Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set Gigi Blume (fantasy books to read .txt) 📖

Emma’s scowl wasn’t lost on me. She was huddled in a group with some of the ensemble and shot an angry stare at me over her shoulder between whisperings.

“What are you all grumbling about?” I asked, half-joking, half-suspicious.

Half of them scattered like mice, the other half-feigned ignorance. But Emma stood up to her full height and raised her chin at me. “We’re planning a mutiny.”

“Oh, really? Are we pirates now?”

“Yes. Ever since you made Beth walk the plank.”

“All right.” I clapped my hands to get everyone’s attention. “No one else is in danger of losing their part. Morale is not very high—especially since we’re still waiting on Frank Churchill.”

Emma huffed and stomped to the other side of the room. “Ya think?”

“But I swear to you, Beth’s situation was unique. She was just filling in temporarily.”

“Ha!” Emma barked. I shot her a warning glare.

“Please.” I was pleading now. “If any of you have any concerns, I will be happy to go over your contract with you.”

When no one spoke up, Morris ran his fingers up the keys and started everyone on vocal warm-ups.

By the time Jennifer entered the studio, most of the actors had cooled their tempers. All except for Emma.

To make my day even more uncomfortable, she decided, for some unknown reason, today would be a perfect time to bring her mum along to witness my humiliation. The middle-aged woman was hard to read, but I was certain she was secretly planning an epic prank. Last time she visited from England, she hacked into my mobile phone and changed all my contacts’ info to emojis. It took forever to put it to rights. She took one look at Jennifer and left to spend the rest of the day with Stella.

I made a point to watch Emma while I introduced Jennifer to the room. I’d never seen such a forced smile in my life. In fact, Emma seemed to go out of her way to befriend Jennifer. She even went so far as to offer her my seat—the seat I purposely assigned for myself so I could sit next to Emma. I was forced to spend the rest of rehearsal on the other side of the room. My only consolation was that after today, the tables would be gone, and we’d start some fundamental choreography and some one-on-one scenes. Maybe even a romantic scene. Not that rehearsing a kiss was necessary in workshopping sessions, but I was the director, producer, and lead actor. I could do what I bloody well pleased. We’d spent the past two weeks workshopping the movie, changing scenes and songs around to make it better, finetuning the script and score. All the actors and creatives involved helped shape the version we now had. Not to mention late nights with Elton and Morris poring over pages and pages of music until our eyeballs burned like the Nazis in Indiana Jones. One more table read for Jennifer’s sake and then one week of basic rehearsals. One week before studio executives could see our hard work. One week until Field of Hearts was green lit. Or not. I didn’t even want to entertain that possibility.

And Frank Churchill? I had to trust he’d show up eventually, as unprofessional as that seemed. If not, there was always Elton. I prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

Jennifer’s first day was… adequate. She knew her music and was ready with her part, noting all the changes we’d made in her absence. She was quite good. But I noticed Emma wince more than a few times during Jennifer’s solo, plastering on an overly dramatic smile before anyone else noticed, showering her with saccharin-sweet compliments. Was that a tinge of jealousy? If so, it was unfounded and a little cute.

At the end of the day, as the rehearsal studio cleared, I caught Emma before she left. She hugged Jennifer as though she were her oldest and dearest friend and then frowned as she watched her leave the room.

“Where on earth did Pinky find this muppet?” she spat as soon as Jennifer was out of earshot.

“Tell me how you really feel,” I said playfully.

“Isn’t she that reality television star?” she said, trying to remember the show. “The one with the controversy?”

“The Real Teens of Belshore High,” I said.

“Yeah. She was caught shoplifting.”

“It was selling the answer key to a French test, and they never proved her guilty.”

“And then the show was cancelled after that,” she continued.

“Yes, but that’s not the reason.” Where was she going with this?

“Tell me, Jax. How does one go from juvenile delinquent to featured actor in a major motion picture?”

“That was years ago,” I said. “She’s been in a couple of indie films, and Pinky thought—”

“Pinky’s a nutter,” she hissed, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone heard her. “Come on. Let’s talk in Stella’s office.”

She laced her fingers with mine under the ruse of guiding me out the door, but we both knew I could navigate there myself just fine. That didn’t stop me from squeezing her hand, though. I only wished Stella’s office was further away, so we could walk hand in hand for a while longer.

Emma sprang open the door with an abrupt thud, still holding my hand. We rushed in so fast, the two occupants of the room jumped and shuffled around as though they were hiding something. Then they both zeroed in on Emma’s hand clasped in mine and raised their brows at us, like we were a couple of randy youths.

“G’day, Stella… Mrs W.” I nodded my head to the two ladies, laying on my Aussie charm extra thick. A wry smile formed on Stella’s lips.

“What are you lot planning?” cried Emma. “I know you’re up to something. I can see it on your faces.”

She released her grip on me to cross her arms over her chest. She may have been the youngest in the room, but she held her own. I was acutely aware I was outnumbered three to one by these