The Good-Show Gift

Excerpt

Jessica swiped the triangular sponge across her cheeks to remove her thick stage makeup. After four years as a theater major, the act of returning to herself after a successful show gave her the same bittersweet feeling. This time she was especially nostalgic, having completed her final main stage play.

She was one of many students who had very nearly completed all her course work midyear and would walk the stage in December, one month from now. Though she'd graced a number of Texas stages since she'd been a child, the graduation stage still held great mystery and awe. She wouldn't move to LA right away, but maybe by the summer; she'd continue living with her roommate for a little while, working tables at Golden Corral, until she'd saved up enough money to pursue her dream.

Her cell phone rang, the muffled techno song she'd programmed vibrating her purse. She reached down and pulled her black leather bag away from her leg and onto the metal table that ran along the wall beneath a row of long, brightly lit mirrors. After finding the phone, she saw it was Rick and smiled.

"Hey," she said into the receiver, leaning closer to the mirror to sweep the caked makeup from under her eyes.

"Hey, bitch!" Rick said, his flamboyant voice always fun to hear.

"Hey yourself. What's up?"

"Where the hell are you? The after-party has started, baby!"

The loud pop music in the background pulsed through the phone, and two cackling laughs from some random girls made Jessica hold the phone away from her ear. She smiled, shaking her head.

"I'm just taking my time," she said, wiping the lines of fake age away from the sides of her mouth. "This was my last play, you know. I don't have another year like you."

"Oh, girl, please don't tell me you're up there crying, feeling sorry for yourself."

Jessica laughed. "No, I'm fine. I just wanted to do this alone, you know? Like a closing ritual or something."

"Well, I'm about to participate in some ritualistic drinking, if you know what I mean. Hurry your ass up!"

"I am! Calm down. Jeez."

"You did great tonight, by the way. Positively stunning as Lady Macbeth. I still have chills. People would've never known you are only five feet tall up there with your presence. You positively towered!"

"Well, thank you. The heels helped. And you were an excellent Banquo, by the way."

"I know. I'm pretty much excellent in everything I do. Ooo." He cleared his throat. "Did you ever figure out who gave you those roses?"

"Actually, no."

Her gaze drifted to the end of the table, where the smoky glass vase filled with the gorgeous arrangement of the red flowers sat. She'd found the gift waiting for her when she first entered the dressing room. All the other girls were in a frenzy, trying to figure out who'd sent them. The little white card had been addressed to her, and inside it simply read:

To Jessica: Break a leg. From: A Fan.

Whoever it was had to be familiar enough with theater lingo to know that "break a leg" was the luckiest thing a person could say to an actor. Sentiments like "good luck" were sure to doom a performance. So this person, he or she, probably came to watch plays often.

"You know," Rick said, his voice lifting musically, "I saw your guy out there tonight."

"Yeah, I know. I saw him too."

"No, I mean after the show."

"Really? He didn't disappear as usual?"

"Nope. He was just sitting out there in his seat, all alone. Mr. Fine." He sighed. "Mr. Mystery Fine."

"You're kidding, right?" Jessica's heart skipped a beat. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I was on my damn phone, ruining the moment, kinda like I am now. God, who knows how many dates I've given up in the last few minutes since I started talking to your nostalgic ass!"

"Seriously, though, you saw him out there alone? Like he could actually still be out there right now?"

"Yes—hang on, I got another call."

The thumping music went mute as he switched over to the other line. Jessica eyed the flowers. Could they have been from him?