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Robbie blinked. “You mean your arrangement with Nadia…”
“I was fired,” Ryan said.
Robbie winced. “Should’ve known with the drinks and all.” Someone down the bar called for a drink, and Robbie wandered off.
Ryan sighed and leaned his elbows on the bar, staring straight ahead. “Atkins fired me, and I just saw red. I don’t even remember leaving; I was suddenly out on the street, walking west. This was the first bar I came across.”
I leaned forward on the bar to get into his peripheral vision. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“But it’s my fault,” I insisted. “You wanted to get to the theater early, and I distracted you.”
Without looking in my direction, he reached down and gave my thigh an appreciative pat. “That distraction was worth it, babe. But it wasn’t why I got fired. I set up the cameras based on the saboteur’s MO up to that point. I didn’t think about other parts of the theater, like the sub-stage.”
“Still, if I hadn’t…”
He finally turned toward me and clamped a heavy palm over my mouth. “It’s seriously not your fault. An extra half hour at the theater wouldn’t have mattered. If you really want to make me feel better, you can drink with me.”
I took the shot glass off the counter and downed it. “I’ll help however I can.”
Robbie refilled our shots and we downed them again. “What a shitshow.”
“The show itself, or the saboteur?” Ryan asked.
“Either. Both. The whole damn thing.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I kind of fucked up,” I admitted.
“Worse than me?”
“Maybe,” I said. “I let it slip to the other dancers about the sandbag trap we disarmed last night.”
Ryan winced and sucked in his breath. “That’s shitty. Atkins told everyone rehearsal was canceled for plumbing repairs.”
“And I revealed his lie. I might end up like you in the next few hours.”
Ryan chuckled. “You’re the backup to Tatiana, who was just injured. He can’t fire you.”
“Tatiana didn’t look that injured to me.”
“Braden thinks she hurt her ACL,” Ryan said. “The ligament in the knee. I think she’s going in for an MRI. Right now, it’s possible the show rests on your shoulders.”
That was a scary thought, although part of me tingled with excitement. “If the show even continues. With Tatiana injured, Vandercant might pull funding entirely.”
Ryan grimaced. “Yeah, that thought crossed my mind too. Was trying to stay positive for you.”
We each downed another shot, and I leaned into his shoulder. “We’ve got this backwards. I’m supposed to be comforting you.” I cleared my throat. “Everything’s gonna be alright. You’ll find another job somewhere else.”
“Yeah right. I’ll probably never work in this town again.”
I scoffed. “Now you’re being as dramatic as Tatiana.”
He twisted to look at me. “The reporter was there. You can bet your ass this story will be in the paper—it’s too juicy to ignore. And then I’ll be scapegoated for the faulty trapdoor, or for overlooking its security. Either way, I’m publicly fucked. Nobody’s gonna want to hire the stage hand who allowed a lead actor to get injured.”
I wanted to disagree with him, but he was right. Theater people were a superstitious bunch. Even if Ryan found a director who took pity on him, the cast of that show would consider him bad luck.
