Rouge (#1 in the Cheveux Roux series) Page 5

  Dust floated in the sunlight streaming in from above, and I heard small feet scampering up behind me across the polished-wood stage. Teeny was at my side again, and she moved in close when we stopped where Roland sat playing. I could tell he was listening to our conversation as well.

  “I thought you didn’t approve of Beau.” Her voice was worried.

  “He’s a stagehand with a future as bright as a river rat’s.” I allowed the pain in my waist to sharpen my tone, easing her little mind.

  “You’re very ungrateful, since he saved your life and all,” she scolded. But she was instantly swoony again. “His eyes are like cornflowers.”

  “What?”

  “His eyes,” she repeated. “Cornflowers.”

  I didn’t want to think about Beau’s eyes. I didn’t want to think about him reaching out and grabbing a speeding rope, shredding his hands to save my life. I wouldn’t think of him as a hero, whatever the girls might be calling him, and I wouldn’t linger on the way he said he wouldn’t let me fall.

  The last thing I needed was to think of him as anything more than an unreliable set worker, a drifter. A fellow of no consequence, who happened to do the right thing for whatever reason. And whose eyes were not at all like cornflowers.

  “They’re darker,” I said. “More like irises.”

  “Hmm,” Teeny thought about this. “You’re right.”

  “And you know where irises are found?” I continued. “In the swamp.”

  “How wonderful! Beauty growing in the ugliness.”

  “They never get out of the mud.”

  “But they’re so attractive while they’re there.”

  “What’s so attractive?” Beau was at my shoulder, and I spun around. Had he heard us?

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He held out the box that went with Freddie’s note. How had I forgotten that? “You forgot this.”

  “Irises,” Teeny answered, bouncing over to him. “I said your eyes were like cornflowers, but Hale said irises.”

  My eyes widened. Beau looked at me with a pleased expression, but I quickly turned back to the piano. My cheeks were burning, and out of habit, I glanced at Roland, who was now grinning as he watched his hands moving over the keys.

  “You like irises?” Beau asked.

  “No,” I said, wishing anything would stop this.

  He laughed but I cringed.

  “I think they’re beautiful,” Teeny jumped in, clutching his arm. I sneaked a glance at Beau who was looking down at her with nothing more than brotherly affection. He patted her little hand.

  “I like that you discuss me so favorably.” Then he turned those blue eyes straight back to me. Only now they were more like little blue flames.

  “Rosa’s probably waiting to do my fitting,” I murmured. As I hastened away, I heard Roland call after me.

  “We need to go over your songs,” he said, but I kept moving without looking back.

  * * *

  The bones of the corset cinched into my bruised torso as Rosa pulled the laces as tightly as possible. The pain almost made me cry out, but I fought it. I had to get back to work. Freddie would be in the audience watching for me tonight, and I had to get him moving faster with that proposal.

  Next came the heavy velvet costume. The thick fabric dropped over my head and as I lowered my arms and looked up, I saw the plunging neckline now revealed two distinct hills at the top of my chest. I was surprised and a little embarrassed.

  “How’d you make it do that?” I asked, fluttering my hand to cover my new-and-improved bosom. Gavin had often complained loudly about my flat-chested, boyish figure. He would approve of this development.

  “The corset pushes you up,” she said. “And perhaps you’ve grown a bit.”

  “Not this much,” I said looking at myself in the mirror. The costume was blood-red velvet with lines of black sequins running up the bodice. The sweeping skirt flowed down in back, but the front now rose to the top of my thighs, putting my skinny legs on full display.

  “Definitely no more pantalets,” I said.

  “You haven’t worn them in years anyway.” Rosa jerked at my bodice, sending pain shooting through my sides. I winced. “Look straight ahead,” she ordered.

  I looked forward and she gathered my hair into a twist of large curls at the top of my head. The shoulders of my costume had thin black feathers that flowed down and tickled the tops of my arms. With my hair up, the full effect of the ensemble was dazzling.

  “Please say I don’t have to wear that headdress anymore,” I pleaded. “It’s so heavy.”

  Rosa frowned at me. “I don’t like it.”

  “What?” I barely recognized myself. It was like some beautiful woman with breasts had sneaked in and taken my place. “I think I look amazing.”

  “You look so old.” She dropped my hair. “It’s too soon.”

  Her meaning was clear, but there was no changing it. I stepped forward and picked up the box Freddie had sent. It was still unopened, so I slid the white ribbon from around it and lifted the lid. Inside was an elaborate, cut-glass comb that sent rainbow sparkles through the room when the light hit it. For a split second I wondered how much I could get for it at the pawn shop. Rosa looked over my shoulder.

  “From Freddie?” she asked. I nodded. Her hands returned to my hair, and she twisted it around with a pin. “Hand it to me,” she said.

  I passed her the comb, and she planted it on the side of my head. “That’ll do. It’ll encourage him to see you wearing it during your performance.”

  She seemed happier, and my throat tightened. I never realized Rosa supported my plan with Freddie. She’d been something like a mother to me after I lost my own, but if I left, I knew I’d never see her again. I turned to embrace her in the quiet sadness now filling the room. We were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Rosa stepped back to open it, and my eyes looked up to meet… irises.

  “Roland sent me to…” Beau’s voice cut off as he took in my appearance. Then it dropped to a whisper. “You look—”

  “She has to finish here first,” Rosa interrupted, irritated.

  His reaction made my stomach feel tingly, and I looked away, reaching for the comb in my hair. One tug and a dark curtain fell across my plunging neckline and hot-pink cheeks.

  “Tell him I’ve got one more costume,” I said, too embarrassed to look up.

  “The costumes are just as important as the numbers,” Rosa added. Then she put a thick hand on Beau’s chest and pushed him back out the door, closing it on his stunned face.

  “He’s a sweet boy,” she muttered.

  I didn’t answer and instead pulled at the laces on my costume. I could tell she was watching me. “What do you think about him?” she asked.

  “Who?” I tried to pretend I hadn’t heard her, but she was smarter than that.

  “I said that Beau seems like a sweet boy,” she repeated staring at my face.

  “I owe him my life.” I stepped out of the costume, aware that she wasn’t convinced, but she pulled out the peacock blue corset without another word.

  It had a huge, black feathered fan that attached to the back, and with a pair of black fishnet stockings, it was all there was of my costume for the finale. The finale in which I would descend from above as a bird singing out over the audience.

  On that bench.

  * * *

  Rosa made me carry my own costumes back to my dressing room for the night’s performance. It didn’t matter that I was injured or that some members of our company, Gavin included, referred to me as the star. To Rosa I was still the little girl she took over rearing after my mother passed, and I did my own toting.

  The room was empty as I walked to my armoire to hang the heavy garments, and I noticed a small white box on my dressing table tied with a red ribbon. My name was written on it in an unfamiliar hand, and when I opened it, I found a dainty white petit four decorated with a tiny, blood-red flower inside. The sugary smell fill
ed the room and made my stomach rumble. I lifted it to my face and inhaled the richness. The tiny cakes were expensive, and I’d only gazed at them through the window across the street.

  I set it down again and looked for a note, but there was none. I walked to the door and stuck my head into the passage, but there was no one in sight. I put the box back on my table and then walked quickly through the maze of backstage corridors to where everyone was rehearsing out front. Roland was pounding out the tango number on the piano and Frank and Carla were spinning, their heels flicking up every few notes. I went and sat beside him on the bench.

  “At last,” he snipped. “I trust all the costumes that fit you perfectly last week continued to fit today.”

  “They’ve been altered,” I said, thinking of my now-plunging necklines and thigh-high skirts. “Tell me, did Freddie leave anything else?”

  “One gift’s not enough for you?” Roland was still playing the notes, timing Frank and Carla’s feet.

  “There was something else. And it didn’t say who it was from.”

  “I gave you everything he left with me.” He pounded the last chord twice then turned on the bench to face me. It was the first time our eyes had met all day, and it hurt. My eyes dropped to my lap.

  “Did you leave something for me?” I wondered if the tiny cake was Roland’s way of apologizing. Only he didn’t know Evie had told me about the two men, and how betrayed I felt.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There was a petit four in my dressing room. It was wrapped like a gift. From Pain Fraiche.”

  “I don’t know anything about it,” he breathed. Then he paused and glanced up into the rafters. I followed his gaze to where Beau was sitting on my bench fastening something I couldn’t see into the beams.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “He’s been sitting on that bench working for the last hour or so, but before that…”

  The implication irritated me. “Why is he sitting on my bench?”

  “Probably assumes he weighs more than you do,” Roland answered. “Although if he keeps sending you cake—”

  “It wasn’t him.” My voice was sharp. “He’s not… he couldn’t afford something like that.”

  Roland shrugged and turned back to the piano. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. We’ve got to practice your songs now.”

  “Are we going over that part again?” I motioned toward the rafters.

  Roland shook his head. “I’ll operate the pulley myself tonight from below, so you just focus on singing the song. I’ll take care of the timing.”

  “From below?”

  “We’ve installed a stronger mechanism. He’ll still be up there to grab the safety rope. But that won’t be necessary. Ever again.”

  I glanced up at Beau once more, but he still hadn’t looked in my direction. He was very focused on whatever he was doing. Roland pounded out my first four chords and I turned back to sing.

  * * *

  The audience’s enthusiasm at our new numbers and my dramatic return was strong. It lifted my spirits as we made our way through the arrangements. A few gasps were heard when I was unveiled in my redesigned costumes, and occasionally over the glare of the lights, I caught sight of a mesmerized face. But I was ever the actress, unaffected, lifting my arms with Frank’s as he led me through the pas de deux.

  The break before the finale was short, and I raced through the chalky, talc-filled air, past the low murmur of dancers warming up, to my dressing room for my wardrobe change. All night I’d ignored the hollow stabs of pain hitting my middle whenever I moved until I was nearly exhausted. Rosa met me in my small room ready to untie, slip over my head, retie, and sweep up my hair. She patted tiny beads of sweat away from my hairline with a tissue, and I followed her movements with my thick powder puff.

  “Freddie’s sitting stage right,” she said as she fastened the comb in the side of my head. “Turn your head so he sees it.”

  I nodded, slipping my feet back into my black shoes, and I was out the door and making my way to the ladder in less than a minute. But as I climbed, everything slowed down. I didn’t understand what was happening. I was in perfect shape for climbing a ladder, but the higher I rose, the harder it was to breathe.

  By the time I reached the top, I was gasping and shaking all over. My body was covered with a cold sheen of sweat and pain gripped my chest. I couldn’t move. Beau was waiting for me, ready to help me into my seat. But all I could do was stand there and grip the rope, paralyzed by fear.

  He took one look at my face and seemed to understand immediately what was happening. He quickly moved to where I stood shivering and reached for me with a bandaged hand.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Take my hand.”

  My wide eyes locked on his, just visible in the dim light.

  “I… I don’t understand.” I couldn’t explain the panic I felt, why I couldn’t catch my breath. This had never happened to me before.

  “Look at me,” he said, holding both my hands. “Breathe.”

  My chest was still tight, but I tried to pull in a breath.

  “I’ve worked on this all day. It’s not going to break.”

  I held his hands, and I could feel the strength that had caught me the first time I fell. I believed him, but it was so hard. I was still injured.

  “You’re not going to fall,” he said.

  I looked into his eyes and focused on taking the air in and pushing it out. Fear still gripped me, but since the accident, something else had crept in, a warmth I couldn’t resist. I looked at Beau and there was no escaping it. My heart continued beating fast, but now there was another reason. I turned away. I could only fight one battle at a time, and I had to get in that swing.

  “Don’t worry,” he soothed. “You’re safe with me.”

  I nodded as my introductory notes rose to meet us. He helped me into position and then eased me out, away from the scaffolding and over the dark house. A lone spotlight hit me, and I don’t think he intended for me to hear his last words.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  I sparkled in the lights, and as I looked back, I caught one last glimpse of his smile and those two blue flames just visible from here. His hands held the safety rope, and though my chest was still tight, I inhaled a large breath and my voice rang out over the exclamations of surprise and delight from the audience below.

  * * *

  Teeny wasn’t waiting in the wings when the curtain fell, but I didn’t have time to find her. Freddie would be headed to my dressing room, and I had to be there ready to meet him.

  Like every other night, I quickly made my way past the dancers and stage hands through the backstage maze to the small room where Rosa was waiting to help me out of the peacock corset and into my red velvet dressing gown. I had just cinched it tightly closed when there was a soft tapping on the door.

  I swept it open to find Freddie absolutely glowing in the passage outside my door. He handed me another huge bouquet of fragrant red roses.

  “Tres fantastique!” He gushed. “The finale, your descent…” He clasped my hand in both of his and lifted it. “You were like a vision coming down from the heavens.”

  I smiled as he pressed my palm to his lips. “I’m so glad you were pleased.”

  Rosa slipped the flowers from my arms, and I turned back to him.

  “I was thinking of you the whole time,” I lied. “Did you notice my hair?”

  “It was like waves on the dark ocean…” His gray eyes twinkled. “I mean yes. The comb.”

  Internally I shook myself. Freddie was tall, dashing, a gentleman. He had wonderful manners, and he was rich. It was unacceptable that my heart didn’t respond to him more.

  “So you liked my gift?” he asked.

  “I loved it.”

  Our hands were still clasped, and I leaned forward inviting his kiss. His cheeks turned slightly pink, and he leaned in as well. But at the last moment he caught himself, stra
ightened up, and cleared his throat.

  “There was only one thing,” he said, stepping aside and growing serious. “You were gorgeous, of course, but, well…”

  “Yes?” I smiled. What in the world?

  “Your dresses seemed to have changed.” He looked down at his shiny black hat as if he feared he might offend me.

  I made my best disappointed face. “It’s a shame, isn’t it?” I said. “Propriety has eroded so much.”

  “Please don’t think I blame you,” he said quickly. “After all, you’re a lady no matter what circumstance forces you to do. I’m just sensitive to your feelings.”

  “It’s true,” I said shaking my head, embracing my role.

  “Is it… is Gavin making you do it? Because I could speak to him if you’d like.”

  “Gavin does make the final decisions, but he’s controlled by the desires of the audience. I think he’d argue it’s keeping up with the latest trends in theater.”

  “I suppose you’re right. But I don’t want you to think I’m not sensitive to your feelings. If you’re uncomfortable in any way—”

  “I’ll try to manage.”

  “Excellent. Because I thought you looked fantastic. Amazing.”

  His enthusiasm was back, and I smiled as he pulled my hand to his lips again. Then I tensed as I noticed Beau in the passage behind him. He was watching our exchange with curiosity, and something in me didn’t want him to see this little tête-à-tête.

  “I hate to say it,” I fluttered my hand to my forehead, “but I’m simply exhausted.”

  Freddie straightened up at once. “Of course you are, darling. After your illness and all, I don’t want to tire you out. I hope you’ll let me visit you again tomorrow night?”

  “You’ll be back?” I tried to sound delighted, not distracted by Beau somewhere nearby in the shadows listening.

  “I couldn’t stay away. I meant it when I said I could listen to you sing for the rest of my life. You must know how I feel.”