slow at first, watching Bruce’s eyes on his hands, on his bare skin. But Bruce looked away, went to pull out some tools in preparation for the work they were doing, and Gabriel felt silly. He quickly changed.
Bruce’s shirt was made for his height and bigger build and it completely enveloped Gabriel in fabric. He rolled the sleeves and tucked the tails inside his jeans. The chest billowed so he pinned it at the back as well as he could then looked down at himself to assess how well he’d done at making it fit. There was no doubt he was wearing a shirt four sizes too big.
Bruce chuckled.
‘What?’ Gabriel said.
‘You’re not going down a catwalk.’
‘Thank God because I’d probably trip over. You really are a beast, you know that?’
Bruce brought his arms down in front of his body, flexed and gave a kittenish roar that made Gabriel burst out laughing. If there were anyone less threatening in this world, Gabriel had yet to meet them. Bruce’s bottom lip quivered and his eyes opened wide to full puppy dog, which only made Gabriel laugh harder.
Bruce’s face shone with the strength of his smile. ‘Come on, let’s do this.’
It was a small moment but one that had been so easy. There was no unhappy past to haunt them and they were now something different from what they had been. Both older, both having had time apart, both equals. That allowed him to see Bruce differently, to appreciate fully how generous he was, how much integrity he had, and how those broad shoulders of
