I WAS sitting in the dressing room, doing my eyes, when JD (short for John David) Conroy walked in, looking much too cheerful considering we were due on stage in less than two hours for our first performance of the umpteenth revival of Grease. His thick, sun-streaked hair stuck up in unruly clumps where he’d been poking it with his fingers, and his blue eyes seemed to absorb light from the bank of bulbs bracketing the mirror as he approached.
Glancing around, he smiled wider. “Perfect timing. No one’s around.” He swung into the chair next to me and leaned forward. “Let’s get together tonight, Kel. Get drunk and fool around.”
I couldn’t help laughing. Since the first day of rehearsal, he’d been flirting with me outrageously but I kept holding him off. He was too damned attractive, too fucking sexy, and I had to put the play first. “There are one hundred reasons why we should never get together.”
“Yeah?” He looked interested. “You cared enough to make a list?”
And too smart by half. “I’ve got a list.”
“What’s number two?”
“A personal relationship could adversely affect our working relationship.”
“That’s number two, huh?”
I nodded and at that moment, Nomi Marcus entered the room. She played a bountiful, effervescent Sandy in our production. “Hi, guys. I threw up twice already. That usually means the play’s gonna be a hit.”
“You have your personal vomit-o-meter?” Giving me a sidelong humorous look, he said for my ears only, “Can’t wait to hear the others.” Standing, he goosed Nomi with a sharp laugh and headed for the coffee pot.
I watched him in the mirror, noting the quick, graceful way he moved, and felt my mouth go dry. I can’t, I just can’t let him get close to me. It would fuck up everything.
Nomi stepped up behind me, resting her hands on my shoulders. “More kohl around the eyes, babe.”
Nodding, I added more shadow, going to my happy place.
