Leo: Stage Fright Page 2

  It was classic Bill Glover to compliment Lydia at the same time as he knocked her down.

  Before releasing her from his hug, the director whispered in her ear, "Check your dressing room before you leave. I left a little something as a token of my appreciation for all your hard work."

  "What did our great dictator – I mean, director – want?" Robin asked, joining her.

  Lydia shrugged. "He said he left something for me in my dressing room. Probably just a card, if I know him."

  Robin folded his arms and pouted. "He probably left flowers, trying to overshadow my gift."

  "You left me a gift?" Lydia was touched. "Oh, Rob, that's sweet."

  Robin dropped his usual flamboyant facade. "I signed it 'Your secret admirer'. I hope you don't mind."

  Secret admirer. Lydia couldn't help it but hearing those words made her eyes turn instantly to Eric. He was standing against a wall, sipping a soda. If he was striking a pose on purpose, it was one that caught Lydia's eye. Dressed in black jeans, Doc Martens, and a black shirt with a banded collar, he radiated a brooding mystery that was very attractive.

  "Earth to Lydia!" Robin waved his hand in front of her face. "Hello? Anyone in there?"

  "What!" Lydia stepped back, blinking in surprise. "What's the matter?"

  "Here I'm trying to be sincere and you don't even notice." Robin pressed his wrist to his forehead dramatically. "Crushed. I'm totally crushed."

  "I'm sorry, Rob." Lydia felt her cheeks heating up. "It's just that I'm, um, overwhelmed."

  Rob cocked his head and studied her face carefully. "Really?"

  Luckily, someone had put on a CD of old movie tunes and the opening phrases of the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers classic "Let's Face the Music and Dance" filled the room. Changing the subject in the most dramatic way possible, Lydia leapt into Robin's arms in a parody of glamorous ballroom dancing.

  He was surprised, but happy. As they twirled round to the delight of the onlookers, Lydia kept an eye peeled to see if Eric was watching her, too. He was – but not with the same pleasure as everyone else. His expression seemed to say, "Major show-off."

  Hmm. He's tougher than I thought.

  She and Robin ended their routine and took some bows. Then Keenan took control of the music and put on a contemporary ballad. Lydia let herself drift away from Robin in the crowd, hoping that Eric would seize the chance to come over and get acquainted. But A.J. intercepted her.

  "There's someone I want you to meet," A.J. said.

  "What's his name?" Lydia asked.

  "His? Lydia, you're so conceited," A.J. said with a smile. She pointed to a girl standing awkwardly in the corner.

  The girl was dressed in a very old-fashioned style - 1950's cotton party dress with ankle socks and strappy shoes. Her dishwater blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail at the base of her neck and tied with a pastel bow. She was the type who'd never be noticed, unless one ran over her.

  "Isn't that the girl from Wallflowers Anonymous?" Lydia asked breezily.

  A.J. slapped Lydia's wrist. "Be nice."

  They worked their way over to the new girl who, upon seeing them, straightened her skirt and forced a shy smile.

  "Lydia, say hello to Page Adams," A.J. said. "I kept running into Page around the theatre. Turns out she's your biggest fan."

  "Really?" Lydia gave Page a dazzling smile.

  "I came to every performance of My One and Only – just because of you," Page murmured. Her voice was soft, almost trembling with awe. "I could watch you for ever!"

  "Why, that's so nice," Lydia replied. She was genuinely flattered.

  "I know this is silly," Page continued. "But I left a little present for you in your dressing room. I asked A.J. and she said you wouldn't mind."

  "A present?" Lydia repeated, glancing at A.J., who nodded.

  "It's a brooch that belonged to my grandmother," Page explained. "She gave it to me before she died."

  "Oh, I couldn't take something like that—" Lydia began.

  "Please." Page touched her lightly on the arm. "I want you to have it."

  "Well...thank you," Lydia said graciously. "How is it that you came to every performance?"

  "I'm new in town," Page said, without looking up. "I don't know many people, don't have any friends. But I've always loved the theatre. And I found out that the bus near my house stops right near the Youth Theatre. So I came to opening night, just on a whim. And I've seen every show since."

  "Are you in theatre, too?" Lydia asked.

  "Oh, not like you," Page replied. "I did a little acting in my home town. But nothing serious. Mostly children's shows. One time I played Glinda the Good Witch, in The Wizard of Oz. It was a pretty good production, until the boy playing the Scarecrow came down with a strep throat and..."

  Boring. Lydia felt her mind wander as Page listed off her modest accomplishments. After all, why should she endure the ramblings of a little theatre groupie when dark, mysterious Eric was somewhere nearby?

  "Look, Page, I'd love to chat," Lydia said bluntly, "but I promised my friends I'd—"

  "Oh, you don't have to explain," Page said, quickly retreating towards the door. The crestfallen look on the girl's face made Lydia almost wince with guilt.

  "Why don't you come to the next meeting of the Youth Theatre's drama club?" Lydia said impulsively. "We're called Caught In The Act and we meet every Wednesday night."

  "I – don't know," Page stammered. "If I'd fit in, I mean."

  "Of course you would," Lydia said, dismissing the girl's worries with a wave of her hand. "Look, we just get together to talk theatre, work on our audition pieces for future shows—"

  "You mean, you have to perform?" Page gasped.

  "Only if you want to. And we plan group trips to see the Broadway touring shows when they come through Dallas and Houston. Or do fund raisers for the Youth Theatre – stuff like that."

  "If you think no one would mind..."

  "Absolutely not. Try to make it," Lydia said.

  "OK, then. I'll be there!" Page was thrilled. The gratitude shining in her eyes made Lydia feel pleasantly warm inside.

  As Lydia and A.J. walked away, A.J. hissed, "I just wanted you to say hello. You didn't have to ask her to join our club. We don't even know her."

  "It's the least I could do," Lydia shot back. "The poor kid's new and doesn't know a—"

  "Excuse me?" It was Page again, tugging gently at Lydia's sleeve. "I'm sorry, but you didn't say where the club meets."

  "Oh. At the Backstage Club."

  "It's a coffee house two blocks from the theatre," A.J. explained. "You can't miss it."

  Page thanked them and melted back into the crowd.

  "Tell the truth," Lydia teased A.J. "It feels good to do something genuinely nice for someone every now and then, doesn't it?"

  A.J. shrugged. "Looks like you've got a loyal fan for life."

  Lydia smiled coyly. "Icing on the cake, that's all."

  She didn't mention that she would have said almost anything to get away from Page, just so she could talk to Eric.

  A.J. went to get a glass of punch, and Lydia seized the moment to introduce herself to Eric.

  She had barely said hello when he asked, "Listen, a bunch of us are going out for a late supper. Would you care to join us?"

  Lydia blinked in surprise. Wow. He gets right to the point. "Um, sure." Too eager. Take it slow. "Well, maybe. Let me check with my friend, A.J. She's my ride – but she'll probably say yes.

  "Great," he said. "Let's meet in the parking lot and we'll decide where to go."

  Perfect. Lydia suddenly felt like soda pop inside. All bubbly and fizzy. She couldn't wait to tell A.J. about the change in plans.

  "Eric asked you to go out?" A.J. asked, a deep frown on her face.

  Lydia recognized that look. A.J. was feeling left out again. Quick, better fix this.

  "Well, no, not on a date," Lydia stammered. "A bunc
h of people are going out for a bite, and he invited us along."

  "Us?" AJ.'s frown disappeared. "Eric wanted me to go, too?"

  "Well, of course. He specifically asked me to ask you." Lydia figured that a little white lie wouldn't hurt. Especially if it made A.J. feel better.

  "Eric asked you to ask me?" The frown was turning into a smile. "Well, all right, then!"

  "Come on." Lydia tugged on her friend's arm.

  "Wait a minute." A.J. dug in her heels. "Don't you need your purse?"

  "My purse?"

  "In your dressing room." A.J. talked to Lydia as if she were a small child.

  "Oh, right," Lydia said, "I'll be right back. Make sure no one leaves without me!"

  Lydia decided to miss the hall and cross the stage to get to the dressing room. It was the fastest way, and Garrett and his techies had long since cleared out.

  The stage was in near total darkness as she stepped into the wings. That's odd, Lydia thought. The techies forgot to leave the ghost light on.

  She crept along the wall, searching in the dark for the switch that turned on the work lights. But when she flicked the switch, nothing happened.

  Maybe a fuse is out. Lydia inched forward into the darkness. She decided one of the technicians must have been fiddling with the light board and damaged it. Garrett will have his hide, for sure!

  Lydia passed through the slit in the heavy velvet curtains on to the stage. She knew its configuration by heart, having worked on it so much. A few steps more and she'd be across. Just a quick stop in the dressing room, and then a run back to meet Eric.

  Maybe Keenan would see her with Eric. Perfect.

  As Lydia reached centre stage, her mood was upbeat, her thoughts running wild with romance and intrigue.

  Five more steps and I should be there. One, two—

  She stepped forward in to nothingness. First her foot. Then her body. And then she was falling...

  Lydia screamed, a bloodcurdling yell that echoed madly round the vast, empty theatre.

  Chapter three

  “Lydia? Lydia, can you hear me?"

  Side aches. Leg hurts. Neck's sore. Her eyes still closed, Lydia slowly took an inventory of the pains wracking her body.

  "Are you OK?"

  That voice. Unfamiliar.

  Lydia felt something – a hand, strong and warm – brush against her face. Struggling, she opened her eyes.

  Eric's face. Close enough to feel his warm breath on her cheek. His dark eyes were clouded with concern.

  "Are you hurt?" he murmured. "You took a major tumble, Lydia. Does anything feel broken?"

  It was then that Lydia was forced to remember that this wasn't a dream. That she had a body which had suffered more than a few cuts and bruises.

  "I don't think so," she managed to say.

  "You're lucky I heard you scream," Eric said, taking her hand. "Or you might've fallen and really hurt yourself!"

  "But I did fall," Lydia murmured, trying to raise up on one elbow. The second she did, pain shot up her arm. "Yeow."

  "Easy now," he said. "You're right. You did fall. But somehow your scarf snagged a plank on the stage floor, or you would've dropped all the way to the concrete below. Come to think of it," he added, loosening the scarf from round her neck, "you're lucky you didn't strangle yourself."

  "What happened?" Lydia's arm ached and she was confused.

  "All I know is there was enough light coming from the green room for me to see you holding on for dear life," Eric explained. "I guess instinct took over, because the next thing I remember is grabbing you and pulling you to safety."

  "My hero," Lydia tried to say, but her lips felt parched. She wished she could have some water.

  "Give her some air," Bill Glover ordered as he arrived on the scene. "Come on, folks, make way."

  Folks? Lydia squinted at her surroundings. She was on a couch stored in the prop room, which was one of several store rooms located beneath the stage. Eric was still kneeling beside her, but now a crowd had gathered round him in the dim light.

  "How'd I get in the prop room?" she managed to whisper.

  "Eric carried you over from the pit." This voice belonged to A.J., who knelt down beside Lydia.

  "What happened exactly?" Bill Glover asked, rubbing his neck like he always did when nervous.

  "I was heading towards the dressing room," Lydia said slowly. "The work lights on stage were off, for some reason – even the ghost light. Next thing I knew I was dropping through space. I guess my scarf caught on something and broke my fall."

  "Good thing, too," Robin said, bringing her a cup of water, "or you might have broken your back!"

  "Don't drink that," A.J. warned, "until the paramedics arrive and check you out."

  "Paramedics?" Lydia frowned. "I think I'm OK. Sore, but nothing feels broken."

  "What I want to know," Bill declared to everyone present, "is who's the idiot who left the trap door open!"

  No one came forward with the answer.

  "Trap door?" Lydia sat up with Eric and Robin's help. "I fell through the trap door?"

  The glum faces surrounding her nodded.

  "We were partying in the green room," A.J. said, "when we heard this horrible scream coming from the stage. We rushed in. It was dark. I went straight to the work lights switch, but couldn't get it to work."

  "I couldn't get them to work either," Lydia cut in.

  "Eric screamed for help," A.J. continued. "Someone must've gone to the booth and turned on the lights—"

  "I did," Garrett Hughes said, stepping forward. "I was up there, ah, reprogramming the board, when I heard the scream."

  "When I saw that trap door gaping open, and Eric struggling to free you, I feared the worst," A.J. said.

  "You mean, you feared that I was OK," Lydia joked, wincing a little as she chuckled.

  That Lydia was able to make light of the situation seemed to allow everyone to breathe a deep sigh of relief.

  "So you're all right?" Bill Glover asked, genuinely concerned.

  "A little bruised and sore," Lydia said, taking a sip of water. "But I think I'm OK."

  "You could have been seriously hurt," Robin muttered as he took the glass from Lydia. "I mean, you could have died because of someone's carelessness." For once he was not joking.

  "It was an accident," Bill Glover said quickly. "The trap door was left open, yes, but not to hurt you or anyone else. It was a stupid mistake, that's all."

  Lydia nodded mechanically, knowing full well that the director was already thinking about trying to protect the theatre's reputation.

  Keenan, who had been standing at the back of the group, said, "If this was a made-for-TV movie, people would think someone was trying to do away with Lydia."

  He meant it as a joke, and everyone smiled or laughed. Everyone, that is, but Lydia.

  "But the play's over," Lydia said. "Why would—"

  "There's always the next show," Keenan pointed out. "If someone didn't want you to get the lead in Evita, something like this would certainly stop you."

  "Keenan, that's enough," Bill admonished. "Sometimes you go too far! No one would purposely hurt Lydia or any other member of the company."

  Keenan shrugged. "Personally, I'd watch my step if I were you." He raised his eyebrow.

  As Lydia watched him loop his arm round Jill and exit the prop room, she shivered involuntarily. Was that some kind of threat? She certainly took it that way.

  Moments later the paramedics arrived. Even though Lydia said she felt fine, they checked her over carefully before releasing her to go home.

  Lydia realized she must have banged her left ankle on the edge of the stage because it hurt to walk. Eric caught hold of her arm and held open the door of the theatre. The flowery aroma of the Texas spring washed over her as they stepped out into the night air.

  "Seems like we'll have to wait for another night for our dinner," Eric said as they wai
ted for A.J. to bring her car around.

  "Yeah, I feel a little wobbly tonight," Lydia admitted. "I just want to go home and sit quietly."

  And shake! It was taking every ounce of her willpower not to have a nervous collapse. She'd stared death in the face and it was truly frightening.

  A.J. pulled her old orange Toyota up to the front steps of the theatre. Eric opened the passenger door for Lydia and instructed A.J. "Take her right home and put her to bed."

  A.J. nodded. "Sure thing."

  Eric shut the door, then crossed around to the driver's side. "Thanks for inviting me tonight," he told A.J. "I can safely say this is the most excitement I've had since I moved to Dallas two years ago."

  A.J. blushed. "Didn't I tell you show biz was exciting?"

  "You were right." Eric rapped his knuckles on the top of the car. "Catch you two later."

  A.J., being a little over-excited, put her foot to the pedal and her tiny car shot out of the parking lot.

  Lydia's mouth hung open in stunned surprise. "A.J.? You invited Eric to the play?"

  A.J. bobbed her head up and down so hard her short dark hair flopped in her face. "He's cute, isn't he? No. Cute's not the word. Handsome. Mega handsome. Cover-guy handsome. And nice. Soooo nice."

  Lydia couldn't believe it. Her normally sarcastic friend was acting like a giggly fifth grader. "A.J., you realize you are raving, don't you?"

  "I can't help it." A.J. took both hands off the wheel and shrugged. "He's just so wonderful."

  Lydia leaned her head back against the headrest and sighed. 'Wonderful' is the understatement of the year."

  A.J. hadn't heard Lydia. She was too wrapped up in her own thoughts. "And not affected, like Keenan or all of those other guys at our school. I mean, he must know he's handsome, but it doesn't affect the way he relates to people. He seems to accept them for what they are."