“Josh, none of your crushes are innocent.”
He chuckles. “Okay, fine. I want to do bad things to her. But can you blame me? I want to wrap those long legs around me and make her mewl like a kitten.”
“Isn’t she a bit vanilla for your tastes?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. She seems like a perfectly nice girl.”
“Exactly. You don’t date nice girls.”
Josh has a thing for actresses. More specifically, wildly ambitious actresses who are two neuroses short of batshit crazy. His girlfriends tend to have a lot in common with Broadway shows: They’re always high maintenance and filled with drama.
“You’re right,” he says. “I usually prefer girls who challenge me.”
“You say ‘challenge,’ and I hear ‘scare the crap out of.’ ”
“That reminds me—tell me again why you and I have never dated?”
“Because we made out that one time in sophomore year and both thought it was weird as hell.”
“Well, you thought that. I was into it.”
“Oh, please.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Elissa, I don’t know whether you realize this, but you are a smoking-hot female specimen. Yes, I’m your best friend, but I’m also a man. Kissing a chick who looks like Scarlett Johansson’s younger sister is going to give me masculine stirrings. Have no doubt.”
I laugh. I really don’t want to hear about his stirrings, masculine or otherwise. Josh is like my brother. Well, a brother I get along with.
I pat his arm. “Okay, let’s drop the subject. We’re on the clock now. Professional faces, please.”
He nods. “But just to be clear, I can tell you my pornographic fantasies when we get home, right?”
“If you must.”
I turn back to the windows to see Angel stumble in her heels. When Liam pulls her tight against him with a look of concern, the whole crowd “awwws” before getting back to their dedicated screaming.
“I love you, Liam!”
“Sign my arm!”
“Marry me! Pleeeeease!”
“Angel, you’re beautiful!”
They’re right about that. She really is beautiful. While I’m five-three and curvy, she’s tall, svelte, and elegant. My hair is blond and shoulder-length, hers is long, auburn, and looks like she should be appearing in a shampoo commercial. My eyes are basic blue, hers are a striking green. The only thing I have over her is my boobs. Hers may defy gravity, but mine are real.
I grudgingly admit I understand what Liam sees in her. She’s far more in his league than I ever was. Their children will be so genetically blessed they’ll probably develop superpowers.
I watch as Liam and Angel continue to sign autographs and pose for pictures. Every action is accompanied by frenzied squeals. I wonder what it must be like to star in something as huge as Rageheart and have millions of fans all over the world. Liam’s portrayal of the passionate, mostly shirtless demon Zan, who leads a slave uprising and falls in love with the seraph king’s daughter, has ignited countless pairs of panties. I think it’s safe to say he’s the biggest movie star in the world right now.
“Dammit,” Josh says. “Does the chiseled Adonis really have to taint my wife-to-be’s lips like that? It’s gross.”
He’s referring to Liam’s planting of a soft kiss on Angel’s mouth as she leans against him. The bunch of paparazzi that were already snapping up a storm go into a frenzy. Nothing sells more magazines or gets more Web site clicks than pictures of Liam and Angel demonstrating their Epic Love. No doubt an explosion of dollar signs just flashed before the paps’ eyes.
Marco comes to my other side and peers down. “That ‘grossness,’ dear Joshua, is what we’re banking on. Liam and Angel’s rabid fan base will make sure our production is the hottest ticket on Broadway for months. Mark my words.”
Josh nods. “Unless, of course, she recognizes her overwhelming attraction to me during rehearsals, and breaks up with him before we open.”
Marco looks like a vampire who’s been burnt by holy water. “Don’t even joke about that. Any rift between these two would mean disaster for our sales, which is why we must handle both of them with kid gloves. Remember, they’re used to everyone kissing their backsides, so pucker up, kids.”
I sigh. I remember a night when I kissed Liam’s backside. And his front side. And all the parts in between. The memories are so vivid, it’s as if it happened yesterday.
I seriously consider if it’s too late to resign.
Marco puts his arms around me. “Can you feel it, Elissa?”
Yes. Nausea. Anxiety. An overwhelming urge to rush out and buy a one-way ticket to Nepal.
I give him a wan smile. “Oh, I feel it.”
“Theatrical greatness, dear girl. We’re about to create it. Thank you for being my right-hand woman. I couldn’t do this without you.”
So, that’s a no to Nepal, I guess.
I give him a squeeze and then go back to the production desk. My section is impeccably laid out. Script. Pencils. A rainbow of high-lighter pens.
I’m ready.