Chapter Four
“What a mess,” Penny groaned as she pulled up a seat at the bar between Marc and the leading man, Chris. She took a long pull on her cider before continuing her complaint. “How on earth are we going to pull that all together before opening night?”
Marc gave her a wry smile. As did Chris.
When Chris smiled, the sun shone brighter, and flowers opened, and rainbows and unicorns appeared and “Good Day Sunshine” played from some unknown source. Penny was always dazzled by it. Until she met him, Penny had never understood how you could be bedazzled by a smile.
“Well, at least we’re getting the lines right,” he replied. “Most of them anyway.” He grimaced and turned back to his beer, ducking his head. Even pulling faces, Chris looked like a blond, Greek god.
It was a crying shame for the entire world female population that Chris was openly and solidly gay.
Penny laughed. It was the first time she had laughed all day, and it felt good. “Well, there’s that, I suppose. But what with disappearing hankies and Becca’s phone somehow ending up on the props table, and those slow changes…”
“How did Becca’s phone end up in the props?” asked Marc, his brow furrowed. “She swears she didn’t take it out of her bag.”
“No idea,” replied Penny.
“Maybe, it was the theater ghost,” Chris said in a sepulchral tone. Penny and Marc rolled their eyes at him.
“Ghost?”
Penny’s shoulders slumped. Cerise’s sharp ears had picked up on their conversation and now she and her minions were crowding around Chris. And while it had provided Penny and Marc many hours of amusement to watch Chris trying to make a clueless Cerise understand that he wasn’t into women, tonight Penny just didn’t want to listen to the girl’s irritating Disney princess voice.
“Bullshit.” Marc’s confident tones rang out over them. “There’s no ghost.”
“Are you sure of that?” Chris said. “I’ve heard stories of paintings jumping off walls…”
Marc snorted. “It just wasn’t hung properly.”
“…of eerie footsteps…”
“It’s an old building. It creaks.”
“… of whistling heard when no one else is there…”
“The wind.”
“…and then tonight. Things disappearing and reappearing in other places…”
Marc nearly spat out his beer. “Seriously? You’re going to turn that into a ghost story?”
“Sounds spooky,” Cerise said with a shiver, putting a hand on Chris’ arm. “Have you seen the ghost, Chris?”
“Me? No,” he muttered, pulling his arm out from under Cerise’s to grab his drink. Penny and Marc exchanged an amused glance, before being surprised by another voice.
“I have.” They were joined by Jane, who had walked up behind Marc, a glass of Semillon sauvignon blanc in her manicured hand.
“Yeah?” It was Marc who replied, disbelief coloring his tone.
“Yep,” Jane replied. “I was at the theater painting a set. It was getting a bit late and only the stage lights were on. I saw a figure in the shadows, clear as a bell. Scared the living daylights out of me.” She chuckled at the remembrance.
Despite herself, Penny shivered. Jane was practical, not really prone to flights of fancy. “What did you do?”
“I turned every single light on in the entire place.”
She laughed, then crooked a finger and leaned in, and everyone else leaned in too, as if Jane was about to tell them a secret. “They say it’s the ghost of Edwin Turner, who owned the house that the theater was built around. He hung himself after being accused of theft.” Jane sat back, a satisfied glint in her eye. Penny recalled fondly that Jane had always been able to work an audience.
This time, Cerise shivered. “The old parts of the theater are spooky. I hope I never run into the ghost. I’d scream the place down.”
“I bet you would,” muttered Chris. Cerise smiled at him fondly. He turned away from her and rolled his eyes. Penny had to quickly turn a gurgle of laughter into a cough.
“Well, if he is going to hang around, I hope he keeps his hands to himself,” said Marc. “We don’t need more things going walkabout backstage.”
Cerise gasped. “You mean you think that’s what happened to the handkerchief?”
“No, I do not. I think you picked it up and then put it back down and forgot you’d done it.” Penny grinned when she saw Cerise give Marc a filthy look, which he met with a sweet smile. He drank down the last of his pint and said, “I don’t know about you guys, but I have to work tomorrow, so I think I’ll call it a night.”
Penny glanced at her drink and was surprised to find she had emptied it. “I’ll go with you, if you don’t mind.”
“Why would I mind?”
Penny ducked her head and saw the ghost of a smile cross Jane’s face. When she couldn’t decipher it, she gave Jane a puzzled glance. But Jane’s expression had returned to normal.
Saying their goodbyes, Penny and Marc picked up their bags and headed for the door.
It was cool and quiet outside. The only sounds were the dim buzzing of the carpark lights, and the crunch of their shoes against the asphalt as they walked. Approaching Penny’s car, she and Marc didn’t talk. Penny wondered what Marc was thinking about. She didn’t need to wonder for long.
“That chest pain you had?”
She heard the hesitation in his voice, saw the way he thrust his hands into his jeans pockets and hunched his shoulders. He seemed unsure if he should talk about it. Penny preferred that he didn’t, but since he had started the conversation, she should let him have his say.
“Yeah?”
“I’m worried about you.”
Despite his words, Penny had to smile. “Aw. Thanks.” She nudged him gently with her elbow and in the yellowed light of the carpark she was pleased to see a slight smile cross his face as well. But he continued with his serious words.
“No, I mean it. You should see a doctor to make sure it’s not your heart or something.”
She sniffed. “I don’t have time to go to the doctors. Besides, it was nothing. Just… I don’t know, a blip.”
They reached Penny’s car and Marc turned to face her. “Seriously, Pen, that kind of stuff - chest pains and sweats and things - that screams heart attack to me.”
“But I’m fine now.” With a smile, she put a hand up to cradle Marc’s cheek, and forced him to look into her eyes. She was conscious of the tenderness of the gesture, but she needed to reassure him she was okay, that he didn’t need to worry. “If it was a heart attack, I’d still be on the floor in the wings.”
“Pen.” Marc’s voice was a harsh whisper, and he turned his head, his lips resting in her palm. His eyes closed, and his brows drew together. She saw his chest rise and fall quickly. Penny realised with rising alarm that her gesture had affected him more than she expected it to.
But his velvet lips and the scrape of a day’s beard growth against her palm kept her from saying anything, his uneven breath warming her fingers before dissolving in the night air too intoxicating to ask him to stop. Penny tumbled from one thought to another - should she tell him to stop? It felt so good letting him continue, letting his lips and his breath electrify every nerve ending in her body. There had always been a current between them - Penny could admit to that. But they had never acted on it. Perhaps they should have. But Marc was a player. Everyone knew that. And Pen wasn’t interested in a player.
Marc must have felt her shiver through her fingers, or perhaps he heard the shuddering breath she released. He grasped her hand, taking it away from his face and holding it loosely between them. His eyes burned into Penny’s—in the half-light, they looked almost black, glinting with blue fire from within. Spellbound in his gaze, Penny was acutely aware of his lips descending toward hers and she tilted her head to receive the kiss.
“Pen, I…”
A burst of conversation and laughter followed a group of tipsy people out of the door of the tavern, breaking the spell. Penny dropped Marc’s hand and took a step away. Both were breathing shallowly, and Penny knew Marc’s hungry gaze was matched in her own expression.
But even as her heart told her to go for it, her brain told her it wasn’t a good idea. Not only because of his philandering ways.
Penny just didn’t do well with guys. Not since… well, not ever, really. She didn’t seem to be able to take that step, the one that cemented the relationship for the long term. And she didn’t want to start something with Marc that might end shortly and badly. Their friendship meant too much, and Penny loved working backstage with Marc - and that would be uncomfortable and awkward as hell if they broke up.
Her thoughts whirling, she gave Marc a tentative smile, hoping that the pleading expression in her eyes was enough to make him drop the subject. “Goodnight Marc,” she said softly, knowing that she should say more, but not knowing how to articulate her thoughts.
As she turned to her car, Marc said, “Pen, wait,” stepping in and closing the car door even as she opened it. His arm stretched out beside her, lightly resting on the car, his bicep brushing against her arm, his warmth against her back.
“Don’t,” was all she needed to whisper, even though she longed to say more, wished she had the guts to say, “Kiss me,” or “Let’s make out in the backseat.” He let his arm drop away from the door, and Penny opened it, climbing quickly into the driver’s seat. She started the engine and drove away, not looking at Marc for fear that she might see something in his face to make her change her mind.
He didn’t deserve someone like her.
Marc watched the taillights of her car disappear down the dark street, his thoughts in turmoil.
Penny was an enigma to Marc. On one hand, she was friendly and sunny, but there were times when she thought nobody was looking where she would drop her agreeable and sociable face and at those times, Marc had seen something more in her - something maybe sad or tragic. It was always gone an instant after he saw it, but it intrigued him.
Penny was the only girl he had seriously wanted to get to know since… well, for ages.
To begin with, Marc had thought it would be easy. He’d just turn on the charm, and she would cave. That had always worked for him in the past. Then again, those other girls were just in it for the short term. Which had suited him just fine at the time.
But Pen was different. Oh, he could tell that she liked him, and that she enjoyed spending time with him. But she wasn’t going to jump into bed with him. And she wasn’t going to let her secrets out to just anybody.
Marc thought it must be the potential that kept his interest. Not that he was a rabid stalker or anything. He saw Pen at the theater, and afterward if they all went for a drink at the pub. Sometimes he met up with her when their friend groups crossed paths on the weekends.
He was afraid for her, when she had her attack that evening, and had almost called an ambulance even when she told him not to. People died of heart attacks all the time - young, healthy people could just drop dead in an instant. He thought she was crazy not to get it checked into right away.
And her reaction just now when he had shown her his feelings for her, his fear for her - that was something else. She felt it. He was sure she did. The electricity or the chemistry or whatever it was. That was something that needed more exploration. A slight smile crossed Marc’s face. It was something to be explored, and Marc, for his part, looked forward to exploring it. He whistled as he made his way to his own car.