except on paper, for years.”
“Which would explain why your girlfriend is here, too,” Lindsey said.
“You’ve been researching me,” Robbie said. He grinned at her as if pleased. “That means you’re interested.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Lindsey said. “It means you have a lot of fans in town who want to know about you, and as the librarian, I get to do their research for them.”
“Well, your research is out of date,” Robbie said. “My girlfriend and I broke up ages ago.”
“And yet she’s playing Hermia, while your wife plays Helena. Given Shakespeare’s love triangle between Hermia and Lysander and Demetrius, which is then complicated by Helena, wouldn’t it make more sense for you to play Lysander or Demetrius?” she asked.
“But I’m such a Robin Goodfellow,” he said.
“And you all get along while doing the show?” Lindsey asked.
“Of course; we’re professionals,” he said. He took another long sip off of his water bottle, and Lindsey noticed it was a special brand of coconut water. So Hollywood.
“Robbie!” Violet’s voice called from the stage. “We need you!”
“Sorry, love,” he said. “Duty calls, but we can finish this discussion later.”
Lindsey shook her head. She loved how he didn’t phrase it in the form of a question. Before she could call him on it, he was gone.
She continued searching the shelves and had put aside a good amount of materials for the donkey’s head mask when she heard raised voices outside of the closet.
It did not sound as if it were a part of the play. In fact, it had all the intensity of an argument, and she hesitated to leave the storage room and walk into the middle of an awkward situation.
She cleared her throat, hoping that whoever was out there would hear her. No such luck. Their voices were even louder now, drowning out any attempt she made to be heard.
“You just couldn’t keep your hands off of her, could you?” a voice hissed. It was a man’s voice and Lindsey tried to place it—not that she was eavesdropping, she told herself. She was trapped in a closet. It wasn’t her fault if they chose to argue beside it.
“I never touched your wife, you nutter.”
Lindsey recognized this voice as belonging to Robbie. The accent sort of gave him away.
“Oh, really?” the voice asked. “Then why has she been coming home late from the Blue Anchor every night, reeking of a man’s cologne?”
“I really couldn’t say, Brian,” Robbie said, sounding sympathetic. “Perhaps you should ask her.”
Brian. Lindsey realized the man accusing Robbie of cheating with his wife was Brian Loeb, the man, ironically, cast as Nick Bottom, whom she was making the donkey’s head for.
“I don’t need to ask her,” Brian said. “Ever since you arrived in town, all she ever talks about is Robbie Vine this and Robbie Vine that. She’s obsessed with you.”
Robbie chuckled, which Lindsey did not think was his best move at this juncture. And she was right.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me!” Brian snapped. “I know you’re having an affair with Brandy and when I can prove it, I am going to crush you like a little bug right under my shoe.”
“Oh, are you now?” Robbie asked. Now he sounded mad.
If he was innocent of cheating, Lindsey couldn’t really blame him. She tried to picture what Brian’s wife looked like but could not place her. The Loebs weren’t library users as a rule, so she’d only just met Brian when play rehearsals began. If his wife was hanging out at the Blue Anchor, however, Lindsey was sure Mary or Ian could describe her.
“Now, let me be clear,” Robbie said. “When you realize it is not me who is frolicking in the daisies with your wife, I’m going to demand an apology.”
“Pah!” Brian scoffed. “I’m not some stupid female who is going to fall for your charm. When I catch you with my wife, I’m going to—”
“What?” Robbie taunted him. “You’re going to what?”
“Kill you,”