Waiting For A Star To Fall (Autumn Brody Book 2) (12 page)

"No trouble, Ms. St. Clair."

Locking the door behind him, Veronica chugged half of the coffee as she stormed back to the dressing table.
No more.
She wouldn't ever read another of this sick bastard's letters again. Stomping on the letter with her heel, she kicked it beneath the dressing table and settled in to roll her hair.

Come near me and I'll show you what I'd do with a three-inch stiletto.
Sectioning her hair, she glared at her reflection.
I'll jam it in your fucking jugular, so help me. I am not your princess. Find another castle.

It was Andrew's decision not to forewarn Veronica about the surprise guest in tow.
Don't give her a chance to push him away without hearing him out
, he'd explained as Evan freshened up in their bathroom.
She needs all of the support she can get
. Unable to argue with that logic, Autumn had agreed to keep silent.

They'd done their best not to draw attention to their engagement but a two-carat diamond was rather hard to miss, as Autumn was quickly learning. Although Evan's congratulatory embrace was warm and sincere, she could sense the sting of how divergent their romantic lives had become.
For now, anyway
. Maybe Veronica seeing him in person would be the catalyst that led to a reunion.

They arrived at the theatre just moments after the matinee's conclusion, slipping inside with the begrudging blessing of Zoe Ferguson, who seemed to have a perpetual chip on her shoulder. Stunning as she was, with her short, black curls and caramel complexion, her attitude simply ruined it. Slipping into the back row of the orchestra level, they waited for Veronica to emerge for her scheduled rehearsal.

"That's Samuel Schatzman," Autumn murmured, pointing to a lanky man obscured in the shadows near stage left.

"How can you tell?" Andrew asked.

"Veronica says he has a special gift for going ninja without trying. Just like that guy."

Slowly, the cast of
In the Garden
emerged on stage, Veronica one of the last to arrive. Immediately, Evan recognized that she was far from her usual ebullient self. Leaning forward, he grimaced.

"She's so pale. Is she wearing make-up to make her that way?"

Autumn shook her head slowly. "She's a mess. The letters, the gift... It's getting to her."

Something was wrong: there was no action on set. Were they talking through the scene? Mentally counting the bodies on stage, Autumn groaned.

"Zachary's missing," she concluded. "And he's a main player in the damn scene they're reworking."

Evan scowled at the name. "Mr. Disney Dreamboat?" he hissed.

"She hates him," Andrew insisted. "We all do. He's such a slimeball. It's a shame he can actually fucking act."

From the front of house, Veronica's voice rang out: "Look, I've barely slept in the last week. If he can't be professional enough to be prompt, I'm not sticking around."

"It's not like her to be rude," Evan mused.

Autumn began to fidget in her seat. "No, it's not... And there she goes. Shit, come on, guys!"

They hastily rose from their seats, Autumn jogging down the aisle, calling out her friend's name. On the third try, Veronica froze, spinning around with a confused look.

"I didn't say four, did I?" she immediately babbled. "I told you five, right?"

"We came to look after you," Autumn insisted.

"You really didn't have to... Evan?"

Andrew had stepped aside, clearing Veronica's line of sight and revealing their unexpected guest. His face unshaven, eyes bloodshot, Evan's weary gait and drained features mirrored Veronica's ashen skin and defeated stance. Autumn edged to the left, waiting to jump in, should things turn ugly.

"Veronica." It wasn't as much as statement as it was a prayer.

"How?"

"I heard about the letters... I needed to know you were safe." One small step forward.

Veronica matched it, shaking her head. "But... But I...”

Evan shrugged. "I'm still your friend, if nothing else... Aren't I?"

"Of course you are." A tear slid down her cheek, her hand brushing it aside quickly. "You always will be."

Autumn watched the scene unfold, mesmerized. The electricity between them... it was astonishing. Even her cast mates seemed intrigued by the real-life drama unfolding between Veronica and her former boyfriend.

Former?
The question hung in the air, suffocating them. Each took another half-step forward, in unison.

"I wanted to call you, but I didn't feel like it was fair," Veronica admitted reluctantly.

"I wanted you to call," Evan countered sadly. "I knew you wouldn't, so I came to you."

And there it was: a smile. A genuine, vibrant smile from Veronica.
Hope
.

Turning to Autumn, Veronica whispered, "Would you excuse us? Evan and I need to talk."

"Take your time," Autumn urged. "Andrew and I are capable of amusing ourselves."

Veronica reached out for Evan's hand, pulling him behind her as she strode backstage. Judging from his bewildered expression, Evan didn't quite grasp what was about to happen behind closed doors. 
He'll clue in soon enough
, Autumn decided.

"I think they're going to be okay," Andrew declared with a knowing look.

"The heart wants what it wants. They'll figure it out in about thirty seconds." Autumn ushered Andrew closer, not wanting to be overheard. "Care to take a tour around this historic theatre?"

"Also known as Autumn trying to figure out how a stalker is evading the half-assed security in this place? I figured that was your plan."

She winced. "Am I that transparent?"

"You write books, Autumn. You might as well slap a sticker that says, 'Hi, my name is Angela Lansbury' on your chest." At her mortified expression, he chuckled. "Alright, let's
Murder, She Wrote
this place while we wait for those two to sort their drama out."

"I can sort it out for them, if they need me to. They're victims of cruel kindness," she grumbled. "Been there, done that. It was a huge mistake."

Cutting through a back corridor and nodding to Jose, Andrew studied the ceiling, taking note of the security equipment—or rather, the lack thereof. "Hey, we all screw up. As long as we learn from it, it's fine." With a frown, he gestured to his far right. "Is that one low-end camera what they want to call security? Jesus, I don't even think it's angled to correctly capture the entire corridor."

"So there's a blind spot?"

"Yeah. Watch me." With his back pressed to the wall beneath the camera, he slid around the corner towards the stage doors. "Voila. Bet you won't see me on the instant replay."

"Now, how much knowledge of surveillance would you need to make that deduction?" Autumn asked, tapping a note into her phone.

"You mean, is this a pro? Nah. You could figure that out from YouTube."

Continuing their study of the rear hallways of the O'Rourke, Autumn found herself increasingly irate. "Am I right in thinking that the exit camera does a better job of capturing people exiting than entering?"

"Clever woman. If you're lucky, you'd capture someone's ass with that thing, and not much else. If they chose an alternate route of departure..."

"You'd never get their face on film. My dad would lose his shit if a bank was this cavalier about their equipment." Exasperated, Autumn tossed her phone in her purse. "Basically, this place is more of a gaping hole than the Grand Canyon when it comes to the protection of their actors. Has my dad gotten back to you yet about the security service?"

"Not yet, although he did suggest it might take a day or two."

The bang of a steel door drew their attention, the two of them glaring as Zachary Parsons casually strolled inside. Clutching a folded paper, he was absolutely thrilled with himself.
Phone numbers
, she assumed as he tucked the page in his back pocket.

Ever cocky, he had the audacity to let his gaze blatantly roam Autumn's entire body. Furious, she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I know my tits are great, but they're off limits," she snapped. "You missed rehearsal, by the way."

Bemused—or perhaps aroused?—by her immunity to his charms, Zach shrugged. "I had important matters to attend to."

"Greeting underage girls? How classy. Chris Hansen would be slow-clapping for you, buddy," Andrew snarled.

Immediately, he was on the defensive. "Without fans, we have no audience. No audience, no money. It's not my fault that the rest of you don't understand the dynamic. Besides," he continued, "we're rehearsing a whopping three-inch difference in stage placement. A child could manage to keep that straight."

"Autumn? Is everything alright?" Veronica emerged from around the corner, flashing an exasperated look at her co-star.

"Peachy keen. Mr. Parsons was just explaining to us that without his shameless seduction of teenage girls, you wouldn't have a job."

Veronica laughed sarcastically, turning back to her co-star. "Oh, is that so? Because I can't think of a single article or review that suggested anything of the sort. Camilla, certainly. Connor, one or two. You? Not so much. Now, can we get this damn rehearsal over with?"

"Whenever you're ready,
princess
."

Watching Zach stomp off towards the stage, Veronica made a
tsk-tsk
noise, batting her eyes like an ingénue. "You know, I don't think he likes me much."

Andrew huffed. "Zero surprise. I've met grizzly bears with better personalities. What we're curious about is whether
Evan
likes you much?"

"Yeah, where is he?" Autumn chimed in playfully. "Would he be the reason you have lipstick on your right cheek?"

"Oh, crap!" Rubbing her cheek furiously, Veronica refused to make eye contact with either of them. "He's fine. He had to use the bathroom."

"To get your lipstick off his face, I presume," Andrew teased.

With a wink, she turned away, calling out behind her. "I don't know why he's bothering. I plan on covering him in it again right after this stupid rehearsal." The sound of a clap halted her departure, Veronica spinning around in a flurry. "Did you two just
high-five
over that?"

"
Maaaaybe
," Autumn sing-songed as Andrew snickered behind his palm.

"I... You know what? I'm too tired to be appropriately scathing. Insert snarky, chastising comment here. Now, hurry up. I have to go die dramatically in the arms of a self-centred douchebag."

They found Evan seated in the third row, a goofy grin plastered on his face. Settling in beside him, Autumn jabbed his arm with her elbow.

"So?"

His face bearing a dreamy expression, the likes of which she hadn't seen since the time Keenan had gotten stoned beyond the ability to walk, Evan's happiness was unmistakable. "She admitted what you told me, without me asking anything. I promised to go to Sheffield and she... Well, you know Veronica."

"Energizer bunny?" Autumn teased.

"I'm out of practice. She took my breath away—literally. I was gasping when she let go," Evan confessed sheepishly.

Autumn and Andrew laughed quietly, much to the dismay of the actors on stage. "Happy to hear it, Loverboy," Andrew whispered. "Now, I suggest we let the show go on."

Forcing themselves to be silent for the sake of Veronica's professional reputation, they watched as the actors moved into position, each looking to the shadowed figure off-stage for confirmation. The music kicked in and a carefully choreographed struggle ensued between Zach and his fictional brother. As Connor and Camilla looked on in horror, pleading for peace between them, Veronica lunged into the fray. Jonathan took a swing and the retractable blade of the stage knife slammed into her side. Hand pressed to her wound, her expression pained and perplexed, Veronica stumbled backwards and sang—

That was what was supposed to happen, anyway.

The first notes from her throat quickly gave way to a scream as a low whistle signaled a spotlight plummeting to the ground. Autumn rushed towards the stage while cast members scattered, fleeing the projectile. Not more than a foot away, Zachary Parsons stood in stunned silence, staring at the shattered glass around his shoes.

"Is everyone okay?" Autumn asked, glancing from side to side. "V?"

"F-fine," her friend stammered in a corner.

Autumn looked to Connor next, registering his nod as reassurance. "Anyone else hurt? The glass flew pretty far."

"The X," Zachary mumbled.

"X?"

Camilla's eyes widened as she edged forward, glancing upwards and then back at the floor. "It marks the spot, as they say."

Autumn followed her gaze, mapping the trajectory of the fallen equipment. It had, indeed, tumbled directly towards a small white 'X' marked on the stage in tape. With a sickening clarity, she understood now: this was no accident.

"Zachary, there's glass in your pants," Jonathan observed quietly.

"Whose mark is that?" Autumn asked. "Where the light fell—who uses that mark?"

"No one now," Samuel Schatzman replied, emerging from the shadows. "We changed it today."

"It was mine," Zach blurted out, his eyes boring holes in Autumn. "It was my mark for this scene, until today."