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But that third act was a shit show, and I was seriously irritated. I didn’t blame Betty. It happened to all actors, but I couldn’t help being pissed at how we’d bungled it.
All I wanted to do was crawl backstage, change, and go home. It had been the worst ending to a seriously shitty day. I caught Betty glancing at me, but I was already greeting audience members.
A few of the season ticket-holders walked up and praised us. They were being overly kind.
“Fabulous job, son!” My mother stepped up and hugged me.
“Thanks, Mom.”
I could’ve walked out drunk on stage, split my pants, and vomited in a potted plant, and she would’ve told me the same thing. She was my mom.
“That was fucking hilarious,” said Hale.
“Watch your language,” Mom hissed at him, checking to see if anyone overheard.
My father looked around, brooding, probably wishing he was at home in his office, calculating some bullshit.
“Wasn’t it great, Peter?”
“Yeah, yeah. Good job,” he added, obviously begrudgingly.
I glanced to my right, seeing Betty standing too far away from me, obviously beating herself up over freezing on stage and skipping a part of the scene. I grabbed her hand and tugged her over. She frowned but came anyway.
“Mom and Dad, I’d like you to meet Betty Mouton.”
“It is so nice to meet you,” my mother gushed, practically floating on air.
I hadn’t brought a girl home in a long while, and it was no secret that she wanted me married and settled.
“So nice to meet both of you.” Betty smiled tightly and shook their hands, but I could see the anguish behind her politeness. “I hope you liked the show. Even if I screwed up the last act.”
“Oh, we didn’t notice a thing,” Mom assured her. “You were amazing, so beautiful up there. You both were too adorable on stage.”
Betty smiled at my Mom, but I could tell she was upset.
“Well, you need to come to the house soon,” Mom told her. “Maybe for a Sunday dinner.”
Betty nodded her head, playing shy. She wasn’t shy.
“So nice to meet you,” she said again.
Then my stomach dropped as I saw the next person maneuvering through the crowd toward me. Mandy. Of all the people to be in the audience tonight, she was the worst.
“Hey, Mrs. Broussard!” She patted my Mom’s arm and went in for a hug.
Of course, Mom hugged her right back. She knew Mandy from all the shows we’d been in together.
“Hi, Mandy. So good to see you!”
While they exchanged pleasantries, I glanced at Betty whose expression was a mixture of pain, anger, and misery.
Mandy turned to me and gripped my bicep, giving me her sexy smile. “Great performance, Ben.”
I hated it when she used that nickname. Only my family ever used it.
“Thanks. Glad you could come,” I replied coolly.
Mandy’s smug expression said it all. She enjoyed watching us fuck up on stage. It only proved to her that she should’ve gotten the part, which was bullshit of course. Betty had one bad night. She was still the perfect person as the lead.
