by Shayla Black
Reid
Hazel was my nun. My Sister Mary Hartford. It was one of the best auditions I’d ever seen—and not just from a student. In my professional career, I’d never seen an actress pick up the choreography so fast, sing so beautifully, or nail a character’s intention in a reading without having read the entire script.
Her audition was flawless. When I showed the audition tapes to Clay, the writer of the show, he completely agreed. Why in the hell had she wasted so much time dancing burlesque? I didn’t believe it was a shameful thing…it wasn’t. But she didn’t seem to have any delusions of grandeur about it either. She didn’t seem to be fulfilled by it… If anything, she seemed defeated.
I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. It wouldn’t be fair to her or me, but frankly? If this went well and Clay and our eventual producers agreed, we might have found our lead for the show. Not just for the workshop but when we hit the stage.
I leaned back in my office chair that creaked with the movement and stared at the cast list Clay and I had created from the student auditions. It had taken us almost a week, but I was really happy with it. And pretty damn proud of my students. Hazel wasn’t the only really talented person to audition. That little undergrad program had some pretty fantastic performers. Not all of them, no. But many of them. And the others? I had no doubt that they had amazing skills to be utilized elsewhere.
The stack of mail and papers in the inbox on top of my desk caught my eye, and I reached for them, flipping through a bundle of envelopes. Most were flyers for events the university was hosting. But a bright red flyer caught my eye. A new bar around the corner had just opened and was offering faculty discounts on drinks.
I sighed, my eyes drifting back to the cast list on my laptop. I could use a drink after the last two weeks. Auditions were always stressful…add onto that how badly I wanted Hazel? Twice…no, triple the stress.
I pulled up the classroom chat board, my fingers hovering over where I was supposed to post. God, I wished I could see her face as she read this. I wished I could be there to see her expression when she realized she got the lead.
I’d been warned by a couple of friends who taught that as soon as the cast list went live, I should step away from my laptop and not answer any correspondence from students. They said I would receive all kinds of emails ranging from anger to bribes to gleeful thank-yous.
Secretly, I’d wanted Hazel’s audition to be bad. I’d wanted her to be terrible at this so that maybe, just maybe, these intense feelings I had for her would subside. It would have been so much easier if she were talentless.
But I should have known better. Of course she was going to be phenomenal.
I inhaled a deep breath and hit the post button. Then, standing, I grabbed my wallet and keys, sliding them into my pocket. I needed a drink. I needed to get out of this classroom.
I closed the door behind me, glancing down at my phone and debating turning it off. I didn’t want to turn it off. If I was being honest, there was one person I was really hoping to hear from. The one person I shouldn’t want to hear from. The one person I couldn’t get out of my mind for two weeks. And the one person I should definitely stay far away from.
Hazel
Rosa and I sat on our stools at the corner of the new bar. She was flipping through the wine list and pointed to a bottle of red that I had never heard of. I looked over her shoulder, inhaling a sharp breath when I saw the price. Okay, maybe fifty-five dollars wasn’t expensive for some people, but for me? That was a lot of money. Even with the faculty discount the bar was offering.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “Tonight’s on me.”
I shook my head. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine,” I said, hoping that in my tipsy state, I sounded somewhat believable.
She leveled me with a look. “Girl, who do you think you’re kidding? I saw all those empty containers of ramen and mac and cheese when I dragged you out of your apartment tonight.”
I put my finger in the air. “Excuse me, even if I was a millionaire, I would still eat mac and cheese because it’s the most delicious food ever.” I moved that finger into her face. “Fight me.”
She lifted a brow. “And the ramen?”
I grinned, draining what was left in my wineglass from our first (much cheaper) bottle I had picked. “Yeah. I got nothing for the ramen. Except that I can’t wait until I can afford to go out and order fancy ramen.” My hand landed on my stomach as I smirked. Ramen was delicious too…just not the cup of noodle ramen I choked down several times a week.
Rosa pushed the menu aside as the bartender brought over the bottle of Malbec, showing her the label before opening it and pouring a taste.
Once she took a sip and gave her nod of approval, he poured us each a full glass, leaving us once more to attend to the other people waiting for their drinks.
“Did I tell you how he touched my hip at the audition last week?” I leaned into her as my words slurred a bit. I didn’t intend on getting tipsy tonight. I just wanted a couple glasses of wine to take the edge off. It had been a week since our auditions. A freaking week. He said it might take him a while because he had to consult with the playwright, but a week felt excessive. And with Rosa, a couple glasses of wine turned into a couple bottles. Oops.
“Mmhmm,” Rosa said, taking a sip. She was much better at holding her alcohol than I was.
“Damn. I’m repeating myself a lot, aren’t I?”
“Mmhmm,” she repeated. “But only about him.”
I didn’t want to repeat myself about him. I didn’t even want to think about him. But even without that intense moment before the audition, I was reeling. Now? I was free-falling. “It’s just…I’ve never had a connection with someone like I had with him that night at the club.” I gestured with my hand holding the wineglass, and as I did, a little bit of burgundy liquid sloshed over the side, landing on the marble bar top.
Rosa smiled. “I heard some of the other professors talking about how sexy he is. His sex appeal is spreading throughout the school, even over to the psychology department.”
Instead of bothering to grab a napkin to mop up my spill, I ran my sleeve over the drop of wine, mopping it up with my ratty long-sleeved T-shirt. Oh, drunken logic. The things we thought were good ideas when tipsy…
“More importantly,” Rosa said, “how do you think the audition went?”
I shrugged, but my lips tipped into a smile. “I think it went well. He read me for the nun a couple times and once as a prostitute.” In actuality, I felt like I’d nailed the audition. My song had gone flawlessly and I felt like I had a really strong hold of the nun’s character in the reading and brought a unique reading that the other students didn’t bring to her. But I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I’d had countless auditions in my life that I’d thought I nailed, only to end up disappointed when the petite blonde (i.e. Jenna) got the part instead of me.
“Any ideas when the cast list will post?”
I shook my head and swiped my thumb across the red stain my lips left on the edge of the glass. “In class today, he said he would try to have it up by tomorrow at the latest. Hell, for all I know, he’s already posted it.”
Rosa’s eyes went wide. “Then let’s check!” she squealed.
I shook my head. “No way. I’ve been glued to that chat room every night, waiting to see the list. I’m done. Tonight is a good night and I don’t want to ruin it.” I held my wineglass up, waiting for her to clink the edge of her glass to mine. Rosa lifted her glass, but didn’t tap it against mine.
“Or,” Rosa said, tugging her glass back into her chest, “it’ll be great news and we can continue celebrating.” She wiggled her brows. Ever the voice of reason, she was.
I snorted. “My luck isn’t that good.” But it was nice of her to believe in me. At least one of us did.
“Okay,” she said, reaching into my purse, pulling out my phone, and setting it between us. “But if you change your mind, I’ll leave this right here
.”
I groaned as I sipped my wine, the glass amplifying the sound like I was in an echo chamber. “Not likely to happen. But thank you for being you.”
She smiled and repeated our mantra back to me. “Thank you for being you.” We’d said this to each other at least once a week since we became best friends when we both moved here five years ago. I thanked God daily for the Craigslist ad that had allowed us to become roommates for two years. Her eyes drifted over my shoulder, landing briefly behind me. If I had to guess, she was flirting. Rosa was good at flirting. Unlike me…the professional who had burned out on it, having to do it four times a week on stage.
“You know what you need?” she said, smiling.
I grinned back at her wicked expression. “I don’t know, but I’m guessing you’re going to tell me.”
“You need to meet a man who will take your mind off the professor. What do you call him?”
“Ah. Professor Cockhead. He’s even in my phone as that.” I flipped my phone over on the counter and pulled it up to show her.
She snorted a laugh. “Well, don’t look now, but there’s a guy who entered a few minutes ago and he’s been staring at you nonstop.”
I lifted a brow at her. Normally, on a night like this, flirting would be the furthest thing from my mind. But now? Maybe Rosa was right. Every night since I met Reid, I’d been falling asleep to thoughts of him. Touching myself, remembering the feel of his fingers on me, his lips, his tongue. I shivered, clenching my thighs together as my sex squeezed with the memory. Maybe I needed the feel of another person’s touch to wash my slate clean. Rinse him from these visceral fantasies.
“Where is he?” I whispered.
She cleared her throat, covering her mouth with her wineglass as she whispered, “He’s over your shoulder at my one o’clock.”
Setting my wineglass down, I put a sexy smirk on, despite the fact that I was in jean cutoffs and a long-sleeved T-shirt. I stroked my fingers to my neck, looking over my shoulder in what I hoped was a covert way to make eye contact.
Malachite eyes met mine and I felt my mouth go dry when I saw Professor Bradley resting his weight on his elbows at the bar. And he was staring right at me.
His gaze swept down my body, the corners of his mouth twitching in that sexy way he did when he was trying not to smile. The smile dropped as he cleared his throat and quickly looked around the bar…probably checking to make sure we didn’t recognize anyone else from the program.
He pushed off the bar and crossed around some people sitting at the bar to the stool next to me. “I thought it was you,” he said quietly. “How are you?”
I swallowed as the knot in my stomach doubled in size. “I-I’m fine.”
“You two know each other?” Rosa asked. I nodded.
It was the first time I’d seen him anywhere other than class since…well, since we’d been in the Champagne Room. The blood rushed in my ears and my breath sped up in heavy pants. He was more casual than when he was when teaching. Instead of his usual button-down shirt and dress pants, he was in a light blue polo shirt and charcoal-gray jeans that hugged the thick muscles of his powerful thighs.
We sat there staring at each other in silence for several seconds before I felt Rosa lean forward, extending a hand. “I’m Rosa. Hazel’s best friend.”
His gaze dipped, head tilted curiously before he slowly looked up at me…then to Rosa, taking her hand. “Nice to meet you, Rosa… I’m Professor Cockhead, apparently.”
My face went searing hot and I felt a sharp breath lodge in my throat. How did he know that? Oh, shit. No. No, no, no. I glanced down where my phone was face up, his contact info and number illuminated in front of us. “Oh my God.” I dropped my hand down over the phone, covering it even though it was too late.
Rosa’s gasp morphed into a snicker. “Ohhh. So, you’re Professor Cockhead,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I don’t even want to take a guess as to what you’ve heard,” he said. Though to most people it would sound like a joke, I knew better. The bartender came by with a tumbler of whiskey, delivering it to Reid.
There was another uncomfortably long pause and Rosa shifted, tugging her phone from her pocket. With a gasp, she stood and threw four twenty-dollar bills onto the bar. “Oh my gosh, I just realized I have a study group in ten minutes,” she said, grabbing her purse and slinging it over her shoulder.
I snapped my head in her direction, glaring at her. “Funny,” I said through gritted teeth. “You didn’t mention that earlier.”
She shrugged. “I totally forgot about it until now. But we just ordered this bottle of wine. You two should stay and drink it. Be a shame for it to go to waste.”
“A crying shame,” I repeated, glaring at my best friend, which she ignored like a pro, running out of the bar.
I sighed, looking at Reid. “You don’t need to stay,” I said, grabbing the cash she had tossed down and pulling it closer to me so no one would grab it while walking by. “I’m sure this is against some sort of school bylaw.”
He huffed a humorless laugh, swirling his whiskey. “Probably. But it’s not like we arranged this. We’re both employees of the school and I assume you saw the flyer about the faculty discount too?”
I nodded. “Guilty.”
He gestured to the bartender for another wineglass. “Then…since this is innocent, just two people who ran into each other outside of class, is there really any harm?”
Yes, I wanted to scream. I didn’t think Professor Dercy would see it his way if she walked in right now. This was a terrible idea. I could tick off all the reasons why, the main one being that we could both lose our jobs. And he could ruin his reputation. I opened my mouth to tell him no. To remind him of all the reasons we couldn’t sit here drinking together. But my heart—my stupid heart—betrayed me as I answered, “No, no harm,” with my traitorous mouth.
8
Reid
“What date did Fiddler on the Roof open?” I asked her, splitting the last of the wine between our two glasses.
“September 22, 1964,” she answered with a smug grin. She barely got the date out between those petal-pink lips before she was drinking again. “It held the record for the longest-running Broadway musical until Grease surpassed its ten-year run.”
“Okay, that was too easy,” I said, racking my brain for a harder one. “Blood Brothers,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her.
She rolled hers in response. “That’s supposed to be harder? Come on. It opened April 25, 1993, and closed after 840 performances on April 30, 1995. But its debut performance was in Liverpool in 1981. I told you, I’m like a human encyclopedia when it comes to Broadway dates and facts.”
Something in my stomach twisted and bobbed in my brain. I’d been looking at her transcripts and was shocked to find that she had failed last semester’s History of Theater course with none other than Tony. “Can I ask you something? Something I maybe shouldn’t?”
She jerked her gaze to mine, dark blue eyes bright and curious. “Okay…against my better judgment, sure.”
“How can you know so much and remember all this information, yet fail your History of Theater class last semester?”
Instantly, her body language shifted. She shrugged, tugging her sleeves over her hands, slumping into her seat. “I fell asleep in class and missed my oral exam. Having a near eidetic memory doesn’t help when you’re exhausted from your night job.”
I shook my head. Yeah, that would do it. But I also knew Tony…and he wasn’t exactly a stickler for rules. “I find it hard to believe that Professor Lewis wouldn’t allow you a makeup exam. Even for a letter grade off or something.”
With tight lips, she blew a breath out, leaning forward onto her elbows and circling the tip of her finger against the edge of her wineglass. “Oh, he would have allowed me to make up the grade,” she snorted. “So long as I spread my legs for him.”
My spine went rigid. “What?” I hissed.
Her hea
d snapped to me, eyes wide and panicked. “Oh, fuck. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Is it true?”
She swallowed, averting her gaze from mine. I caught her chin, dragging those deep blue eyes back to look at me once more. “Hazel,” I said. “Is it true?”
“Yeah,” she whispered.
I inhaled so sharply that my lungs physically hurt. “Did you tell anyone?” She shook her head. “Hazel,” I whispered, “you have to tell Laura Dercy—”
“No. I can’t. And you can’t either. Please,” she begged, tears filling her eyes.
Fuck. I hated seeing her like this. I hated Tony. I hated him more now than I ever had for marrying Faith. This was deplorable. Inexcusable. “Okay,” I said, knowing not to push her.
She breathed a sigh of relief, nuzzling into my hand that still cupped her jaw. “Can I ask why you don’t want to tell anyone?”
“It’s pointless,” she said. “He’s no longer teaching at the school, so what does it even matter? And it wouldn’t change the fact that I slept through my exam. I still failed.” She paused, swirling her wine within the large glass. “But sometimes I wonder how many other students he’s propositioned like that.”
She shivered and I pulled my hand back, feeling suddenly terrible for sitting here with her, drinking. It didn’t feel wrong…but it was wrong. Maybe I was no better than Tony. “Will you at least consider telling Professor Dercy at some point? Just so they can prevent it from happening in the future?”
Hazel nodded, flitting a glance at me and attempting a sad smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was tragic yet didn’t make her any less beautiful. “You know, it was his wife who told me to maybe try my hand at directing.”
My rage went white hot. “She told you that?” I knew Faith really well. I knew her better than she knew herself. And if I had to guess, she saw something in Hazel. The same incredible raw talent and potential that I saw. And she was threatened by it.