“Just name the day.”
“Tomorrow.” The next day was Friday, and weekend shifts were given to those who’d been there much longer than me. It dug into the potential of better tips, but it also gave me time for wooing impossibly sexy Satyrs with curls. Gods, I wanted to run my fingers through those ringlets and grab a fist full of them.
Easy, Scarlet. No need to get kicked out of the saloon for mauling the pianist.
Leaning over on the bench, Danny stole a quick peck against my cheek that lit a damn fire under my skin. The brief contact was like kicking over smoldering embers into a vat of cheap whiskey.
With a cheeky grin and a chipper tone to his voice, Danny said, “It’s a date.”
I was so keyed up from that little kiss, that I almost demanded that we skip the date and he screw me over his piano right then and there. But the idea of singing and dancing with him sounded like a dream.
“It’s a date,” I said back through a smile.
Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.
I stayed at the saloon until I was nearly falling asleep on the barstool. As much as I wanted to try and stay until Danny could escape with me after his shift, I knew damn well I wouldn’t be the sex god I’d need to be to make the man fall in love with me. Admitting my defeat, I retired back to my little apartment to get some much-needed sleep.
I also desperately wanted to bathe so I could stop smelling like sauce.
With a day to myself, I had some goals in mind. Other than making sure I was ready to woo a Satyr musician later that evening, I also had dreams to chase down.
I was going to the theater.
The first time I’d ever set foot in a theater was when I was seven. My mother took me to see Wayward Beauty, a musical about a woman who set sail to find adventure and ended up swept up into a brothel. The entire play was hilarious and fun, and of course the woman found true love by the end of the whole thing.
I remembered my mother singing along while she held me in her lap. She had the most amazing voice, and her laughter bounced me as she hugged me tight. She smelled like lavender that night. We wore matching dresses: purple and white.
After the play, we’d stayed around to meet the actors. That was when I learned the Mimics were theater folk, in every sense of the term. They were loud and fun, shifting forms to sing lines and dance with us well into the night. I was fairly sure my mother fell in love with one of the cast members for a time.
The stage had been so big when I stepped onto it, dancing and singing with all the adults.
“You have talent,” they said. “You should be onstage!”
I told my mother that night I’d grow up to be a singer, and she scooped me up in her arms and kissed my cheek.
“I’ll be in the front row, baby.”
Sorry it took me so long, Mom.
I only had two dresses left that were worth being seen in, and I picked out my trademark red one to wear to Danny’s date. The one for my first step into the theater was deep purple with lilac, with matching gloves that showed off a bit more of my arms. It wasn’t scandalous, but it was fun and daring. I needed to impress, after all.
New Haven’s theater of fine arts was perched in the heart of Uptown, a centralized crown jewel of art and majesty. Large pillars stretched upward toward the heavens, flanking an opulent arched doorway with carvings of flowers and vines tangled together. Two massive, dark wooden doors shared the same stunning designs etched in their surfaces and groaned as I pushed through them. Above the doorway was a stained glass window that flooded the inside floor with a dancing kaleidoscope of colors.
Walking into the empty, ballroom-style lobby with the colors pouring in felt like a baptism. Like I was shedding my old life and transitioning into another. It was a dream come true to be in that theater, knowing I would be on the stage.
This is where I belonged. Where I desperately needed to belong.
Passing through the front house, I peeked through the doors leading to the stage area. It was empty, of course. Rows and rows of vacant seats, facing the stage. Laughter and voices echoed through the theater, and even from as far back as I was, I could hear them well. Four people were standing onstage, papers in their hands, discussing something.
My heart began to pound as I forced myself to continue walking inside. It seemed to take me a lifetime to make it down the aisle, my legs wobbling as nerves shook me. When I was finally spotted, all four of them stopped their chatting and pointed their eyes at me.
“Can I help you?” one of the men onstage asked with an almost annoyed tone. It wasn’t until I was much closer that I saw the odd clothing they were all wearing. It was a one-piece suit, like long underwear, modeled and colored in a way to seem like trousers and a vest. It was strange and nearly threw me off completely.
I swallowed down the nerves clenching my throat and put on a smile.
“I’m here to audition.” I surprised myself with how strong my voice sounded, even though my whole body was shaking.
“Audition for what?” the annoyed man snapped again. “Ticket assistant? We have all the actors we need, obviously.” He motioned around to the other three. “Go home, sweetheart.”
I gave a little clap and gasped. “Oh, are you auditioning for an asshole? You’re doing a fantastic job. Could I give you some advice?” I put my hand up to my mouth like I was telling him a secret, whispering louder than necessary. “If you’re going to try and insult someone, try something better than ‘ticket assistant.’ Janitor would have been funnier. You’ll get there.” I winked for good measure.
There was a heartbeat of silence while the auditioning asshole stared in fury before the rest of the cast burst into laughter.
I let myself smile and gave a little courtesy. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”
A woman came over to me, honey-brown hair around her shoulders and pretty green eyes. She held out her hand and took mine in greeting.
“What’s your name?”
“Scarlet.” I squeezed her hand.
“I’m Finny, that’s Sam, Lyn, and Asshole is Ashley.” She aimed a smile back at Ashley, who crossed his arms over his chest, a deep scowl in place. Turning back to me, she let my hand go and continued. “We have a new play coming up that we might be able to squeeze you into, but we only hire people who can fit any part. Do you have experience?”
“I’m a Mimic, so fitting any part is kind of my expertise.”
“We’re all Mimics,” Sam said, moving from a stocky male form into a smaller female with longer limbs. The long underwear they were wearing gave them plenty of comfort and freedom to shift without stretching or tearing the fabric. “It kind of goes without saying that you need to be a Mimic to act with us.”
The openness with which they were shifting in front of not just me, but the others in the room as well, left me a little dizzy. It was far beyond my comfort zone to shift with others around, and the thought of it made me a little queasy.
“Not all Mimics can act,” Ashley snapped. “Just because you can change shape doesn’t mean you can act.”
“Good thing I’m here to audition, then, hm?” I gave them a curt smile.
Finny smirked and pushed the paper they were holding into my hand. “Why don’t you read Annibell’s lines?”
I scanned over the page as I stepped up onto the stage. Staring out into the void of seats had my head spinning, and for a very brief moment, I almost panicked.