SOLO (16 page)

***

"Are you seeing anyone else?" Her voice is barely there as she pulls on her heel.

"What?" I spin around to look at her. "What did you just ask me?" I know what I heard. I fucking know what she asked me. Christ. I'm such a fucked up bastard. This is when I tell her. This is when it all comes out into the open and she runs away.

"You never want me to stay." She pats the edge of the bed. The room is silent except for the rhythmic sound. It's dim and smells like sex and lust. It's the place I never want to leave.

I look down. The words aren't there and it's not surprising. I haven't thought it through. I've always fucked them and sent them on their way. I never answer questions like this. I can't answer them now.

"Are you used to being alone?" It's an out. She's thrown me a fucking life preserver because that's who she is. "Is that why I can't stay?"

I move towards her, dipping my head to run my lips over her forehead. "I've been alone for a long time. I'm not close to many people."

Her face softens when I sit beside her. She pulls my hand onto her leg. "Where does your family live?"

"My family?" I look down at her.

"Your parents? Your siblings?"

I trace my hand along her jaw tilting it so her eyes meet mine. "My parents live in Greece."

"Did you ever live there?" Her brows pop with the question.

I smile and lean against her. This is how it should be. It should be quiet conversations about life and family. "I've always lived in New York. This is my home."

Her hand darts to my arm, twisting it slightly. Her eyes scan my watch. "I should go home. Tomorrow is opening night. I need to be at rehearsal early."

I pull her hand to my mouth, soaking in the scent of her skin. It all changes tomorrow. This is my last chance to tell her. Once we're in the theatre, and the curtain rises, Libby Duncan will be lost to me forever.

"Alec?" Her head dips down trying to catch my gaze with her own. "What's wrong?"

I look up, the lump in my throat making it impossible to swallow. "You mean so much to me, Libby."

She reaches up to cradle my cheek within her soft palm. "You mean a lot to me too."

I lean forward, pull her head to mine and kiss Libby Duncan for the very last time.

Libby

It's opening night. This is the point where my dreams are finally a reality. I'm not the lead, I didn't get the solo, but I get to dance and sing on the biggest stage of my career. Previews were fun and a lot of hard work, but they don't compare to what's about to happen.

I'm dressed in my costume. The tiny white skirt floats around my thighs. The white blouse is buttoned just enough to allow my breasts to spill out. I look like a wicked angel, which is actually the point. The entire chorus line is gathered around me. I should be celebrating with them. I should be soaking in the glory of achieving something many people don't, but I can only think of one thing.

Alec Hughes.

He's a liar.

When I asked about others, he panicked. He's a master at hiding it, but I saw the fear there, between his brows. I saw the way his jaw tightened. I saw the hesitation. He didn't answer my question.

When I asked about his family, he was confused. I had to clarity the point.

When I went back to his place, after he'd dropped me at home, it all made sense. I left my phone there lost within the sheets. He'd thrown it there when he pushed me down to eat me. It stayed there when he pulled me on top of him and slid his body into mine and we'd forgotten it there when he rushed me out to the car to take me home.

Jade wasn't home so I couldn't call him to ask about my phone. I'd run downstairs, hopped in a cab and raced back to his condo on Central Park West.

"Mr. Hughes isn't here. He's never here overnight." The doorman had said. "He doesn't live here."

He's doesn't live there.

Alec Hughes is a fucking liar.

"Libby," Claudia's voice breaks into my darkness. "Look what I have."

I stop and stare. It's there in her hand. It's the proof of my need to come to this city. It's validation for all my hard work. It's the playbill. "Can I see it?"

"I got this one for you." She places it in my hand with all the care one would take when handing over a newborn child to its mother.

I greedily open it, thumbing through the pages until I find my face. I can't see it. My eyes fill with tears. "Oh my God," I whisper into the backstage noise. "Oh, Claudia."

"I know, right?" She pulls her arm around my shoulder. "We made it, Lib."

I run my hand over my face, reading the details of my biography. "This is real."

"It's totally real." Her lips graze my cheek. "You should keep it as a reminder of your first night on Broadway."

I nod as I leaf through the pages, stopping to read about my cast mates. You'd think that we'd all be good friends after working so tirelessly for so many months but there is so much competition and animosity that it clouds the judgment of even the kindest souls.

"What is this?" I hold out the playbill for Claudia. "Who is this woman?"

She pulls the edge closer to her, taking the time to read through the page. "I have no idea. It says the show is dedicated to her. Isn't that Alec Hughes standing next to her in that picture?"

It is Alec. It's his face. It's from years ago, but it's definitely him.

"Quiet." The stage manager waves a finger at everyone backstage. "They're doing a dedication."

Claudia shrugs her shoulders as she wraps her arm around my waist.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce, Margaret and David Morton," Randall Myers, the producer I rarely see, hands a microphone to a woman whose face I can't make out. She standing next to a man who shares the same hue of gray hair that she does.

"We are delighted to be here." The woman's voice is soft and anxious. "We are actually standing in for our daughter, Natasha, who couldn't make it tonight. She's a bit under the weather."

The entire theatre is silent as she continues, "I'm…well… me and my husband are so grateful that our future son-in-law saw fit to invest in this brilliant production. Alec Hughes knows how much Natasha loves the theatre and this is his gift to her."

***

"You two need to get ready. The show starts in five." One of the stagehands peeks into the ladies' washroom, his eyes darting from where Claudia and I are standing to the empty stalls.

"We'll be right there," she barks the words at him. "I can't believe you fucked Alec Hughes."

I told her. I had to. After hearing that woman's speech I knew I couldn't go onstage without releasing some of the frustration that is brewing within me. "I don't get it, Claudia. Who the hell turns the other cheek when their fiancé is out fucking half of Manhattan?"

It's an exaggeration. I won't qualify it as slight, because I have nothing to judge by. I know that Alec fucked me. I know he's fucked women in the other plays he's invested in and I imagine he's fucked hundreds of other women. It's not a secret. His reputation precedes him, in the most negative of ways. How can any woman sit back and allow that to happen?

"It's not about her." Claudia pulls my hair into place behind my back. "This is so not about her, Libby."

"What do you mean?" I spin around sharply. "It's all about her. If I knew about her, I wouldn't have done it."

"No." Her hands firmly grip onto my shoulders. "This is about you. This is about him. This is not about her."

She's right. Alec is responsible for his own actions. He's the one who sought me out. I'm the one who willingly crawled into his bed. We made love together. I can't blame anyone for my choices but myself.

That's not going to stop me from giving him hell the moment the curtain closes tonight.

Alec

I'm a coward. I'm a fucking coward. I stared at her the entire time she was on stage. She was flawless and perfect. She held her own with grace and composure. No one in the audience could have known what was brewing within her.

I watched by the dressing room door as her friend rushed to her with a playbill. I saw the tears in her eyes when she saw her face within it. I watched with regret as she listened to Margaret's speech. I stood there wishing I could shield her from it and knowing there wasn't a fucking thing I could do. 

It was a fitting end to my day from hell. Listening to Natasha's parents lay all their sentimental bullshit on me was more than I could stomach.  I'd left the apartment early, heading to the condo to rest on the sheets that still smelled like Libby.

My world shifted when the doorman stopped me. Libby had come back last night for her phone. Libby had been looking for me. He told her. He fucking told her I don't live there.

The right thing to do would have been to take her phone to her and face my past. I froze. I took off my clothes, got in the bed and slid onto the sheet where she had been. I breathed in the lingering scent of her skin, closed my eyes and cried.

I cried for what I lost five years ago.

I cried for what I'm losing now.

I'm falling in love with Libby Duncan. I didn't want this to happen. I knew it couldn't happen because it would end just like this.

"Alec?" Margaret's hand is on my shoulder. "We should go back to the apartment now."
              I turn around slowly, my eyes studying her face. She's aged since I saw her months ago. It's that way every time she jets back to London to live her life. It's a life that's filled with society dinners, high tea with politicians and weekend trips to France and Italy, all on my dime. She thinks she can bury the pain beneath the connections to people she deems important. She believes the reality of the situation will stay hidden behind a mask of a false smile. She's never dealt with what happened five years ago. I've never forced her to.

"I have something I need to handle here, Margaret."

Her brow furrows and a flash of disappointment washes over her blue eyes. "You know that we like to watch the performance back altogether as a family."

I'm not part of her fucking family.  It's time for us all to face that. "I won't be watching this year. You and David can go ahead."

"If this is about one of your little friends…" She stops to take a heavy swallow. "If this is about one of the women you take to your bed, you know I won't stand for that."

She won't stand for it? She won't fucking stand for it? "We need to talk about things."

"What things?" she spits the words out with heavy disdain. "You know where your responsibilities are. Don't try and run away from them again."

Guilt is a bitch. It wears down the soul. It's been the burden I've been carrying with me since I was twenty-five-years old. "I'm not running from anything. I'll always provide for Natasha."

The question that's been stuck between us since the day it happened is sitting on her lips. She's not going to ask it. She won't ask it. I've always known that. "Natasha needs you. We all do."

They all need my money to live a life that affords them the chance to escape from their pain. "It's time things changed, Margaret."

She pinches the bridge of her nose. "What things?"

"This isn't the time or place." I look around us. The cast of Selfish Fate is milling about, rejoicing in the victory of a successful opening night. "I'll be home in a few hours, we can talk then."

"We don't need to talk." She takes a step towards me, her hands darting to my shoulders. "You're just feeling overwhelmed from the stress of tonight. It's a glorious musical, Alec. You've done such a good job."

It's so fucking pathetic. She thinks I'm oblivious to the fact that she can't stand the sight of me. It's why she ran off to Europe with her husband in tow five years ago. I'm her worst nightmare come true. Every single time she looks at me, she's reminded of what was taken from her. "Go back to the apartment, Margaret."

She'll run back there with David and they'll watch the performance he recorded back. They do it each time a show I invest in opens. She'll critique the casting choices, shred to pieces the musical numbers and talk about what could have been done better. I don't need to hear it. I don't want to hear it. I'm done listening to her criticize every choice I've ever made.

She leans forward brushing her red tinged lips against my cheek. The gesture is hollow and cold. "We'll take care of things there until you get back."

I nod. They'll take care of her until I get back. That's what she means. We both know it.

Libby

"You were great tonight, Libby."

I turn towards his voice. I don't recognize him immediately. My head is a jumbled mess from what happened last night when I went to see Alec. Add to that the words of the woman who spoke on stage right before the curtain went up and I can barely string together a sentence. "Thank you," I offer in polite response as I search my memory for his face.