A Midsummer Night's Fling (Stage Kiss Series Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Beth Matthews
Three
After mastering the suicidal urge to kiss his ex-girlfriend, Max bolted from Nicola's apartment, barely shy of outright rudeness. On his way down to the street, he called Rita. "We're in business. You can tell the big boss lady we have a Titania." He tried to sound chipper and excited instead of sick with panic.
"Oh no, mijo," Rita said. "I am booked absolutely solid today. You call Isabelle for me. I don't have time for it myself."
"Rita, it's your job ."
"Yes, but you see it is impossible." Something metallic rattled on the other end of the line; Rita playing with the mess of silver bracelets she perpetually wore on her wrist. She was fidgeting, nervous.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Rita sighed, her breath shushing over the speaker into his ear. "I did not exactly tell Isabelle what our plan was."
Max winced, and a vision of himself stabbed and stuffed away in the prop closet danced in his head. His artistic director, the big boss lady Isabelle, was going to kill him, and he didn't think she'd waste a good dead body when it might be a useful prop for some future show. "You went behind Isabelle's back? Are you crazy ?"
"She was going to foist one of the little fairy girls on me. At least she's given up on playing Titania herself."
Max grimaced. Isabelle had been playing Titania at the RSF for the last fifteen years. She hadn't taken the rejection gracefully when Rita had suggested using a younger actress this season. Yet another reason re-casting Titania was a huge pain in his ass.
"You charm her, Maxim," Rita cooed. "Isabelle never gets mad at you."
"What are you going to do if Isabelle says no? I put my nuts on the chopping block to get Nicola, and you're telling me there might not be a part for her at all ?"
"No such thing. You talk to Isabelle, use your pretty face for some good, and there won't be a problem."
Rita hung up.
He furiously redialed, but her number went straight to voicemail. Swallowing a vile oath, he bounded the rest of the way to his car. He had to reach Isabelle before some big-mouthed idiot in the company blabbed Rita's plan. If he talked to Isabelle first, if he was able to sooth her ego and massage her business side then there wouldn't be a problem.
But if Isabelle heard of Nicola's casting through the creeping grapevine of theater gossip then Max was well and thoroughly fucked.
And not in the good way either , he thought, Nicola's image hovering on the edge of his mind.
Snap out of it, Fiesengerke. Your career is on the line . The career he'd smashed to pieces five years ago. The career he was only now putting back together with any kind of success. Don't screw up again . With that sobering thought, he threw himself into his car, burning rubber toward the theater.
***
Despite having made the drive countless times before, Max was continually surprised just how schizophrenic an area Pasadena was. Every block he passed seemed to have a different aesthetic. One minute he was cruising through a charmingly upscale shopping district, the next he was in a poor urban area. One minute small family homes and apartment buildings filled the street, then the next block had million dollar mansions like Max's brother's house. One street had the quintessential line of California palm trees but, when he turned another corner, the yards were more classic American suburb with pines and ivy on every corner.
This confusion of neighborhoods seemed, alarmingly, to mirror Max's inner turmoil.
Not Nicola. Not again . The end of their relationship had nearly killed him last time. He hesitated, fingering the hands free CALL button in his car, wondering if he should dial Peter. His brother was an ass, but he was good at talking Max out of doing insane things.
Like falling for Nicola again.
You're overreacting . Nothing existed between him and Nicola anymore. And so there was nothing to worry about. Right .
Normally, Max liked to admire the scenic grounds surrounding the
After mastering the suicidal urge to kiss his ex-girlfriend, Max bolted from Nicola's apartment, barely shy of outright rudeness. On his way down to the street, he called Rita. "We're in business. You can tell the big boss lady we have a Titania." He tried to sound chipper and excited instead of sick with panic.
"Oh no, mijo," Rita said. "I am booked absolutely solid today. You call Isabelle for me. I don't have time for it myself."
"Rita, it's your job ."
"Yes, but you see it is impossible." Something metallic rattled on the other end of the line; Rita playing with the mess of silver bracelets she perpetually wore on her wrist. She was fidgeting, nervous.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Rita sighed, her breath shushing over the speaker into his ear. "I did not exactly tell Isabelle what our plan was."
Max winced, and a vision of himself stabbed and stuffed away in the prop closet danced in his head. His artistic director, the big boss lady Isabelle, was going to kill him, and he didn't think she'd waste a good dead body when it might be a useful prop for some future show. "You went behind Isabelle's back? Are you crazy ?"
"She was going to foist one of the little fairy girls on me. At least she's given up on playing Titania herself."
Max grimaced. Isabelle had been playing Titania at the RSF for the last fifteen years. She hadn't taken the rejection gracefully when Rita had suggested using a younger actress this season. Yet another reason re-casting Titania was a huge pain in his ass.
"You charm her, Maxim," Rita cooed. "Isabelle never gets mad at you."
"What are you going to do if Isabelle says no? I put my nuts on the chopping block to get Nicola, and you're telling me there might not be a part for her at all ?"
"No such thing. You talk to Isabelle, use your pretty face for some good, and there won't be a problem."
Rita hung up.
He furiously redialed, but her number went straight to voicemail. Swallowing a vile oath, he bounded the rest of the way to his car. He had to reach Isabelle before some big-mouthed idiot in the company blabbed Rita's plan. If he talked to Isabelle first, if he was able to sooth her ego and massage her business side then there wouldn't be a problem.
But if Isabelle heard of Nicola's casting through the creeping grapevine of theater gossip then Max was well and thoroughly fucked.
And not in the good way either , he thought, Nicola's image hovering on the edge of his mind.
Snap out of it, Fiesengerke. Your career is on the line . The career he'd smashed to pieces five years ago. The career he was only now putting back together with any kind of success. Don't screw up again . With that sobering thought, he threw himself into his car, burning rubber toward the theater.
***
Despite having made the drive countless times before, Max was continually surprised just how schizophrenic an area Pasadena was. Every block he passed seemed to have a different aesthetic. One minute he was cruising through a charmingly upscale shopping district, the next he was in a poor urban area. One minute small family homes and apartment buildings filled the street, then the next block had million dollar mansions like Max's brother's house. One street had the quintessential line of California palm trees but, when he turned another corner, the yards were more classic American suburb with pines and ivy on every corner.
This confusion of neighborhoods seemed, alarmingly, to mirror Max's inner turmoil.
Not Nicola. Not again . The end of their relationship had nearly killed him last time. He hesitated, fingering the hands free CALL button in his car, wondering if he should dial Peter. His brother was an ass, but he was good at talking Max out of doing insane things.
Like falling for Nicola again.
You're overreacting . Nothing existed between him and Nicola anymore. And so there was nothing to worry about. Right .
Normally, Max liked to admire the scenic grounds surrounding the
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