And no was not that answer. Stevie couldn’t even imagine speaking it right now, the way everyone’s expressions would fall, disappointment filling their eyes. Or worse, they wouldn’t be shocked at all, because . . . well, because this was Stevie.
“Yeah,” she said before she could overthink it. She inhaled quietly, thinking about Stefania from Friday night, the woman who’d kissed Iris first before everything went to hell. “Of course I am.”
Vanessa held up her fists in victory and Ren grinned at Stevie like she’d just found the cure to cancer. Adri smiled, no teeth, just that soft gaze that Stevie knew meant she was thinking. Stevie wasn’t sure she wanted to know the specific thoughts.
“That’s my girl,” Ren said, hopping off the stage and taking Stevie by the shoulders. “See? I knew you could do it.”
Stevie just nodded, her brain whirling already at how long she could keep up this lie. Knowing Vanessa, it was only a matter of time before she suggested a double date, triple if Ren could find someone to bring, which they undoubtedly could.
Right now, though, Stevie shoved those thoughts away. Right now, she reveled in this—the feeling of being okay, of being someone other people might desire. Even if it was all a lie, the way her friends were looking at her right now—the way they were making her feel—that was real.
“OKAY,” ADRI SAID after Ren brought up the picture of Stevie and Iris again at the club and Vanessa had nearly passed out from Iris’s hotness, “time to get down to business. Auditions start at eleven, and I need to go over some things with the crew before then.”
“I’m going to go talk to Phoebe,” Ren said. “See what she has in mind.”
Adri nodded as Ren headed off backstage. Phoebe was a trans woman, a brilliant artist, and had been the Empress’s lead costume designer since day one. She was one of the very few staff members with a full-time salary, and Adri pretty much did anything she had to do to keep her.
“I’ll head out to the lobby to set up the sign-in table,” Vanessa said. “Company auditions are with Julian, right?”
“Yeah, in the back hall. He’s already there, I believe. Thank you, baby,” Adri said, then the two kissed once . . . twice . . . three times before they finally unlocked, and Vanessa hopped off the stage.
“I can’t wait to meet Iris,” she said as she passed Stevie, squeezing her arm.
Stevie just nodded. Pretty soon, her head was going to lop off her neck from overuse.
“Come on up,” Adri said, motioning Stevie toward the stage.
Stevie took her time climbing the stairs on stage left, preparing herself to be alone with Adri, particularly after the way Stevie had nearly nuzzled her neck at Bitch’s on Friday.
She settled next to her ex, took out her copy of Much Ado from her bag.
“So,” Adri said, flipping through her script. “You’re really dating her?”
Stevie blinked. Adri always did know when Stevie was bullshitting her, which was why Stevie rarely bullshitted her. Still, Stevie wasn’t going for honesty, here, no matter how much Adri pressed.
“Yeah,” Stevie said.
Adri nodded, finally meeting Stevie’s eyes. “She looks . . . fun.”
Stevie frowned. “What does that mean?”
Adri waved a hand, laughed. “Nothing. I don’t know. She seems . . . different.”
“Different how?”
“Just . . .” Adri shook her head, looking up as she pondered. “She seems wild. Has that air about her, you know? Party girl.”
Stevie bristled. “You got all that from one picture in a dim bar?”
Adri smiled and shook her head. “You’re right. That was a stupid thing to say. I’m happy for you. Let’s get to work, okay?”
Stevie took a surreptitious deep breath. She hated when Adri did shit like this, saying something that made Stevie feel small and unsure, then immediately apologizing so Stevie couldn’t even be mad about it.
“Fine,” Stevie said. “Yeah.”
“Okay. Our first priority is finding our Beatrice.”
“What about Tori?”
“Pregnant,” Adri said, smiling. “Nearly six months and due in September, so she can’t do it.”
“Oh my god, really?” Stevie said. “That’s great for her.” Tori was a Black lesbian who’d been with the same woman, Lakshmi, since they were fifteen and baby queers in Arkansas. They’d been trying to get pregnant for years and had gone through a couple miscarriages, so Stevie was delighted to hear this.
Tori was also their best lead actress.
“There’s no one else?” Stevie asked.
Adri shook her head. “No one good enough. Molly hates Shakespeare and Cassandra can’t do comedy to save her life. I’ve already cast Jasper as Hero. We’ve got to find someone new. Someone amazing.”
“Should be easy enough,” Stevie said wryly. Like all directors, Adri was picky, critical, and demanding. Double that when it came to Shakespeare, so finding a brand-new Beatrice with whom Stevie had onstage chemistry and who satisfied Adri’s standard of perfection?
Well. It was going to be a long day.
SEVEN POTENTIAL BEATRICES later, Stevie was ready to fling herself into the sea.
Too bubbly.
Not enough energy.
No intuition.
They’re trying too hard.
I don’t believe you want to bang them, Stevie.
That last one was a real zinger, as this comment from Adri felt like it was more about Stevie’s acting than the hopeful thespian with whom she was sharing the stage. Still, Stevie didn’t take it personally—acting was the one area in her life where she could take direction and not immediately feel the need to breathe into a paper bag. This was the game, the show, and if you wanted to get better, to shine, you had to be willing to suck every now and then.
Still, Adri was particularly brutal today and Stevie’s exhaustion level was climbing.
“What, my dear Lady Disdain!” Stevie said as Benedick. A terrified-looking white person named Candice stood opposite her, ears full of piercings, short hair dyed lavender, eyes wide as saucers as they looked at the script.
“Are you yet living?” Stevie went on, motioning toward Candice.
“Um, oh, right.” Candice peered at the script before speaking robotically. “Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself—”
“Thank you,” Adri said, forefinger and thumb rubbing at her temples. Then she smiled beatifically. “Wonderful, Candice, we’ll be in touch.”
Candice skulked away, and Stevie collapsed onto the stage, limbs flailing out like a starfish.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Adri said, but she was laughing.
“I thought that was the point,” Stevie said, staring up into the lights and wires.
Adri sighed. “I can’t help it if these people can’t act.”
“You didn’t even let the poor soul finish the line!” Stevie sat up and rubbed her face. “I need a break.”
“Okay, yeah,” Adri said, plopping down into one of the velvet seats. “It’s past lunchtime anyway. Maybe we could get something delivered.”