Page 14 of New Orleans Rush

“Huxley?”

They all turned at Bea’s intrusion. She had a musical voice—innocent in its higher pitch, breathy when questioning. Like now. The boys took their cue, heading to their dressing rooms with a promise to think on their woes. Huxley needed more hours in his day.

He had to speak with a contractor, scrape together cash for a deposit, then scrounge for the rest over the next month, while practicing counting cards and shuffling before his next poker game, all while training his new assistant. Exhaustion overtook him.

He joined Beatrice on the edge of the stage, close in their quiet corner. “You bailed on your training.” He’d rather tell her how her enthusiasm had added life to his shoddy theater, but the words stayed packed under his troubles.

She fiddled with the hem of her polka dot top. “Last night was obviously rough for me, and I think I was emotionally drained. It won’t happen again. But thanks for covering me with the blanket, assuming it was you who did that.”

“It was.” He was also the one who’d invaded her privacy, unable to tear his eyes from the slight part of her lips as she’d dozed. He wanted to ask if she was feeling better, but he didn’t want to speak. He wanted to listen and let her sweet voice blanket his worries.

She did just that. “I loved your show. I mean, the cape was spectacular, as I knew it would be. The top hat as well. But sawing Fox, the fire and the doves, and the way you all worked the stage—it was mesmerizing. I haven’t had this much fun in, well…ever. I hope you know how stupendously magical you are.”

“Stupendously magical?”

“The most stupendous.”

He stepped closer, feeling like he was walking on air. A magic trick he’d never performed. “Are you still afraid to be on stage?”

She nibbled on her glossy lip. “Yes? But the crowd wasn’t quite what I was expecting. I’m willing to give it a shot.”

The reminder of the meager crowd renewed his worries, and his briskness. “We have the next two days to rehearse, then we’re upping the shows from five days a week to six. I’ll ease you into things as much as possible, but you’ll need to work hard. The more personal flair you add, the better.”

She twirled on the spot. “I can do flair.” But she glanced toward the auditorium and paled. Abruptly, she sneezed. A sharp, high-pitched chirp.

Even her sneezes were sweet. “Bless you.”

“Thank you,” she said, but her eyes were unnaturally wide.

Her stage fright, he surmised. He couldn’t afford to pay an assistant, and Fox filling in reduced his brother to testy tantrums. Beatrice and her fears would have to do. “Your car’s across the street,” he said. “Near Odel’s Grocery. But you can use my parking spot in the back tomorrow. Rehearsal starts at ten a.m. It’ll just be us. Fox and Axel will join us Tuesday, same time. Don’t be late.”

She studied her shiny pink shoes, toes knocked together, like she was delaying her departure. “Tomorrow it is,” she said eventually, walking backward. “I’m rooming with a friend who lives close, so I can practically roll out of bed and land on stage. The timing shouldn’t be a problem.” She punctuated the comment with a cheeky smirk.

He nodded, still preferring listening over talking.

“You, however, shouldn’t be late,” she said.

“I’m never late.”

“You were this morning.”

“First time in my life.” Because he’d sat in her car, studying her peculiar paintings, surrounding himself with her watermelon sweetness.

She flicked a hand, dismissing the comment. “Liar.”

A liar, Huxley Marlow most certainly was not. “Shall we bet?”

She stopped abruptly, all teasing leaching from her face. “I don’t bet.”

“Even if I make it worth your while?” He shouldn’t be goading her. Or was he flirting? Something else he shouldn’t do when he’d been abrupt more often than kind with her. But, hell, she was beautiful. Unique with her fifties flair and glowing innocence. He’d told her as much when they’d met, but nothing had gone according to plan since.

She didn’t smile or return his feeble flirting. “I don’t bet,” she said crisply. “Ever.”

6

“I’m sorry, did you say fifteen thousand dollars?” Huxley paced the sidewalk, unable to still his pulse or dizzying momentum.

Trevor snapped his measuring tape closed. “I’d never gouge you, Hux. But I gotta pay my guys, and there’s a shit-ton of work here. If my last job didn’t get canceled, I wouldn’t even be saying yes.”