I hear the swishing of skirts as the movement of the voluminous white fabric catches my eye. "Carson. Grayson. Henderson," Tabitha greets us, nodding as she says our names. "You should do an updated version ofMy Three Sons." She laughs at her own joke.
I'm nervous, still being covered in the remnants of Paisley, to have this costume so close to me. I hold up my hand to warn her back. We have a way of gravitating toward each other without even realizing that we're doing it until we're somehow touching.
That would not be good in this moment, for a litany of reasons.
"Oh my God, Tabby Cat. Look at you." Carson reaches for Tabitha's hand and spins her, her dress swirling through the air.
Damn, Erica should win an award for this one.
"You look smashing, darling. Absolutely smashing." Carson continues, "Such a change from your usual ears and tails."
"I think I should only perform if I can wear a hand-crafted Erica Zheng original from now on." Tabitha laughs. Then she looks at Grayson. "You know I'm buying this from The Edison and taking it with me, right? I may never take it off."
"Certainly someone could entice it off of you, right?" I don't know why I say this. It's not like Carson is a threat or competition. Not in the least. Yet I feel the need to stake my claim.
Tabitha looks at me, her expression masked with stage makeup. I see her eyebrow lift slightly as if to challenge me. "Are you offering?"
Carson doesn't miss a thing. It's why he's so good at his job. "So, is this like a thing now? Are you Facebook official?" He motions between us.
Tabitha inhales. "You know, I like to keep my private life just that these days, but ye—"
"What Tabitha—Ms. Stetson—is trying to say is that she's here in a professional capacity and has maintained that throughout rehearsals. None of that backstage drama here," I answer curtly.
"So you two are not"—Carson looks from me to Tabitha and back again—"a thing?"
"No, we're not. We are only professional colleagues, though I've tried to make sure that Ms. Stetson's acclimated well here." I nod my chin to emphasize the point. I even fold my arms over my chest, forgetting that I'm covered in chocolate.
Tabitha's mouth falls open. Without saying a thing, she lifts the front of her skirts and is gone in a swish.
That probably could have gone better.
Chapter 39: Tabitha
Icannot cry. I cannot cry.
My makeup will run and ruin my dress. As it is, I have to put a shield on and have three people help me in and out of it so I don't stain it before the performances even start.
Hell, I can't even sit down backstage in this thing.
I've spent the last four years hiding and hiding my daughter because of a man. I won't do it again.
I'm also not wasting any more time on a man who cannot—or will not—accept me for me. And let's face it, Henderson's not there. I don't know that he ever will be. He's tried to tell me over and over, but I thought he would realize that we are something special.
I'm always going to be his Lucille. Attractive enough in a bar, but something's holding him back from going all the way.
Kenny Rogers really does have a song for every situation.
I could slap myself.It's him, not me.
It doesn't matter that he's the broken one, because it all still hurts just the same. But now I've got to stuff all those feelings way down deep so I can perform. Great.
Leslie, who’s with me in the prep room, sees that I'm on the verge of falling apart.
I told you I'm not much of an actress.
"Tabitha, are you okay? Do you need something?"
I need someone who values me the way I value him.
