* * *
Our last night party ended up being more like a breakfast. The police questioning took most of the night and all of us had to provide a statement. Tired, but determined not to break any sacred theater traditions, we all gathered at Lori’s place as originally planned, to drink to the success of our latest production, hail the performances of Goose Meadow Bay’s finest Players and tidy up the last of Hamish’s stash of liquor.
Creme de menthe turned out to reasonably good. “Needs a little something, though,” I said to Nick, not entirely convinced.
“How about some dry ginger ale?” he suggested.
He ducked as someone threw a handful of peanuts at his head and three plastic cups were tossed in his direction.
Bill had confessed to losing his mind with jealousy. Marlene and Leon moving in together had just been the last straw for him. I had watched him as Steele sat him down in the props room after the curtain had fallen and we waited for police back up to arrive. Bill had looked a little surprised at all the fuss and kept staring at his hands as if he wasn’t sure what’d they done.
I thought the guy was probably just lonely and I wondered if I could feel sorry for him
Steele took the drink out of my hand and replaced it with a plate of bacon and eggs, fried tomatoes on the side. Lori had been cooking.
“It’s seven in the morning,” he said. “Don’t you theater people ever sleep?” He sat down on the sofa beside me.
“Nup,” said Ben, cheerfully. He settled down on the sofa opposite with a plate of hash browns and bacon. Hamish was still on the beer and was picking idly through a bowl of peanuts. Nick was playing some Billy Joel gently on the piano in the corner. “And it’s not ‘you theater people’ anymore, Steele.”
Steele gave him a blank look.
I felt Steele’s arm resting on the back on the sofa and pulled it down so it wrapped around my shoulders. I snuggled into his side and poked him playfully in the ribs.
“Told you we’d get you involved in the theater one way or another,” I said, smugly.
Hamish reached over and clinked his beer bottle against Steele’s. “Just didn’t think you’d be so eager for the limelight you’d jump onstage roaring your head off during final bows.”
Steele frowned. “I wasn’t roaring,” he protested.
“Like a Trojan,” said Nick from the piano.
“I wasn’t...”
“Enjolras,” said Hamish.
“Don Quixote,” said Nick.
“Miles Gloriosus,” said Ben.
“I have no idea what you people are talking about.”
“Like a god,” grinned Ben, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “of the theater. And you got a standing ovation for your first onstage appearance! Three hundred people saw that, Steele. You won’t be able to walk down the street. You’re definitely one of us now.”
“Welcome to showbiz,” I said, smiling. Steele didn’t look too unhappy about it.
“Welcome to the Goose Meadow Bay Players,” Ben said grandly.
~ The End ~
A Note From The Author
This is the third book of the Stage Door series. I plan to write many more books about the Goose Meadow Bay Players – some romances, some cozy mysteries.
You can find out more about my books at www.LilianWatts.com where you can also join my newsletter. You’ll hear about new releases, have access to exclusive short fiction and hear of some of my own experiences in the crazy world of community theater.
This book has been through several edits with many different people, but no one is perfect. If your eagle eyes catch a typo I’d be very grateful if you could let me know. You can contact me at
[email protected] Author website: https://www.LilianWatts.com
Amazon Kindle Author Page: https://amazon.com/author/lilianwatts
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/LilianWatts
Also by Lilian Watts
Stage Door – Playing Dead (A theatrical cozy mystery)
Stage Door – Love’s Theater (A theatrical romance in three acts)
Copyright
This is a work of fiction.
All names, places and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real names, places or events are purely coincidental and should not be construed as being real.
Stage Door: A Cue to a Kill
Copyright © 2015
Lilian Watts
www.lilianwatts.com
All Rights Reserved
No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner without the express written permission of the author.
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