Teacher's Pet (2 page)

He could do this every day. Oh Theater Gods, thank you for not pairing him with the smoker-lady for this one, he thought.

She finally broke it off, leaving Matthew slightly shocked from the absence of her. He helped her slide down him, taking care to lift her off of him and set her down gently before she could slide down the bulge in his jeans and cause a real situation.

They stood side by side and bowed their heads slightly, completely in sync with one another.

“Thank you.” The headless voice floated out from the seats.

They exited on the opposite side of the stage and were funneled into section with the others who went before them. Man Bun high-fived him as he took a seat. Fucking Man Bun. Of course he was a high-fiver. Somehow during their crabwalk across the tight aisles, he lost her. Matthew looked around but Lynn was gone.

He tried to push down the disappointment chewing up his chest. This was just an audition; their time together was finished. Expecting her to stick with him was silly and he had always parted ways with his scene partners in the past. He just had enjoyed watching Lynn walk away more than most, and he’d been robbed of his final shot.

She was just another girl. Just another gorgeous Italian girl. Just another gorgeous Italian brunette whose kiss made him pitch a tent in the middle of a crowded theater with his potential employer.

His spank bank was so full right now.

A haiku:

Matthew stretched out in the chair and tried to focus on his competition instead of his cock. He had missed several auditions while running lines with Lynn in the hall, but there were plenty of others to whittle down. He knew for certain he was better than a solid seventy-five percent of the males auditioning for Vance.

He didn’t just perform the role, he
was
the role. So many of these guys were choppy and robotic or bland; they lacked the soul needed for a man as complicated as Vance Gray.

How would the blond in skinny jeans handle the role when he went spiraling down the drug trip? He didn’t look like he could dominate a woman the way he had to dominate Fiona in that scene. Honestly, skinny pants were just not dominating anywhere, any time. Now the straight-leg, roughed up jeans Matthew was wearing, on the other, hand, could hold up to the scene where he holds Lynn down…

Just like that, his mind shifted from sizing up performances to undressing Lynn and throwing her onto his bed, exploring every inch of that nubile girl, owning her with his lips and tongue. She was like snake venom, tearing up his system and shutting everything else down. A girl hadn’t been able to take ownership of his mind like this in years.

Not since Nadia.

Not since his last show. Blarg.

He gritted his teeth and pulled his focus back to the stage. In some ways, Nadia was a lifetime ago, but she had taught him an invaluable lesson: don’t let love interfere with your craft. What started off as just plain old hot sex turned into a nightmare rapidly spinning out of control. She slept with directors, stagehands, his fellow actors, anyone she could to further her career in New York City. She’d just neglected to share this information with him while sharing his bed.

Matthew had to leave his last company. Had to. His girlfriend had banged his boss. The owner. Even his leading lady had been in his bed, but not with him. Humiliation wasn’t a strong enough word for that whole mess.

And as innocent as Lynn looked, he hadn’t expected Nadia to screw him over, either.

“Never trust a starving actress.” That was what his old mentor told him during his MFA program. Words he needed to heed this time and forever, even if he could be missing out on the best ass he’d seen in a long time.

This was his career on the line. His dick could mind its own business until after callbacks.

Finally, the last pair left the stage. Julia, the stage manager—Matthew made a mental note to remember her name this time—took their place.

“On behalf of Director Lewis and Greg Ficcus, thank you again for your time and hard work. We’re on a tight deadline with this show and I hope you are all flexible and ready to get to it. We’ll begin calling callbacks within the next few hours, so don’t venture too far into the city. Once you get a call, you’ll have approximately 15 minutes to arrive back at the theater or your absence will constitute a pass on the role. Everyone get something to eat and we’ll see some of you again shortly.”

Everyone got up and shuffled around, collecting their belongings. With just his portfolio in hand, he joined the stream of hopefuls to say goodbye and thank the director for his time.

One last chance to make an impression and secure a spot on that callback list.

Matthew kept an eye out for his Fiona, but Lynn was lost in the crowd. There were so many people in the auditorium, she was just swallowed up.

Disappointed, but telling himself he wasn’t, he continued with the flow down to the local bars, ready to calm his nerves with a stiff drink and a plate of onion rings. Early dinner of champions.

Definitely not by heading to a stall in the bathroom to jerk to his gorgeous scene partner.

“This is it, Flint.” He muttered to himself, but quietly, so he didn’t freak out those around him. “No girls. Just the stage.”

Famous last words.

M
atthew cupped
his hands around his drink and tried not to stare too hard at his phone. Waiting was the worst part of the whole gig, sitting back and rehashing your audition to death while praying they liked you enough to see you one more time.

This was not his high-dive moment.

This was the hit-the-bottom-of-the-pool-and-momentarily-feel-like-you’re-drowning moment.

A haiku:

Maybe he should take up swimming again. It could help with his audition jitters, and would probably be better than his poetry.

The elaborate clock on the wall sliced through seconds at a depressingly slow pace. Two hours had passed since the audition and he was on bourbon number four. Getting drunk before a callback was a death knell, but waiting for this callback was harder than all the others. Also, he was a good drinker.

Greg Ficcus was a god among playwrights.
Heaven Under Fire
on Matthew’s resume would jettison him to the next tier of NYC stages. No more off-off-off Broadway venues, no more dinner theaters tucked behind strip clubs or in the shadier parts of town—this was the real deal.

No more bartending. No more judgmental questions from his friends and family. No more pretending everything was going exactly to plan on Facebook or around other actors during cattle calls. Life as he knew it would be radically different, a thing of beauty, repayment for all the years he had slaved away in shitty jobs for the passion boiling away under his skin.

And his goddamn phone was silent. It was like the Theater Gods had bestowed their only favor already. Jerks.

Half the pub tables around him were full of other actors from the audition, nervously chatting over waters and plates of celery sticks. A few celebratory squeals had sounded through the room about thirty minutes prior, but the place had gone quiet since then.

Happy hour was rapidly approaching, along with the promise of too many people in suits and heels to drown out the sound of his ringtone.

Matthew scratched his hands across the top of his head and tried to settle his nerves. It wasn’t just that this could be his breakout role; this was his last real chance to finally make it. Bartending at twenty-nine was so cliché and embarrassing. Particularly when someone from the old company wandered through. It made him long for a quick death to pour top-shelf drinks for former colleagues.

Every student loan payment reminded him of the path he took, the soul-crushing amount of money and time put into a degree that now did nothing more than sit on the floor, too painful a reminder to hang up just yet.

Living in the city wasn’t cheap and his savings were looking more pathetic than the wilted salad at the next table.

Maybe Lynn really was too much of a distraction. He had tried his damnedest to keep focused, to let the scene unfurl in his mind and breathe life into it, but she was a thorn in his performance.

Jesus, he got an erection in the middle of the scene. Way not cool.

The mere thought of the kiss made his balls draw up tight and he had to carefully adjust himself on the seat to keep from rubbing across the seams of his pants. That kiss was going to haunt him for the next week. At least.

They didn’t just kiss, they had made out during a professional audition. It was blatantly disrespectful and he’d been sabotaged by his own dick. That was going on his tombstone when he keeled over of the embarrassment.

But fuck. He would do it again in a second.

College-aged girls were so exciting, so full of life, in comparison to the hardened, older actresses. They’d been ridden hard and spit out by the theater community for so long, it was like riding a unicycle, falling over sloppily every way you turned.

Fresh faces were so rare these days, but how he loved them. Matthew wanted to take her unburdened spirit and bathe in it.

Maybe even fuck her, loudly, in it. Nailed it!

Lynn was a taste of the fountain of youth and she was sinfully delicious. Except that she cost him his last goddamn audition of the summer, maybe of his life—if he was feeling particularly melodramatic. Call it a side effect of living the artist’s life. An occupational hazard, even.

Then again, maybe their chemistry helped convey something more powerful than the others. They were Vance and Fiona, fighting for their relationship, up on that stage.

Or at least he was.

Matthew Flint was a professional actor and he gave a professional and outstanding audition. Everywhere but in his pants.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been so angry. Maybe a more subtle approach would have been Vance’s style, and he mucked it all up. All these ‘maybes’ were going to send him spiraling down another glass of bourbon. Or five. May as well enjoy the last of his savings.

He checked his phone again. Nothing. At this rate, he was going to kill the damn battery before he could get a call anyway. He stretched and tried to distract himself with the art pieces on the wall for the fiftieth time.

He was halfway through them when he spotted some new decor: a very nervous, very beautiful Lynn.

She looked more of a wreck than he did, checking her phone every five seconds and chewing on her nails. From across the room, she looked way too young to be in the pub. That youthful glow did her a disservice around bottles of booze, but sent happy hour pricks circling her like gnats around a fruit bush.

His
fruit bush. Oops. He shouldn’t have thought about bush.

Matthew shook his head slightly to unwind the territorial fingers wrapping around his brain. She wasn’t his anything. In all likelihood, she was his career undoing. Best case, she was so distracting, he had botched his final audition of the season. Unfortunately, she was so goddamn pretty, he almost didn’t mind.

Almost.

Roles before Hoes
aside, he could at least keep her company and fight off the clearly unwanted company while they waited. Waiting alone was going to bring on an aneurysm. He grabbed his lukewarm bourbon and stepped between the tables.

“Mind if I sit?”

Lynn jumped, like he had pulled her out of a total daze. She smiled thinly, too nervous for those beautiful dimples to show themselves. Matthew took this as a good sign and took an empty chair on the other side of the table.

“Hey pal.” Some twenty-something in a blue blazer with a checkered button down protested, clutching his glass of soda-and-something. He looked like the kind of guy who couldn’t drink liquor straight. Amateur! He probably liked skinny pants and man buns too. “I was talking to her first.”

“Didn’t look like she was actually talking to you.” Matthew raised his glass in a mock toast. With his superior liquor choice. Boom! “So why don’t you respect her wishes and get the fuck out of here?”

“That’s a pretty ballsy assumption, my friend.”

Matthew stood to face down the guy. Maybe he wasn’t the tallest dude in the bar, barely clocking in at five-foot eleven, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in stature. Chubby kids in school may get made fun of through adolescence, but a lot of them end up kicking ass in the gym later.

Matthew was no exception. Krav Maga was his friend these days. He held his glass so his arms bulked up substantially.

“Is it now,
friend
? Or are you too clueless to read body language?”

Blazer Guy’s face screwed up, like he wasn’t accustomed to insults, but he should have been. The guy wore a cheap-looking blazer and had shitty highlights in his hair. Highlights! This wasn’t the late nineties and that shit shouldn’t be allowed anywhere outside of a rap-rock band. Although that was another nineties moment Matthew felt strongly should remain in the past.

The guy took one final look at Lynn, who shrugged, and another at Matthew, before he stalked off.

Matthew should have been wearing a cape at that moment, it was so goddamn heroic.

A haiku:

“I really should remember to start bringing my phone charger to auditions.” He gestured to his phone, being super nonchalant about what just happened. “I’ve checked it so many times, it’s on life support.”

“I know, right? This is going to give me a heart attack. I’ve already texted my mom with my last will and testament.” Lynn bit her lip. It was perfect and pink. Matthew found himself wanting to bite it, too.

“I hope she likes cats.” Good Lord, his game was actually getting worse.

“Do I look like a cat person?” Lynn feigned shock. Maybe she was actually amused by him after all. “Oh my God. No wonder no one wants me. Luckily, though, Mr. Mittens is going in the casket with me. We’re for life.”

“This is why they haven’t called you back.” He took a sip of his drink, proud he didn’t refute her unwantedness. Fuck, did he want her, but he wasn’t going to say it. “They could smell the cat lady on you.”

“Probably.” She laughed, for real this time, and it was music to his ears. She turned to him and her whole demeanor shifted into something more serious.

“Listen, thanks for chasing that guy off. I never know what to do in those situations. They always make me so uncomfortable because no one ever seems to understand the word no. It can be a little … overwhelming.”

“A gentleman always respects when a lady doesn’t want anything to do with him.” Matthew gestured to her with his glass. “If you’re playing hard to get, that’s one thing; but when you aren’t interested? He needs to pack up his toys and go home. It’s completely disrespectful and there’s always more than one pretty girl in the bar.”

Lynn nodded and returned to her phone. Matthew ignored his, despite the growing itch in his thumb to swipe his screen just one more time. A call would light the whole damn thing up and it was black as night. Unless it was dead. He should probably check, just once. Right?

“I don’t know.” Lynn pulled him back out of his head and away from his phone.

“I don’t know that I can blame the guy. You are definitely the prettiest girl in the bar tonight. I bet you are every night.” Oh my God, what was he even saying? Why was he saying this? Now he was the creepy older guy.

Matthew wanted to punch his own dick in the dick. Except not, because what if she had enough daddy issues to
want
his dick? Life was hard.

“I wish.” The bright smile returned. She was pink around the cheeks. “But thank you. I’ll take all the compliments I can get after this heartache. I really wanted this role.” Well, he could still give decent advice, war in his pants aside.

“It’s certainly a business of heartache. There are too damn many of us and too few roles. Sometimes, it’s easier to think about quitting than to think about another rejection. Don’t ever give up, though. Those who quit, never do.” Or, he could give inspirational sound bites. Either or.

Lynn frowned slightly. “I guess. It can be really disheartening sometimes. It looks a lot less intimidating before you get in there. You know, you can think you’re awesome one minute and then be crushed the next. But, if the guy in the lip ring gets a callback and I don’t, I might just quit acting for literally ever.”

“Man Bun?” Matthew shook his head. “There’s no way he can be what they’re looking for. Vance Gray doesn’t have a freaking man bun.”

Another smile. “Man Bun! I know, right? I would have laughed so hard at him if I hadn’t been so busy losing my shit. No, no, definitely no callbacks there. And Fiona wasn’t some wilting flower like half of them were playing. She was in love with an addict. That takes guts.”

“To guts.” Matthew clinked her glass. “Our scene was arguably the best there. Our talent probably blew them all out of their seats. Blew their minds, which is probably why they are taking so long to call. They’ve gotta find them first.”

“Or it sucked so badly they want to run us out of town.” Gah, poor kid.

Matthew wanted to reach out and give her a hug. Her journey was just starting here in theater, and she was in for a lot of disappointment. It could be hard as hell to stomach, and everyone had to go through it, but he hated to see her look so glum. When she smiled, the whole world lit up. Not that he noticed.

Every.

Fucking.

Time.

He cleared his throat and put on the air of an old timey vaudeville performer. “Well. One thing is for certain: I didn’t tank our odds. My Vance Gray was fucking amazing.”

“Are you saying I’m the reason we didn’t get called back?” Lynn looked shocked, annoyed, and more gorgeous than before. The pink cheeks flushed a dangerous shade of red. “Rude.”

“I’ve been acting since I was a kid.” Matthew took another sip. One or two more drinks and he’d be drunk. It was both fun and dangerous. He was close to no longer caring about the audition and instead continued on the banter with this pretty young thing.

“I’m talking community theater every summer, going to state in high school, acting conservatory in college. I have my MFA in acting, for fuck’s sake. I’m the gold standard on Broadway.”

“Are you seriously giving me your resume right now?” Lynn laughed at him. Dimples everywhere. “You didn’t make it! They didn’t want you or your fancy MFA.”

Matthew couldn’t stop staring at her lips, remembering how they had claimed him during their audition and the sweet way she tasted. His drink made his head feel fuzzy and he decided he really didn’t particularly care anymore if he got called back or not, just so long as Lynn was there with him.

If someone tried to call either phone, he’d probably throw the damn thing out.

The way she worked her tongue during their kiss was enough to make him consider proposing, or at least propositioning, and the memory was almost as potent as the whiskey.

“Can I buy you another drink?” He said instead. A subject change was needed before he embarrassed himself again. She was too young for him and the last thing he needed, on top of this terrible day, was to be considered a creeper. The bar was starting to fill up, too, and getting a drink was going to take a while.