I've Got This Read online

  “It just seemed to fit at the time,” I venture cautiously, trying to judge his mood. He’s smiling, but in an industry of fake smiles and acting, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

  He laughs and claps me on the back. “Chill, dude. I thought it was awesome, definitely fit the show. I was just wondering because there’s an amateur theater group in town that could really use some help.”

  Oh. Well, that’s not what I expected.

  “I don’t know that I have time to take on another role,” I begin, but Parker’s already shaking his head.

  “Nothing like that. The cast is all amateurs, all locals—what they need is someone to consult on blocking and choreography. There are a bunch of us here from JU who volunteer, but now with so many people down for this week, it would be great if you could help out. Even if it’s just this week, if you don’t want to commit the whole time you’re here.”

  I hesitate. It sounds like a lot of fun, to be honest, and I do like noodling around with choreography and stage blocking. But do I want to build connections to the people here at Joy Universe?

  That sounds awful, doesn’t it? Like I don’t want to make friends. But friends are hard work, and I’ve always kept my circle small, confined to people I know I can depend on and who I don’t mind having depend on me.

  Parker notes my hesitation, and a touch of disappointment flashes in his gaze. “Hey, you’re busy. No worries. Just thought I’d ask.”

  He starts to turn away, and I blurt, “No, wait.” My sister always tells me that I have to seize opportunities and take chances. This is something different for me, even if it’s right up my alley. “I was just thinking about the logistics. Is it a daily commitment?”

  Parker grins. “Hell no! None of us could handle that. Right now it’s twice a week for an hour, for whoever can make it—obviously we all have different schedules here at the parks. As the show gets closer to opening, things get busier, but everyone is really understanding about what we professionals can commit. We’re really only there to offer advice and guidance—they do most of the work themselves.”

  I make up my mind. “That sounds great, Parker. I’m only here until the end of July, but I’d love to help out. Thanks for thinking of me.” I offer a hand to shake; I don’t know why—it just seems the thing to do.

  Parker shakes it heartily. “Great, that’s great! You’re going to have a blast—it’s so much fun, and everyone is super cool.”

  “Who’s super cool?”

  I close my eyes. Crap. I’ve only heard it once before, but believe me, I’d recognize that voice anywhere. It’s like summer sun on wine grapes—heady and sweet.

  When I open my eyes, Parker is giving me an odd look, but he quickly transfers his gaze—and a welcoming smile—to the person behind me.

  “Hi, Derek,” he says cheerfully. “We were just talking about the theater group in town.”

  Golden Boy comes up beside me. He has a friendly and interested expression on his face, and I can’t stop myself from wondering if he practices it in the mirror.

  Friendly, Trav. Friendly and polite. Or at least polite. At least I’m not on the verge of falling apart just from his presence, like this morning.

  “They do some great work,” Golden Boy is saying. “Are you interested in seeing a show? I don’t think there’s anything on at the moment—they’re in rehearsals for this summer’s season.”

  “Trav’s going to consult,” Parker tells him, and I want to kick him for sharing even the most trivial piece of information about me.

  Golden Boy is nodding. “Choreography, right? I saw that little extra thing you did. The crowd loved it.”

  He was watching the show? I smile weakly. “Thanks.” I should say something more—Parker’s looking at me strangely, as if he’s remembering my weirdness with Golden Boy this morning—so I add, “I’m surprised you know the show so well.”

  Oh hell. That came out completely wrong. What is wrong with me? When did I lose the ability to converse like a human being? I add quickly, “It speaks well of your dedication to your staff and the park.” I snap my mouth shut. Now I sound like a condescending, pompous ass. I can feel my cheeks getting hot, which means they must be fire engine red. I blush really easily, a nasty side effect of having fair skin.

  Parker and Golde— You know what, I need to start calling him Derek in my head. If I don’t, you can bet your ass I’m going to slip up and call him Golden Boy out loud. So Parker and Derek both have those annoying oh-how-sweet expressions people with nontranslucent skin get when they see me blush. I grit my teeth and suck in a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself, but unfortunately, annoyance is also one of the things that can set off a blush, so it’s unlikely the color’s going to fade anytime soon.

  Whatever.

  “Anyway,” I push on, determined to get the hell out of this hellish situation, “I need to grab a snack before the next show, and they’ll be expecting me back to fix my makeup soon. Parker, see you in a few. Derek”—yessss! Total win—“nice seeing you, and thank you again for this opportunity. It’s been fun.” I toss in a smile for good measure, inwardly congratulating myself, then without waiting for either of them to reply, I stroll as casually as I can manage toward the door. I am so close—literally just steps away—when someone comes up alongside me. I don’t even need to look to know who. His sun-god presence announces him.

  “Trav, can I walk with you?”

  I don’t think I could ever get used to the sound of his disembodied voice. At least when I’m looking at him, I can brace for it. No fair that he has a voice like that.

  “Sure,” I say, because it’s rude to say no, right? And I’m trying to make up for my shit-tacular scene this morning. We push through the back door and head toward the cafeteria. I watch Gol—Derek from the corner of my eye. He’s smiling and waving at people as we pass, like he’s royalty or something. Douche.

  Then I notice that he’s actually waving back. People are waving at him first. Shit. I made a snap judgment—a wrong one. Thank God I didn’t say anything out loud—that would have been a hard one to come back from, especially since I haven’t exactly been friendly so far.

  We’re nearly at the cafeteria, and he still hasn’t said anything to me. I have absolutely no idea why he wanted to walk with me. Does he eat at the cafeteria often? Why? I mean, the food’s not terrible, but it’s not brilliant either, especially compared to some of the other places here at JU. I can’t imagine wanting to come here if it wasn’t the closest, cheapest option—oh, and by the way, Dimi fixed things so those of us filling in eat for free at the cafeteria. I felt a little guilty about that at first, but not for too long. Even with the discounted dining plan that was set up for us while the show is running, food at Joy Universe is not cheap.

  Wait, if Dimi fixed it, does that mean Derek did?

  I open the door just as his phone rings. He makes a face. “I have to take that—too much has happened today to ignore it. I won’t be a second.” He waves me inside and pulls his phone from his pocket.

  I stand there, I’m sure with a stunned look on my face, as he answers the call and takes a few steps away. Is he… expecting to eat with me? Like does he think I want his company or something?

  Fuck.

  I scurry inside and over to the salad bar. Maybe if I scarf my food down quick—which I kind of have to do anyway, because time is flying by—I’ll be done before his call ends. It’s not like I can hang out and wait for him—I’ve gotta be back for makeup soon.

  I grab a salad and glance around. There are a bunch of people I met at rehearsals this morning sitting at a table in the corner. I decide to crash the party. Maybe if I look like I’m super busy with my new “friends”—even mentally I choke on the word—Derek won’t bother coming over.

  What the hell can he want from me, anyway?

  I stroll over to the corner and smile when two of the people there look up. “Hey. Mind if I sit here while I eat this at the speed of light?”r />
  That gets me a laugh, and a general reshuffle to free up a space at this end of the table. “Sit, enjoy what little time you have,” one of the women coaxes, patting the chair. I put my salad, which is not an exciting one, if you were wondering, on the table and plant myself, making eye contact and murmuring a greeting as I pick up my fork. The conversation continues around me as I begin wolfing down leaves and vegetables. Eating that fast is probably going to give me indigestion, even if it isn’t heavy food.

  I’m about halfway through when one of my tablemates waves and smiles at someone across the room. “Hey, it’s Derek. Do you think he knows what’s going on with everyone else?”

  One of the guys—Steve? Sam? Pretty sure it was an S name—shrugs. “Dunno, but we should ask him.” He waves, too, and calls out. “Derek!”

  Are you fucking kidding me? Seriously? This has to be some kind of giant cosmic joke, right? Like, these people remember the idiot I made of myself this morning, and have decided to play a practical joke on me… right?

  Except they’re all smiling and looking expectantly behind me, and dammit, I can feel him getting closer.

  What’s with that, anyway?

  “Hey, everyone,” that voice says, and even though this time I was kind of expecting it, it still affects something deep inside me. It’s not fair that he even has a great voice. I shove some veggies into my mouth so I won’t have to join the chorus of greetings.

  “Have a seat, Derek,” the woman beside me—Karen? Katie? Damn, I suck at names—insists, and then she shifts down, leaving the seat empty.

  So of course Derek sits in it.

  Next to me.

  Where I can’t avoid him.

  I eat more lettuce. In fact, I concentrate so hard on that lettuce that I miss whatever question they ask him.

  I don’t miss his answer, though, because he’s saying it in his stupid great voice.

  “Mostly everyone is going to be fine. Five people are currently in the hospital, but only for IV fluids. There are no other health issues. We sent the EMTs around to everyone’s house to make sure there weren’t problems, and a lot of people are already starting to feel better. Well, the vomiting has stopped, anyway.”

  Oh, right, the sick performers. I make appropriately sympathetic noises (I am sympathetic, by the way, because being sick totally sucks. I just sound like a spoiled, whiny preteen diva) and open my mouth wide to fit the last of my salad. Done. That’s it, baby, I’m outta here.

  I shove back from the table, plate in hand, flash a bright grin, and declare, “Thanks for letting me join you, folks!” Folks? Oh my God, what the hell? “Gotta get back for the last show. See you all tomorrow?” I aim the smile around the table. Maybe it doesn’t quite make it to Derek, but that’s only because tilting my neck that way would be awkward. I swear, it would!

  And then I’m gone. I pause only long enough to leave my plate at the bussing station, and I’m out the door, walking as fast as I can manage without looking like I’m running away.

  Because that would be rude.

  THE LAST show of the day is over before I know it, and I’m glad. Sure, it’s relatively easy work, but it’s been a long day, and tomorrow will be even longer, because in addition to the five performances during the day before the agency dancers take over from the five o’clock show onwards, I’ll be back to my “day” job tomorrow night.

  I don’t regret this, though. It’ll be a tough week with no day off, but this has been fun, and a great experience. And, hey, now I’m going to be consulting on amateur theater. Stepping outside my box, and all that shit. My sister will be so proud.

  “Trav,” someone says just as I finish cleaning off my makeup. I look up to find Parker standing beside me with S-guy from the cafeteria.

  “Hey.” I stand and run a hand over my hair. I wear it pretty short, but it’s still kind of manky from the modified helmet I’ve been wearing today—space pirates, remember? I make a slight face at S-guy. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t remember if it’s”—crap, gotta pick some S names—“Steve or Seth.”

  He grins. “It’s Sam, actually.”

  Well, fuck. I grimace. Wasn’t I thinking it was Sam, in the cafeteria? “I’m sorry,” I start, but he just laughs.

  “Don’t worry about it. There are a lot of us here, and we can’t expect you to remember all our names.”

  “Right.” I give him a relieved smile. “You’re all done for the day?”

  Parker claps him on the shoulder. “Sam was doing impromptus today. Those finish up before we do—I’m actually not sure why. Marketing probably has a reason. Anyway, I was just telling Sam that you’re going to give Joyville Amateur Theater a hand this season.”

  I turn my attention back to Sam. “You’re involved too?”

  He nods. “Yep. There’s about half a dozen of us performers, plus two of the crew, a set designer, and Laura from costumes. You might have met her, actually, because she was supervising the fittings here this morning.”

  Ah yes, my gossipy new BFF. “Sure, I met Laura. She seems really cool.” That gets me instant approval, I note—clearly Laura is a favorite. Note to self, be extra nice to Laura.

  “Anyway,” Sam goes on, “I was just kind of curious…. You seemed in a bit of a rush to get away when Derek joined us at dinner, and then there was this morning….” He trails off, and I inwardly groan. That’s my cue.

  I wrinkle my nose. “You mean this morning when I made a complete ass of myself?” I ask self-deprecatingly.

  “Yeah, then,” Parker deadpans. Right, they both seem to be on my side—or at least not against me—but who knows how long that will last? Don’t be an ass about Golden Boy, and you won’t have any problems.

  Derek. I meant Derek.

  I sigh. “I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t mean to sound like an ass. The words were all normal in my head, but they came out all wrong.” I tilt my head and pretend to consider it. “It was the tone, I think? But I didn’t mean to sound that way.” It’s kind of true. I felt that way, but I didn’t mean for anyone else to know.

  They exchange glances. “Yeah, but it kind of seemed like you had something against him,” Sam ventures. “And that’s weird. Because, dude, Derek’s like the best AD in this place. Rotating through Planet Joy is the highlight of my year. Sure, he’s tough and, man, does he expect us all to work hard, but if you meet the targets, he always pays the quarterly bonuses in the top percentile. And he gives other bonuses, too—if the park has a great day, everyone gets rewarded.”

  “And he actually comes out here to talk to us,” Parker adds. “At least three times a week we see him walking around the park. Sometimes it’s all official and he’ll have Dimi and Don—that’s the park manager—with him, and other times you gotta look twice to realize it’s even him, ’cause he’s got a hot dog in one hand and he’s standing in line for one of the rides.”

  He must see the surprise on my face. “Oh, he doesn’t actually ride them,” he assures me. “He just likes to stand in line and see what the guests are saying, and how long it takes—and if there are new people on shift who might not recognize him, he watches how they’re interacting with the guests. I don’t know if he knows we know he does it, though.”

  I follow that sentence to the end—barely—then shake my head. “Look, I don’t even know Derek. I will admit that something about him pushes my buttons all wrong, but it’s not him personally, because I’ve barely even spoken to him—and when I did he was completely professional, even though I probably didn’t deserve it. I have to admire that about him.” I manage not to choke on the words, because it’s true that he was professional in the face of my almost-rudeness this morning. The guys don’t need to know that part of me doesn’t think it was genuine.

  Although it could have been. I need to start being fair. Nobody’s had anything bad to say about this guy, so maybe he’s the genuine article. He’s probably not like the guys who used to bully me, even if he does remind me of them. Maybe he�
��s really… perfect.

  No, that can’t be right. Nobody’s perfect. The guy’s got flaws, no matter how well he keeps them hidden.

  Truthfully, I don’t think I care enough to find out what they are. Even if he’s a genuinely great guy, that perfect sun god façade drives me insane. I like my guys with their flaws right out in the open—as evidenced by my most recent ex-boyfriend—not hidden by an exterior that requires worship.

  It’s all moot, anyway, since I’m not likely to run into him again.

  I smile determinedly at Parker and Sam, who seem to have bought my whole I-don’t-hate-Derek spiel. “So, tell me about this amateur theater. When and where?”

  “Right now, Saturday morning at nine and Wednesday evening at seven at the community center in town,” Sam tells me. I bite my lip.

  “I can do Saturday, as long as I’m back by twelve thirty for the matinee show. Wednesday night, no way.” Is that going to affect whether they want me? I’m surprised to find I’m actually disappointed at the thought of not consulting. Huh.

  But Sam shrugs, and Parker shakes his head. “That’s fine, Trav. We all come and go depending on our schedules here.”

  “They’ll be adding another day in a few weeks,” Sam puts in. “It doesn’t matter to us which day, since we all rotate through a seven-day schedule, but if you have a preference, you should mention it.”

  I feel kind of bad about being so unsocial with new people all my life. Are people always this nice when you put yourself out there? Is this what my sister has been talking about for so long?

  Then I remember some of the dickheads I’ve had to deal with and shunt that idea aside. Maybe some people are nice and welcoming, but you can never be sure who they’ll be.

  But these guys are being super nice, so it’s worth making an effort to be nice back. “Monday is good for me,” I volunteer. “We always have Monday off. Or mornings—even if we have a matinee, I’m usually not needed until lunchtime. But I bet most everyone works during the day, right?”