Wicked White
Page 68

I shake my head and laugh. “You are too much, but thank you.”
Jacob wraps one hand around my shoulders and pulls me into a friendly hug. “You’re welcome, gorgeous. Try not to be so down. You did amazing out there. Don’t let an asshole keep you from enjoying yourself tonight.”
After Jacob leaves me alone at my dressing table, I find myself just staring at the box of roses, wondering about Ace. While I’m still angry with him, I still want him. I just don’t understand why he hasn’t called me. There are so many things that could be worked out between us if he would only give me a chance to explain about what he saw with Shane.
My shoulders slump, and the fire I felt when I first received the flowers morphs into the typical sadness that fills me whenever I allow myself to think about how much I miss Ace.
Everyone for the past few weeks has encouraged me to move on when he didn’t immediately contact me after singing that song on Celebrity Pop Buzz Nightly. I thought for sure he’d want to make up with me after that, but I heard nothing, and that hurt the worst. It made me feel like I meant nothing at all to him. So my friends are all probably right. I need to stop holding on to hope that Ace and I will ever get back together.
My cell buzzes inside my purse with an incoming call. I grab my bag from under the dressing table and fish out my phone before I answer, “What’s up, Birdie?”
“Hey!” she yells into the phone while a crowd mumbles around her. “We’re all out in front of the theater. How much longer will you be? We’re waiting to celebrate with you.”
I glance up at my reflection in the mirror and sigh. “I still have my costume on and all the stage makeup, so it’ll take me some time to get all that off. There’s a little bar and grill a couple blocks away called Sunny’s Place. If you all want to wait on me there, I’ll be down as soon as I get all this crap off.”
“Okay,” she answers. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
I tell my best friend good-bye and then toss my phone back into my purse before I turn my attention to the mirror and begin removing the fifty million pins from my hair.
Stagehands rush back and forth all around me, collecting and organizing all the props for tomorrow’s show. There’s a buzz of excitement in the air, and we all know that we’re a part of something special. Everywhere I look, there are smiles, including on the face of our director, Mark. It takes a lot to impress him, so it’s a great feeling knowing that our production has pleased him.
Mark has been on Broadway for a long time. His graying hair and stoic features give off the appearance of experience. I’ve learned so much from him over the last few weeks, and I’m so grateful that he took a chance on casting an unknown like me.
When he notices me watching him in the mirror, Mark makes his way over to me with his assistant, Shelia, in tow. Over the last few weeks of rehearsal, things have become a little more relaxed around here. Instead of Mr. Talsman, he insists we are all on a first-name basis so we bond as a unit, making everyone more comfortable.
“Iris, can I have a moment?” he asks.
“Sure.” I throw the pin on the table and turn to face him.
He smiles. “The performance you just gave ranks up there with some of the best I’ve ever seen in my twenty years on Broadway.”
Heat floods my cheeks and I can’t fight the grin that stretches across my face. “Really?”
He nods. “I really mean that, and I’m sure once the reviews start popping up about the show, other directors will come knocking on your door. I have a feeling that you’re bound for great things.”
“Mark, your car is here,” Shelia says as she continues to glance down at her phone.
“Okay,” he says to her before turning back in my direction. “Congratulations, Iris. I’ll see you for tomorrow’s performance.”
I fight the urge to squeal like a twelve-year-old girl who has just found out her crush likes her back. That’s the nicest thing Mark’s ever said to me, and it’s boosted my confidence in myself tenfold.
Still floating on cloud nine after I remove all my stage gear, I push through the side door of the theater smiling. I take a deep breath of the crisp evening New York air, and then it instantly whooshes from my lungs the moment I spot a familiar face.
There, standing on the sidewalk, is Ace in a black leather jacket and faded blue jeans. He’s just as sexy as I remember, and that pisses me off. It makes it a whole lot harder to hate him when he looks so good, but that’s not going to stop me from giving him a piece of my mind.
My eyes drift down to the single red rose he’s holding in his hands before they focus on the hopeful expression he’s wearing. Does he honestly think sending me flowers and showing up here on the most important night of my life automatically earns his way back into my good graces?
Gah! This is unbelievable.
I shake my head. “What are you doing here?”
He licks his lips slowly, and damn it, I wish I could say the action disgusts me, but it does just the opposite. It makes me miss his mouth and the crazy way it made me feel when he used to put it on me.
“I came to see you.” He takes a step toward me and holds out the flower. “This is for you.”
I pull my lips into a tight line but refuse to take it from him.
He frowns after I make it obvious that I’m not going to make his apology easy. He hurt me and I don’t know if I can forgive him for it.