THE END OF the week couldn’t come quick enough for Hudson.
Usually, he dreaded weekends for the simple fact he worked long hours at the theatre followed by busy nights at the club.
This weekend would be different.
He had a date lined up with Mak, a step back in time, that he hoped would solidify what he already knew.
They were frigging great together.
Being a couple hadn’t interfered with their work. If anything, her dancing had moved to a new level, filled with a passion and grace found lacking in many on stage these days. Or maybe he was just biased and saw sensuousness in her every move considering they’d spent every night this week wrapped in each other’s arms.
He couldn’t get enough and, thankfully, the feeling was entirely mutual.
‘Hey, Hudson, how’s it hanging?’ The booming voice of Reg Grober, Sydney’s leading backer of every single show to hit Australian shores, rang out across the stage as the tall, grey-haired power broker strode towards him. ‘Unearthed any stars lately?’
Hudson had gained something of a reputation over the last few years for taking unknown talent and casting them in well-known stage musicals, only to find their star taking off. He prided himself on his eye for talent and was proud to call Reg a friend.
He might have a great job managing Embue and knew he could always count on his bestie Tanner, but he’d learned from a young age that jobs weren’t always rock solid and people weren’t always dependable. He viewed Reg as a security blanket, a contact that could come in handy one day if the bottom of his world ever fell out, as it had before.
‘I’ve got a new show starting next week at the nightclub I manage. Some great performers there. You should come see.’ He shook Reg’s hand when he stuck it out. ‘Let me know which night and I’ll leave your name on the door.’
‘I might just do that.’ Reg gestured around the empty theatre. ‘Can’t believe we’ve had a sell-out here for the duration. Who knew people liked musicals about Aussie icons at the beach?’
‘Whatever you touch turns to gold, mate.’
Reg acknowledged the compliment with a broad grin. ‘Speaking of gold, know any outstanding dancers? I’m involved in a start-up on Broadway and one of the chorus busted her leg. We need someone good to start over there in a month.’
Hudson’s heart pounded in his chest, making him oddly breathless. He knew a dancer, one of the best, whose dream was to star on Broadway.
However, when he’d told her he might have contacts to help her get there he’d never anticipated it would be so soon.
If he put Mak’s name forward, she could leave him in a month.
Four short weeks.
And they’d be over before they’d really begun.
For a long moment, he considered lying. But this was Mak and he couldn’t do it to her, no matter how selfish he was and wanted to keep her to himself for a little longer.
‘I do know someone. She’d be perfect.’
Reg beamed. ‘Great. We’ll be auditioning in a week so I’ll send you the details.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘And I’ll make sure to be completely unbiased, even though I know that anyone you send me will have an automatic walk-up role.’
‘Thanks, Reg.’ Hudson shook his hand again and waved the clipboard in his free one. ‘Got to get back to work.’
‘Sure thing, I’ll leave you to it.’
As Reg walked away, Hudson knew he should call Mak and share the good news. He delved into his pocket, pulled out his cell and brought up her name. However, his thumb hovered on the call button as a host of unwelcome thoughts flooded him.
Once she found out, would she end this thing between them now to focus on her big break?
Would she stay with him for the next few weeks out of obligation, as a thank-you for getting her the job?
Or the biggie, if he laid it all on the line, would she still leave him regardless?
Hudson hated secrets. He’d grown up with them. Keeping his father’s alcoholism from the schoolteachers and welfare workers. Watching men cheat on their wives in the strip clubs. Seeing women whoring. A world of secrets that festered and left him feeling tainted because of it.
He couldn’t keep this secret from Mak to suit his own ends.
He glared at her name on the screen, clutching the cell so tight he wouldn’t have been surprised if it cracked.
He would tell her.
He had to tell her.
Later.
Hating himself, he slipped the phone back in his pocket and focussed on ensuring this production went off without a hitch, unable to shake the feeling that in making all Mak’s dreams come true he was ruining his.