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

only is it an arts program, but we also offer full scholarships and career advancement. The students don’t have to pursue the arts if they don’t want to. We use theatre as a springboard into all areas of study. Theatre is a dynamic discipline. It’s not just for us drama llamas.”

I giggled. I was feeling a buzz from the alcohol, but Stella’s dry British delivery made everything she said sound humorous or poignant. Sometimes both at the same time.

Stella smiled wistfully and took a sip of her science experiment. “But if the students in our workshops want to be a doctor or computer engineer, our scholarships will still give them a full ride. We just want them to be successful.”

This was why I admired this woman. Yes, she was the best actor in my acquaintance, she’d won awards too numerous to count, but it was her philanthropy that set her apart from her peers.

“How many scholarships does your foundation award each year?”

“At first, it was only one. Now, we’re able to sponsor three graduates from our youth program. I’m hoping to raise enough money this year to send five students to college.”

“That’s incredible.”

“Who knows? Maybe in future years, we can sponsor ten or twenty. Or thirty!”

“That should be something.”

“It would. Of course, there are some graduates who go straight into auditioning. We don’t always recommend it, but if the actor is ready, we’ll help them get headshots or an agent or whatever else they need and send them off. And we put in a good word wherever they go—casting directors seem to respect that. I get calls all the time. So I would have extended the same for Jane. Not like she needs my help at all.”

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” I said with a smile.

Stella agreed with an enthusiastic nod. “That she is. And so are you, my dear.”

“Me? Nah.”

“Now don’t give me false modesty. I can always tell the ones who are going to make it. And you’re one of them.”

“I… I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a tipsy smile. “Don’t let it go to your head. It’s still a very steep, uphill climb. There’s nothing worse than when a talented person gets lazy. I just want to slap them and say, Hey, you could be so much more if you’d only do the work to get there.”

“I will do my best to avoid a slapping.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that drink,” I said, abandoning my wine cooler on a table.

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “You’re going to love it.”

I could tell the novelty of mixing cocktails was an entertainment to her. She accented her every movement with a flourish as she poured the mixers and added the condiments.

“By the way,” she said, “I would love for you to attend my charity event as my plus one.” She splashed a piece of dry ice in the glass with a flourish. “It’s a carnival theme this year. The festivities last all day, and you’ll get to meet some of our recipients. One of our former students, Francesca, just graduated from NYU. She’s coming to present the fellowship awards this year. You would get along swimmingly.” She handed me the smoking cocktail. “What sayeth thou?”

“Are you kidding?” I screeched loud enough to turn a few heads. Every who’s who in Whoville attended that event. Visions of myself brushing shoulders with A-list celebrities and powerful producers danced in my head. Even if it was a carnival. I may not have been interested in working in film, but I’d be crazy to pass that up. “I sayeth yes.”

“Good.” She clinked her glass with mine. “Now we better get that friend of yours out of the pool before she recreates the love scene from Shape of Water.”

17

Twitterpated

Will

“What has gotten into you?”

Georgia threw a pillow at me, catching me off guard. I was so not engaged in the game we were playing. I was messing up royally, using up all my lives. My little sister didn’t like winning so easily. So, she threw the pillow. Hmmm. I guess that’s why it was called a throw pillow. I’d never thought of it like that before.

“Earth to Will,” she sing-songed. “I should have stayed in New York.”

“It’s cold in New York,” I said, propping the pillow under my arm. Much better.

“You’re letting me win,” she pouted. “You never let me win.”

“I’m just tired.”

“Tired from shopping all day for my Christmas present?”

“I’m not telling you what I got you, so quit trying to get it out of me.”

“A girl’s gotta try.”

“Or you can wait ‘til Christmas like normal people.”

I loved my little sister, but her low tolerance for surprises was irritating. One year she unwrapped all her presents when no one was looking. Then she re-wrapped them and pretended to be surprised on Christmas morning. She didn’t fool anyone. Ever since then I had to hide all her gifts in creative places. Sometimes I got so creative even I forgot where I put them. It was exhausting.

“Are you tired from hiding my Christmas present?”

“Okay, do you really want to know?”

She perked up and jumped to sit on her feet. “Yes.”

“I could just give it to you now and save the suspense.”

“That’s probably one of your better ideas. Especially since you never found my present from three years ago.”

She’ll never let me live that down.

“Okay, I’m going to give it to you now. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to wait?”

“I’m sure, I’m sure.”

“All right. Here it is. This year, for your gift, I composed you a poem.”

Her face fell. I cleared my throat.

“Roses are red, violets aren’t blue. If you ask me about your present one more time…I will cover your mouth with glue.”

“You are a terrible poet. Don’t quit your day job.” She threw another pillow at me. This time I caught it as it came barreling toward my face.

“Thanks,” I said with a grin. “I needed one for the other arm.”

“Seriously though.