Running back, she grabbed Sean’s hand and dragged him forward. This was his moment too; they’d adapted the play together. The curtain finally fell again, and the cast spilled offstage in a frenzy—wig caps pulled off, beards ripped away, giggles echoing through the wings, as everyone hurried to the greenroom bar via the dressing room.
In the chaos, Sean reached for Chloe’s hand again, just as John swept between them, flinging an arm around each of their shoulders. His long red hair shone bright as a beacon beneath the backstage lights.
“Well done, you two,” he said, beaming. “Another Adler-Fairway spectacular.”
Chloe hugged an arm around his waist and grinned up at him. “None of it would work without your music. That piano solo during the dance scene…” She kissed the tips of her fingers.
“John, who’s that guy on the double bass tonight?” Akiko asked, skipping in front of them. “He is yummy.”
“Evan Marlow,” John said casually. “Lovely man, not your type.”
Akiko stopped dead, hand on hip. “Excuse me. How is he not my type?”
“He has a boyfriend.”
“Of course he does,” she groaned, throwing back her head dramatically, then yanking out pins to send dark braids tumbling free. “I swear I am cursed to only fancy unavailable men.”
“Um, two eligible straight men standing right in front of you, Kiko,” Sean said, clutching a hand over his heart like she’d wounded him.
“You two don’t count,” she shot back, giving Sean a playful shove. Sean glanced across at Chloe, but she had taken a deliberate step ahead.
They found the dressing room corridor in chaos—heat, chatter, bodies everywhere. A man, probably Rocco Falconi, charged out from the nearest door wearing nothing but a glittering thong and a plastic bucket on his head, shrieking with laughter as someone chased him down the corridor. The four of them flattened against the wall to avoid a collision, and Chloe let out a startled laugh.
She took the opportunity to pause, pressing her palms against the cool plaster wall. She wasn’t ready to go in there, to brave the soup of sweaty bodies, brush the tangled nest of hairspray and pins from her auburn curls, and put on her regular, boring clothes. She wasn’t ready to go back to reality. Not yet.
“Let’s give it a minute,” Sean suggested. “Wait for the chaos to clear. Drink at the top?” Before anyone could answer, he slipped inside the heaving dressing room, then returned seconds later clasping a bottle of champagne.
“Always be prepared,” he said with a grin, handing the bottle to Chloe like a trophy.
No one needed much convincing. They snuck up the metal staircase that led to the lighting bridge above the stage. They weren’ttechnicallyallowed up here, but the stage manager would be too busy to notice. Chloe and Sean often sat up here after rehearsals, looking down on the world they were building onstage. This was her happy place, where she felt in control. And the act of creating, of deciding how your story would play out, it lit something inside her in a way nothing else did.
Now the four of them sat side by side in a line, Kiko and Chloe at either end, the boys in the middle, legs dangling over the edge, listening to the last of the audience leave and watching the stagehands dismantle the set below.
Sean reached for the bottle, then raised it in the air. “A toast, to my leading ladies.”
John and Akiko clinked invisible glasses, while Chloe rested her forehead against the cold metal railing.
“I want to freeze this moment,” she said quietly. “Us four, here. I want it to always be like this.”
They all leaned a little closer to her, a moment of still, as though they were trying to make her wish come true.
“Oh, hey,” Kiko said, reaching across both boys to tap Chloe. “I didn’t want to tell you before the show, but I heard someone say there was a talent agent in the audience tonight.”
“What?” Chloe gasped, sitting bolt upright.
“Yeah, I thought it might freak you out if I told you before. Imagine if you got an agent out of this?”
“Oryoucould,” Chloe said, her pulse quickening, veins still thrumming with adrenaline.
Akiko laughed, reaching for the champagne bottle. “But I don’t want to be an actor. I just like playing dress-up with you guys.” She took a swig of champagne. “Whereas you, Chloe Fairway, will be a star one day.”
“Don’t forget about us when you’re rich and famous,” Sean said, nudging her with his shoulder.
“Oh stop it,” Chloe said, ducking her head, but she felt the warm fizz of possibility bubbling within her. Could she really be good enough to do this professionally?
Sean reached over and gently squeezed her hand, his pupils flaring as he looked at her. “If anyone can do it, you can.”
“ ‘The reward of a thing well done is to have done it,’ ” John said, like a wise old owl. He had a quote for every occasion. Then he carefully removed his wire-rimmed glasses and started cleaning the lenses on his shirt.
