To the Moon and Back Page 3

  “Ethan Moore, who I’ve been trying to get on our season for years. I finally managed it. He’s a fabulous director who knows what he’s doing. He’ll do great things here, but he wants Daniel. Insisted.”

  Lauren could understand, to an extent, why. She was a good actress, layered, and watchable as hell with how pretty she was. Lauren couldn’t argue that fact. Lauren wished she had half of Carly’s talent—maybe things would have gone differently for her. As far as Ethan Moore, of course she’d heard of him, too. He’d directed multiple times on Broadway in the past five years but would be new to The McAllister space. “Okay, so Carly Daniel, problem child, is starring in our next one. Sounds like a done deal. Keep her from dancing on top of tables and you’ll be fine. Why do you want me?”

  “You can handle her, and I want more than anything for Ethan to have a good experience here. I’d love to foster this relationship with him for future projects, and if Carly Daniel comes in and makes this production unsavory for him, he’ll always remember his time here as…undesirable. Ultimately, we’ll pay the price for it.”

  She closed her eyes. “And Matty can’t make that happen for you? I’m hours from a beach and a piña colada, Wilks. Hours,” she practically squeaked. Anything to not have to lose her vacation. She needed this vacation. She’d planned for it for over a year now. She had a bundle of little brochures all in a folder.

  “Not the way you can, Lauren. No one has your cool head and skill with people. I was nervous about not having you with Ethan already, but now that Carly Daniel has been attached to the project?” He shifted and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I really need you and will buy you eighteen piña coladas when this is said and done.”

  She glanced at the clock apologetically. “I need to get this performance going.”

  “Of course. I’ll scoot-scat out of your way.” He did a little dance to lighten things up, which Lauren appreciated. Wilks, who had to be in his late sixties, could be cute despite his otherwise distinguished persona. She wanted to pat him on his head while still carrying great respect for him. “Think about it? You’d be the hero of this place.” He backed away. More scoot-scatting. “And you’ll be compensated appropriately.”

  “You should have led with that.”

  He pointed at her. “I will next time. And Lauren?”

  “Sir?”

  “You’re the best goddamned stage manager in the business.”

  “I will remind you of that someday when you forget.” He nodded and snuck away so she could do her job for the next three hours and give this show a proper closing. The compensation part of his offer didn’t sound half bad. As a stage manager, she was a member of Actors’ Equity, and there was a minimum pay scale in place. Hearing Wilks say he’d go above and beyond did carry some weight. Maybe if she put off her vacation a bit, she could take a few extra perks for herself. Fly first class. Upgrade her reservation to one of those upscale all-inclusive places with private cabanas and butlers that brought the fruity drinks. She closed her eyes and imagined herself in a bikini, the sun caressing her skin. God, could she really give that up?

  “Lauren, we’re at fifteen,” Trip informed her.

  “Right, right, right. My fault entirely.” She made the fifteen-minute call to everyone backstage and checked in via headset with her house manager, who reported everything out front was on schedule for an on-time curtain.

  Twenty minutes later, they were wandering their way through a Sondheim journey, the audience on the edge of their seats. From the booth that overlooked the house, where she called each and every show, Lauren could occasionally catch a glimpse of an audience member’s face as they went along for the ride, gasping and glancing at their seatmate for each plot twist or turn. She loved that about theater. Back when she used to be an actress herself, she’d taken great pride in affecting those who took in her shows. When an audience member cried or laughed loudly, she carried that energy with her and brought it back out again in appreciation of that relationship. That actor-audience connection was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Those kinds of thoughts always made Lauren’s heart squeeze.

  She missed life onstage. Not to say she didn’t love her job. When acting hadn’t panned out after college, she’d made a choice for herself that would keep her in the business she dearly loved, working to tell stories every day. Her skill set fit nicely into stage management. She’d started as a production assistant at a lower level regional theater in Missouri, worked her way up to assistant stage manager after a couple of years, and eventually became a PSM. Landing a resident gig at The McAllister had been a dream come true. Well, a second-choice dream come true after that first dream didn’t pan out. People could have multiple dreams, couldn’t they? And she didn’t take anything for granted. No, sir.

  Four and a half hours later and Lauren swirled her lemonade margarita and adjusted her burgundy cocktail dress. The cast party, always traditionally held at the upscale Argyle Hotel, was fully underway. Everyone was doing that thing where they reminisced about how far they’d all come together, hugging everyone else to excess, and professing how much they were going to miss each other. Though it was definitely a routine process for the closing of a show, it didn’t make the sentiments any less sincere.

  “Lauren, I don’t know how I would have survived without you,” Emily Heitner said with a flutter of dramatic hand gestures. She was a well-respected actress who’d played the role of The Witch. Kisses and kind words followed.

  “Oh my goodness, Lauren. I might miss you most of all,” a male cast member gushed. More kisses and kind words. There was a welcome predictability to it all that she truly cherished.

  They danced and sang with the music as the beverages flowed more freely, and when most of the cast and creatives cleared out, Lauren did, too.

  She walked to her sky blue Mini Cooper with the white top just after eleven that night and heard footsteps behind her. When she turned to see who followed so closely, she wasn’t surprised.

  “Hey, there,” Tinsley said. “That was a lot of fun.”

  “Hey, Tins. It was. Headed home?” Tinsley Worth was an up-and-coming scenic designer who was currently working under their head of department. She lent her artistic talents to their main stage sets and got to design some of the smaller children’s shows in the adjoining space.

  Tinsley leaned against the Mini and smiled. “I was actually seeing where you were headed. Thought maybe you’d want to grab a drink?”

  Lauren considered the offer. Tinsley was cute, and friendly, and her crush on Lauren seemed apparent. Lauren just wasn’t sure she had the time in her life to offer to someone right now. It was possible all Tinsley wanted was a hookup, but wasn’t that a bad idea with people you worked alongside? Hadn’t she just given Trip that same advice? As tempting as it was, Lauren decided to sidestep the offer.

  “You’re sweet, but I’ve had such a killer day, you know?” She tapped the top of the Mini. “Gonna head home and play sock tug-o-war with Rocky IV, and maybe have a Baileys on the rocks before bed. Still debating whether I’ll wear the footie pajamas or not, wild child that I am. No photos, please.”

  Tinsley laughed. “You definitely have the pajama fashion down. So, I’ve been wondering about something. Is Rocky your fourth dog named Rocky?” Tinsley asked, flashing her smile again. Yep, she was looking for some action, and Lauren just wasn’t prepared to go there with her. She was a pretty girl, and friendly, and gay as hell, but that didn’t necessarily mean Lauren wanted to take her up on the apparent offer. Maybe her romance mechanism had busted somewhere along the way. She should be all over this chance yet wasn’t. That said something.

  “No, I just prefer the fourth movie. Rocky just wants to retire, but then his friend needs justice. Then there’s Adrian having all these feelings, and Dolph Lundgren is a fantastic villain, and I’m here for it. Does that make any sense? My brain is compartmentalized.”

  “I think I translated.” She nodded. “A very cute explanation. I’ll
let you get to those footie pajamas.”

  “I better hurry. Have a great night.” Lauren slid into the driver’s side and wondered if that had come off as rude. She’d tried to explain the Rocky IV origins with a grin attached, but maybe she was just awkward. After her long day, who knew what her face said to Tinsley? To help punctuate her lightness, she waved through the windshield just before speeding away. It would have to do.

  Her favorite snuffling pug, Rocky, did his famous front paw dance as she opened the door to her home, at long last. She dropped to the ground and mimicked his prancing back and forth. “Rocky, Rocky, Rocky,” she said to each landing of his front paws, exciting him all the more. The more he snuffled, the more thrilled he was. Finally, she toppled him onto his back and rubbed his belly and his sides vigorously, his favorite. “Do you know how much I missed you? There was this cow wandering around onstage, and it reminds me of you every time, you wiggle worm of love. I will kiss your face eight times to celebrate our reunion.” More snuffling as he was kissed. He loved kisses.

  Lauren scooped up her best friend and carried him into her living room where they collapsed together on the couch and channel surfed until her adrenaline from the day receded. She did go ahead and pull that cup of Baileys, which tasted like a lovely chocolate shake in liqueur form. Before consuming it, she took a moment to straighten the blanket on her couch and make sure it was folded neatly. Everything in Lauren’s life came with order, her lifeline.

  Once she’d accomplished her goal, she was able to breathe a little easier in her well-structured home. Magazines on the coffee table, but books on the shelves. Mug handles faced to the right, and dish towels were folded into squares. Everything had its place, and that made her happy.

  The more Lauren relaxed, the more her mind began to turn over the events of the day. More specifically, one important event. She thought on the offer before her. The question was, did she have another three months left in her? Could she push pause on a vacation that she’d already booked and pined away for in order to go back into the rehearsal room all over again?

  As she drifted off to sleep with Rocky snoring at her side, the answer was clear.

  Hell no.

  Chapter Two

  “What do you think of me in plaid?” Carly asked and held a shirt up to her chest. “I feel like in Minneapolis maybe I should embrace my plaid side. Are there lumberjack types there? I feel like I remember that from school.”

  Her best friend, Fallon, sat cross-legged on the floor of Carly’s enormous walk-in closet, one of her favorite rooms in all the world. “I think you look great in plaid, and isn’t Minnesota where Little House on the Prairie took place? Plaid worked for Walnut Grove, though I think they’ve industrialized quite a bit since then.” She said it with a semisarcastic grin and turned another page of the Cosmo she’d found on Carly’s bedside table. “Did you know that blueberries are a superfood? I feel like my day just made progress.”

  “I did know. I have some in my fridge if you’re hungry.” She was struggling with what to pack for this unplanned jaunt across the country. “What about sweaters? I feel like sweaters are making a strong comeback.”

  “I didn’t know they’d been banished.”

  “The heavier ones certainly were. Chunky heels were also temporarily on the no-fly list. I never know who decides such things, but I wish they’d slow down a little bit with all the shifts.”

  “I kinda feel like you and your fellow starlets do.” Fallon shook her head. “Leave it to me to be on the wrong side of fashion for the twenty-ninth year in a row. I’m five years behind at all times. It’s almost a badge now.”

  “You always look great, Fal. I’m serious. I love your sense of style.”

  Her friend looked up with a soft, genuine smile. “Thanks, Car. I appreciate that.”

  Carly and her best friend Fallon Mendez met once upon a time on the set of an early indie film that had helped put Carly on the map. Fallon had been a production assistant and Carly had a small but memorable role in the film, that had come with a dramatic death scene, blood packets and all. They’d bonded at the craft services table over their mutual nervousness about possibly losing their jobs. A friendship blossomed, and they’d never looked back. Other than her mother, who was less than reliable, Carly didn’t have too many people she would consider close to her. A million acquaintances? Sure. But she tended to keep people in that category on purpose. Fallon was different, and she treasured their friendship.

  Fallon set the magazine aside and blinked at Carly. She had her jet black hair pulled back in a ponytail which accentuated the earnestness in her eyes.

  “It looks like you have something on your mind,” Carly said. “I may be crazy, but I’ve known you a while.”

  “I’m worried about you,” Fallon said simply.

  Carly tossed the plaid shirt into her open suitcase, deciding if nothing else, she could always tie it around her waist. “That I’ll be in Minnesota when autumn hits? Oh, me, too. I’m not built for extreme cold. I’m a cabana in the summer kind of girl. Maybe you can send me igloo building instructions.”

  Fallon inclined her head to the side as if waiting for a loud noise to cease. “I know that it’s your instinct to joke your way through most anything serious, but that’s part of the problem. I love you, so let me say this.”

  Carly paused midfold, with an ache in the pit of her stomach. If anyone could make her shut up for a moment and listen, it was her best friend. Fallon was grounded, kind, and intelligent. Because her thoughts were important, Carly took a seat on the plush beige bench in her closet. “Okay. Sure, Fal. I’m listening.”

  “Don’t screw this up. I know you think that Hollywood sidelining you is temporary, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re on The Tonight Show again, but it’s not.” Fallon now read scripts for a major studio and was in a good spot to have her ear to the ground. She would know, which Carly found sobering. “You need to get your act together and show the world that you are a wise investment again.”

  Carly smiled. “I get that. But, Fallon, this is some little stage production that no one is going to see or talk about. How hard could it be?”

  Fallon pointed at her. “I love you, and you have a kinder heart than most people realize, but it’s that kind of thinking that’s going to bite you in the ass and have you doing informercials to pay the mortgage on a house that could fit in a tiny corner of this one.” Fallon pushed herself up and placed her hands on Carly’s knees. “Take this very seriously, and do the best work of your life.”

  Carly offered a mock salute and a smile. Her goal was to reassure Fallon, but honestly, she wasn’t concerned. This play should be a cakewalk, and then she’d get back to the business of her real life. She gave Fallon’s hair an affectionate ruffle. “You got it. My best behavior.”

  Fallon sighed. “You’re doing very little to convince me.”

  * * *

  “Wow, so you’re doing the show,” Trip said, sliding in next to Lauren on the first day of rehearsal. “I was shocked when I heard. Twizzler?”

  “No, thanks.” She sighed, then reconsidered and snatched a rope. “I put my entire vacation on hold. Can you believe I did that? I still can’t. I’m in mourning and still tanless.” She made a circle in the air with her Twizzler. “It’s a whole thing.”

  “Noted.” Trip, who’d make a great PSM someday, grinned. His mop of brown curls seemed to contribute to his enjoyment. In fact, his hair had a way of communicating emotion in the most rare sense. Lauren had never seen anything like it. When he was happy, his hair bounced. When he felt depressed, it fell softly against his forehead. When he partied, it stood straight up. She wasn’t sure how in the world he managed to personify emotion so perfectly.

  He gestured back with his Twizzler. “Must have made you quite the deal because you were dead set on getting out of here for a while. Still can’t believe anything was able to keep you from the beach. You’ve been talking about it for a year. Not that I’m c
ataloging you.”

  “You have no idea how badly this hurts.” She shrugged. “But I’m human, and I saw the dollar signs and leaped. I could use that cash, and now I’m an official whore in stage manager’s clothing, and you should feel free to call me such.” She pointed with her Twizzler. “Daily.” Lauren shook her head as she reflected on the large bonus Wilks had tacked on to her normal paycheck. He must have had a rainy day fund stashed away somewhere. She grinned at Trip and did her best to shift gears. “But—and I say that with an exclamation point—happy to have you on board for this one. Didn’t mean to gloss over that very important fact because I adore you forever.”

  “Thanks, Lala. I plan to do you proud.” Trip would be the perfect assistant stage manager for the show, and because the production was not a musical and had fewer moving parts, he’d be the only ASM, aided by a band of production assistants. Trip could anticipate her moods like no one else, and that made him incredibly valuable. He’d come up from the stage management program at University of Michigan and hit the ground running from a young age. He was professional, fun loving, and kind, a hard to find combination, so she planned to keep him. If she could just get him to be a little more organized, and turn the lust meter to low, he’d be the full package.

  Lauren stapled the last of the Starry Nights company contact sheets and dropped them in the pile that contained the rest of her paperwork. With their first rehearsal underway in just a few minutes, she now had all her ducks in a perfectly assembled and well-behaved row. Nothing gave her more satisfaction than order and structure. She lived by it. Now she was ready to get this show on the road.

  Over the next ten minutes, members of the eight person cast filed in one at a time along with members of the design team, who would sit in and make individual presentations to the cast. She watched as Ethan Moore took a moment to greet each person with either a warm handshake or a hug. He’d worked with some of them before, she realized, listening in on their small talk. Her initial meeting with him, after finally taking the gig, had left her with a strong impression of him as both an artist and a director. Each director was different, and understanding how they worked helped Lauren anticipate problems on the road ahead. Ethan seemed the type to know exactly what he wanted and, beyond that, came with a strong vision for the show. She didn’t pick up on any hothead vibes either, which was a blessing. God, Lauren loathed working with short-tempered directors motivated by ego. No, this guy gave off a kind, thoughtful, warm vibe that made Lauren feel like he was going to be a good guy to work alongside. Plus, his creative reputation preceded him. He was a visionary.