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

I had long abandoned the book I’d found. Too many long chapters about nineteenth century Russian politics. Plus, the references to food made me hungry. I hadn’t had breakfast—and lunch consisted of a cashew butter sandwich and Funyuns. My stomach growled relentlessly, and I probably had rank breath. A perusal through Ari’s mini fridge produced only a few bottles of water and some hot sauce packets, and so, I’d grabbed one of the waters and occupied myself with a piece of remnant fabric, a needle, and thread.

I’d left my rehearsal bag upstairs and even if I’d brought it down into the dungeon, there would be little in it to occupy me. In fact, the only person to have brought their things was Will, and every now and then, he’d dig something out. He reminded me of an overachieving boy scout. Or Mary Poppins. After he abandoned his efforts on the door, he pulled out his iPad and started up a movie for the other three. Most surprising, was the fact he had Moulin Rouge downloaded, as if he watched it often. I didn’t have Will pegged as a fan of anything I would share an interest in.

“You have a digital copy of Moulin Rouge?” I exclaimed incredulously.

Will glared at me pointedly. “Yeah. What did you expect?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I responded. “Fast and Dangerous one through seven?”

He sneered at my comment but didn’t say anything more. After he set it up, he positioned himself at the other side of the shop.

Moulin Rouge was one of my favorites, but Bing, Jane, and Caroline fit nicely on the sofa together. An addition to their party on the sofa would have been too crowded.

For more than half of the movie, however, Caroline talked over it, starting absurd discussions about the parts she didn’t agree with. Bing gently reminded her more than once to enjoy it regardless.

For example, she’d say, “I’d prefer it without so much music.”

And then Bing would reply, “Then it wouldn’t be a musical.”

Will, ignoring all the rest of us, fished out his earbuds and listened to music on his phone. When the battery wore down, he plugged it in, because of course, he came prepared like the Mary Poppins Boy Scout he was. I also noticed he went into the adjacent bathroom to brush his teeth more than once. Not two seconds after he emerged from the bathroom the last time, Caroline accosted him so he could settle a disagreement between herself and Bing.

“What profession has better job security?” she bellowed at Will. “Film acting or theatre?”

“Neither one is a secure industry to pursue,” he said without any emotion. “If you want security, stay out of show business.”

“Yes, we know that,” she said. “But between the two, which do you prefer?”

“I make my living in film. You know that.”

“Well, I’d like to do both,” said Bing with vigor. “If I could, I’d film on location by day and perform on stage by night. I wouldn’t be able to decide between the two.”

I giggled at his wide-eyed optimism. He was quite adorable. “I can totally tell that about you,” I said lightheartedly.

“Really?” he asked. “Am I that transparent?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “I’m just a good judge of character.”

“Oh?” he said with interest. “And what’s your diagnosis, doctor?”

“It just shows you’re diverse in your interests and can adjust to any situation.”

“The theatre,” interjected Will, “is a great way to exercise your craft, but it doesn’t compare to film when it comes to monetary concerns. A performance in the theatre is fleeting, but once recorded on film, there’s no telling how much you can make in royalties for years to come.”

“I think the takeaway here,” I said to Bing, “is to do what makes you happy.”

“You have to admit,” Will retorted, “that a career in theatre is limited in its longevity. There are less and less roles as you age. Not so with film. Especially for men.”

Jane, who had been silent for much of the evening, smiled at Bing and said, “It doesn’t hurt to have the right people in your court, either.”

Will narrowed his eyes at her.

“All I know,” said Bing after some thought, “is that when I’m in the theatre, there’s no place I’d rather be. But when I’m on a movie set, I feel the same kind of magic.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” I nodded in agreement.

Caroline, who must have felt left out of a conversation that she herself had started, stood from the sofa, stretched a little too provocatively in front of Will, and, pulling me from my seat, said, “Come on, Beth. I’m so sick of sitting on my butt. Let me show you some of my favorite yoga poses. It’s so good for the muffin top.”

I had little choice other than to follow her lead, muffin top remark notwithstanding. I figured I could do for a little bit of stretching anyway. We took the only available space for such an exercise and faced away from everybody. I noticed Will usurped my comfortable chair almost immediately after I quit it.

“Don’t forget to breathe, Eliza,” mewed Caroline while we were in downward dog. Where did she get off calling me Eliza?

“Doesn’t this feel soooo good?”

“Yeah,” I huffed. “Sure does.”

She turned her head slightly to look behind us while her rear end wiggled toward the ceiling. “Come join us, Will?”

Oh no, please no. I’d rather lock myself in the bathroom a la Michael in Be More Chill. I’d lock myself in there, and everybody else would have to hold their pee the rest of the weekend.

I could hear an appreciative groan come from Will’s vicinity.

“The view is just fine from here, thank you,” he said unabashedly.

I shot up immediately, and Caroline, a little slower to respond, also straightened her body to stand, but it was more like a bend and snap maneuver.

“Oh my goodness!” she squeaked. “Shame on you!”

She placed her hands on her hips, feigning offense at his confession of ogling