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“Yes,”
“What made her think that? Be candid,” I tell him, although I swear he always speaks candidly.
“Because I held her hostage after she sneaked in to get her phone.”
“Why did you have her phone?”
“I took it from her after she posted a sexy picture.”
“Okay, Sparrow took a sexy picture, so you took her phone. Then when she tried to get it, you kept her here.”
“For the entire weekend. I hid her clothes so she couldn’t sneak out.”
“Ah. I see. Gotta run, Kiddo.”
That shit is fucking hereditary. I’m not shielding them from my crazy thoughts. This is who we are. Apparently, I’ve been too nice. Maybe fighting it is why I’m still blocked on some things. I drop my wallet in my pocket and head to the car that waits for me.
The driver looks at me expectantly through the rearview mirror. “Glenn Royal Theater, please.”
It isn’t a long ride, but there is a lot to see. I don’t leave the complex much because the ‘return of the dead twin’ is still very much a hot topic. Being swarmed just makes me tired and people can get hurt when I’m tired. Once you’re brutally attacked, it’s hard to let strangers get close.
I get out and head into the theater before I’m spotted. Rehearsal is in progress, so the people on stage don’t look over when I enter. I stop short when I see Whit, Rowe, and their women watching. I pause next to Whit’s chair.
“I didn’t know you all would be here.”
Whit stands, surprised to see me. “Yeah, she invited us, too.”
Too? It’s cute he thinks I was invited. Everest comes to me to get off. She doesn’t talk to me about this part of her life. It’s just another thing I need to clear up.
“Great, enjoy.” I move forward, but Whit stops me.
‘Where are you going?”
“I need to talk to Everie,” I tell him. I see the double take and it would be funny if I wasn’t focused.
“She’s rehearsing.”
“Yeah. I don’t give a fuck.”
I hear Rowe chuckle as I move towards the stage. Fucking Perry is touching her and since I watched Moulin Rouge recently, I know exactly what part they’re rehearsing. I change course and go up the stage stairs.
“Excuse me, sir!” someone starts, but I ignore them.
I power forward with my eyes on Perry. He says his line as he leans in, preparing to kiss her. Everie puckers up like she wants to be tied to her bed for a month, but their lips never meet because I grab her too clingy co-star by the hair at the top of his head. He yelps as I pull him back, then shove him off the stage. His legs fly up and he screams just before we hear the thud of him hitting the ground, followed by the clang of some props falling on him.
Deep laughter mingles with surprised gasps. I look up to see Mayhem in the back corner, holding his belly as his body shakes.
“Okay, let’s take the scene from the top,” I tell all the shocked people. “What’s my line?”
Perry jumps up from the ground and yells, “What the fuck?” at me.
I walk to the edge and crouch with my elbows on my knees, and lock my hands together as I look at the disheveled asshole.
“Call, text, or post Everest again and you’ll be missing fingers.” I don’t yell. It’s a cold threat because he needs to feel the fear. He gulps visibly and takes a step back when the look in my eyes tells him we’re different people. “You’re fired.”
“You can’t fire him,” the director says after he finds his voice.
Standing, I look at him. “Just did. I’m your new Christian for now or I’ll buy the fucking theater, fire everyone and recast it in my vision.”
