please tell that production assistant person I need some Diet Dr. Pepper. I’m already exhausted after that scene out there. I mean, really, what is with all that attitude?”
“Certainly, Ms. Dubois, but you understand they’re just nervous. They’re only children, for heaven’s sake.”
“Yeah, well, they aren’t the only nervous ones, I’ll tell you. Do I look like a theater director to you? I belong on TV, with a camera in front of me, not behind the curtain trying to get a bunch of wild animals to stand in their spots and remember their lines. Let’s just be honest—I don’t wanna be here any more than they want me here.”
“Oh, please don’t feel that way. It will all work out just fine,” Betty Ann said, though Dallas could see the doubt written all over her face. “Now, I’ll get Corey to get your drink and we should get started.”
“Great. Thanks.” Dallas smiled weakly and exhaled a deep breath. Her stomach was in knots, but she was careful not to let anyone see that. She was totally on edge with her job on the line and that made it tough for her to be sweet to anyone.
* * *
Cal sat up in the sound booth, adjusting the speaker levels and fiddling with live mic feeds, and trying to figure out how’d he’d managed to find himself working side by side with none other than Dallas Dubois.
He’d always found Dallas attractive—how could you not? With that gorgeous hair, bright blue eyes and curves that should be illegal in most states, Dallas was basically a fantasy on legs.
Not that he was all that that bad himself. He’d been told he was gorgeous by plenty of people all his life, but it never really seemed to sink in. He wasn’t a loud braggart like a lot of athletes he’d known in college. He was more reserved. And he was often single.
What no one knew, except maybe Lewis, who had been Cal’s best friend in both high school and college, was that he was an over-the-top perfectionist. It wasn’t that he was judgmental about the people he dated—it was more that he was tough on himself. He had always been afraid of failing at a relationship, so he’d never got too serious with any one girlfriend.
His grades, however, had been spectacular. He’d pushed himself so hard that it had cut down on his participation in the wild social life that his other friends had enjoyed. Cal was an academic. He took everything super seriously and had gotten his doctorate in computer science by the time he was twenty-six. He had been the star quarterback for the Crimson Tide, leading them to a National Championship in his senior year. He was tough on himself.
That’s why he had never married. Not that all the gorgeous beauty queens and coeds couldn’t measure up. No. Cal was terrified of failing. His two older brothers had great marriages. His parents had been married for well over forty years. He looked at their success, and he realized he wasn’t sure he could ever be that great at it. He’d never met anyone who’d made him feel the things his brothers claimed to feel about their own wives. And he’d always been so focused on school and sports that he couldn’t even imagine having enough time left over to properly devote to another person. The last thing he wanted was to let anyone see that he wasn’t good enough. For Cal, failure at anything was not an option. Growing up, the minute he thought a relationship might not work forever, he ran. Now, at thirty-four, he still found himself more invested in work than in women.
From his spot in the sound booth, he could oversee some of the action on the stage below. And thanks to live mics, he could hear everything being said. Just now, he could hear Corey, the young production assistant, bringing Dallas her drink.
“Here you go, Ms. Dubois,” he said cheerfully.
Cal watched Dallas take the drink from him with a slight nod of her head. “Thanks, and make sure you stay close with that clipboard of yours. I can’t possibly write and talk at the same time.”
“I’ll do my best,” Corey said, though his mood had clearly been taken down a notch.
It made Cal sick to hear her unfriendly treatment of everyone. Her bossy behavior, flinging orders around as if she was throwing rice at a wedding, like this was just business as usual for her. As far as Cal knew, it was. This was the Dallas he’d always known. Cold, selfish and self-absorbed. It had been the reason why, despite how attracted he was to her, he’d never made an attempt to pursue her.
When rehearsal was over, and he was packing up the equipment for the day, he heard Dallas backstage as she gathered her things. Corey had run up the side stairs to say good-night. He knew he should turn off the mic, that he really shouldn’t listen in, but curiosity got the better of him.
“Okay, Ms. Dubois,” he heard Corey say. “That’s it for tonight. Need anything ’fore I leave?”
“No, that’s fine. Can I see your notes from today?”
“Oh, um, well...I didn’t really take notes. Nothing really changed, so I didn’t really have any...”
“God, are you an idiot, too? Why do I always work with idiots? I asked you to take notes of everything we did today.”
“Oh, I’m, uh...sorry, Ms. Dubois, but we didn’t really do anything but run over what we were already doing in the show. But, um...if you want, I can type up something and email it to you.”
“Just forget it. I’ll make up the notes myself. Next time just follow my directions.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
Corey was a theater student at Alabama, and his professor was the flu-ridden Ms. Fairbanks, and Cal could bet he was really going to miss her not being at the Bama Theatre every day.
He’d heard about all he could take. He left the sound booth and headed down to the stage, running into Dallas as she headed back up the aisle to meet her ride outside.
“You are really something else. I can’t believe you,” he said, stopping right in front of her, his hands folded in front of him.
“Excuse me? I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I have to be back at the station for the newscast so I’m in a hurry.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are. But you need to hear a few things before you speed off to your high falutin’ TV job.”
At well over six feet tall, Cal towered over Dallas—despite the impossibly high heels she was wearing. He used his size to his advantage now, looking down at Dallas with disapproval.
“You haven’t changed a bit since high school. Some of us actually grew up but not you. You’re still just as full of yourself as you always were.”
“What the hell do you mean?” Dallas fought back. “You have no idea the stress I’m under. I don’t need this crap. You don’t know anything about me, Cal. You never did.”
“Well, there’s certainly no excuse to talk to everybody like they need to serve you. That’s disgusting.”
“Cal, I’m late. If you don’t like what you heard, then quit eavesdropping and turn the mics off when the conversation doesn’t concern you. Now, if you’ll kindly move out of my way, I have a newscast to get to.” Her face was red with anger and, Cal hoped, a little embarrassment at being called out.
He stepped aside, and she walked past
