production on Broadway next month. Felicity will continue to be my assistant.”
“I’m sure she’ll give you a lot of. . .help.”
“What happened to your forehead?” Ian asked.
“Remains of my lobotomy. Now why are you two in In Between? And more importantly, what time does your flight leave?”
The door behind us opened and out came Frances. “Got my card.” She extended her perky smile to the two interlopers. “Hi.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Frances. Friends of Katie’s?”
“No,” I said.
“Yes.” Ian slowly shook Frances’s hand, and I could see his charm already reaching out like invisible tentacles. Nobody was immune.
“This is Ian.” His name tasted like a bitter berry on my tongue. “My ex-boyfriend. And this is his. . .his. . .”
“This is Felicity.”
Frances’s mouth hung in a small oval. “I don’t think I understand.”
“Kind of defies logic,” I said, my narrowed eyes on Ian.
“Your grandmother asked me to help your town,” he said. “Theater preservation is a passion of mine.”
“Are you seriously trying to tell me you flew all this way for that?”
Felicity wrapped her hand around Ian’s bicep. “He didn’t fly here for you, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Ian put a halting hand on my shoulder before I could wrap my fingers around Felicity’s throat. Or at least get in a good hair yank.
“You clearly have some strong feelings, Katie,” Ian said. “One could only expect that. Things didn’t end well, and I know I hurt you deeply.”
“A mere paper cut.”
He looked at me with such pity in his eyes, like I was three steps away from throwing my sad self off the nearest bridge. “No matter your anger,” he said. “I have a job to do here, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
“What job? Seducing the skirt off every woman in town?”
He laughed, a throaty sound that had once all but made me float on air, but now made me want to claw his face with my nails. “Your grandmother needs help saving your theater, and I can be of use. I have many connections, and we can create a PR storm the likes those Thrifty folks have never seen.”
“And what’s in it for you?”
“You screaming across the stage as you tackled him during the intermission of your last show.” Felicity put a bracing arm around her dear Ian. “Does that ring a bell?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “I envision his black eye every night as I say my prayers and give thanks to the Almighty.”
Ian sighed. “It’s just like you to act so irrationally without any thought to anyone else.”
“Were you thinking of anyone else when you had your hands all over your assistant during the show? You couldn’t even wait ’til it was over? Until we were all gone?” The curtain had just gone down for intermission, and I had ran back to Ian’s office to tell him that a major critic was in the fourth row and found him and his perky, skinny, skanky assistant entwined on his desk. Had I walked in just a few minutes later, I would’ve seen something straight out of a Rated R movie.
“You humiliated me,” Ian said. “That critic absolutely crucified us all in her review.”
“You probably dated her once too.”
“If you can’t keep your personal life off the stage—quite literally—then you are not cut out to be an actress.”
It was a rusty scalpel to my heart, and Ian knew how to twist it until it hit a critical vein. There were lots of reasons I wasn’t stage material. And we both recognized it.
“Katie is a brilliant actress,” Frances said.
Ian merely smiled.
“This has been such a refreshing conversation,” I said. “I love how you still spin the tale and cast me as the evil villain. And now that I’ve heard it— again —you can leave. We don’t need your help. The very idea that you could save my town is just laughable. We’d have more luck shining a bat spotlight into the sky.”
“I already have press lined up,” Ian said. “A writer from
“I’m sure she’ll give you a lot of. . .help.”
“What happened to your forehead?” Ian asked.
“Remains of my lobotomy. Now why are you two in In Between? And more importantly, what time does your flight leave?”
The door behind us opened and out came Frances. “Got my card.” She extended her perky smile to the two interlopers. “Hi.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Frances. Friends of Katie’s?”
“No,” I said.
“Yes.” Ian slowly shook Frances’s hand, and I could see his charm already reaching out like invisible tentacles. Nobody was immune.
“This is Ian.” His name tasted like a bitter berry on my tongue. “My ex-boyfriend. And this is his. . .his. . .”
“This is Felicity.”
Frances’s mouth hung in a small oval. “I don’t think I understand.”
“Kind of defies logic,” I said, my narrowed eyes on Ian.
“Your grandmother asked me to help your town,” he said. “Theater preservation is a passion of mine.”
“Are you seriously trying to tell me you flew all this way for that?”
Felicity wrapped her hand around Ian’s bicep. “He didn’t fly here for you, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Ian put a halting hand on my shoulder before I could wrap my fingers around Felicity’s throat. Or at least get in a good hair yank.
“You clearly have some strong feelings, Katie,” Ian said. “One could only expect that. Things didn’t end well, and I know I hurt you deeply.”
“A mere paper cut.”
He looked at me with such pity in his eyes, like I was three steps away from throwing my sad self off the nearest bridge. “No matter your anger,” he said. “I have a job to do here, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
“What job? Seducing the skirt off every woman in town?”
He laughed, a throaty sound that had once all but made me float on air, but now made me want to claw his face with my nails. “Your grandmother needs help saving your theater, and I can be of use. I have many connections, and we can create a PR storm the likes those Thrifty folks have never seen.”
“And what’s in it for you?”
“You screaming across the stage as you tackled him during the intermission of your last show.” Felicity put a bracing arm around her dear Ian. “Does that ring a bell?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “I envision his black eye every night as I say my prayers and give thanks to the Almighty.”
Ian sighed. “It’s just like you to act so irrationally without any thought to anyone else.”
“Were you thinking of anyone else when you had your hands all over your assistant during the show? You couldn’t even wait ’til it was over? Until we were all gone?” The curtain had just gone down for intermission, and I had ran back to Ian’s office to tell him that a major critic was in the fourth row and found him and his perky, skinny, skanky assistant entwined on his desk. Had I walked in just a few minutes later, I would’ve seen something straight out of a Rated R movie.
“You humiliated me,” Ian said. “That critic absolutely crucified us all in her review.”
“You probably dated her once too.”
“If you can’t keep your personal life off the stage—quite literally—then you are not cut out to be an actress.”
It was a rusty scalpel to my heart, and Ian knew how to twist it until it hit a critical vein. There were lots of reasons I wasn’t stage material. And we both recognized it.
“Katie is a brilliant actress,” Frances said.
Ian merely smiled.
“This has been such a refreshing conversation,” I said. “I love how you still spin the tale and cast me as the evil villain. And now that I’ve heard it— again —you can leave. We don’t need your help. The very idea that you could save my town is just laughable. We’d have more luck shining a bat spotlight into the sky.”
“I already have press lined up,” Ian said. “A writer from
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