Wishing in the Wings by Mindy Klasky Read Free Book Online Page A

Jenn had read something online that had made her put the guy on the stalking list. Maybe he could write, put things on the printed page that he couldn’t say in person.
    And maybe I’d discover a brown paper bag on the street, filled with three and a half million dollars.
    Forget it. The Mercer had to pick up something easy to replace Crystal Dreams. Something simple to stage on such short notice. Something in the public domain, so that no copyright lawyers ever darkened my e-mail inbox ever again. Ancient Greek drama, stripped down to a skeleton cast. Shakespeare, performed in modern dress on an empty stage. Not some untried author with an unknown script requiring untold resources.
    I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders. Okay. I could figure out a play later, maybe stop by the public library to review some possibilities. I forbade myself to even think about the shelves and shelves of plays in my inaccessible apartment.
    Next up on the disaster hit parade, then. Clothes. My closet and my dresser were as out-of-bounds as my bookshelves. I took a brief survey of my office, inordinately grateful for my packrat tendencies. Two different gym bags were tossed on the floor. My workout clothes were back in the apartment somewhere, strewn at the bottom of my closet, if I had to make a highly educated guess. The police investigators would have a field day with them.
    I regularly changed into my running clothes here at work, getting exercise on the way home, leaving behind what passed for my professional wardrobe. That meant that I had the clothes on my back and two other outfits to wear.
    I grimaced as I remembered that one of those outfits consisted of a paint-streaked sweatshirt and torn, holey jeans, remnants from a day when I’d come to work ready to pitch in painting a set. So, I had one other outfit—if I had to appear any place dressed as a grownup. Like the police station. Or a court of law.
    Great. No end to the fun. I should throw a party, I was having such a good time.
    Whoops, that reminded me. One more disaster—food.
    At least my starving student days had given me ample practice at stretching a dollar till it tore. First step: taking stock of what I had in storage. I tugged open my desk drawers. Two packets of neon-orange cheese crackers with peanut butter. Half a bag of Hershey’s kisses, wrapped in red, pink, and silver. Happy Valentine’s Day all over again, on sale. A pack of gum that was so old it might crack my teeth if I tried to mangle a piece. I dumped that in the trash. I couldn’t afford to pay a dentist anytime soon.
    So, I wasn’t looking at the breakfast of champions. Or lunch or dinner either. The precious bills in my wallet were going to transform into a frightening amount of ramen noodles. My stomach growled in rebellion, but it still ached too much for me to actually think about eating.
    I glanced at my calendar. We got paid on the fifteenth and the last day of every month. Direct deposit. And it was just my luck that today was the second. Dean had made off with an entire paycheck, and I had almost two full weeks before I’d see another dime of salary. That reminded me—I needed to cancel my direct deposit. I wasn’t about to let the bastard get another penny that belonged to me. I dug out a pay stub, placed another phone call, arranged to receive a live check at the end of the month. While I was at it, I had the bank put a hold on my debit card, issuing me a new one, which Dean would never be able to access.
    And then I was through with errands. There wasn’t anything else I could do. Nothing that could make things better. Nothing that could change what had happened. Nothing that could keep me busy. Nothing.
    Which meant that I had to think about Dean.
    Why hadn’t I seen what he was doing? Why hadn’t I recognized his lying? How desperate had I been to have him, to keep him, to say I had a boyfriend? How had I never realized just how wrong Dean was for me?
    I stifled a sob.
    Later.