Every Time with a Highlander Read Free

Juliet, our fair, doomed Capulet.” Lady Velopar drew herself to full thespian readiness as if turning over an Austin 10 that hadn’t been started since before the war. “‘Come, vial,’” she said, sweeping her arm through the air. “‘What if this mixture do not work at all?’” After a pause so long that Michael worried she’d suffered a stroke, Lady Velopar shook off her dramatic fugue and clapped her gloves into her palm. “An unhappy ending all around, this one is.”
    â€œActually,” Michael said, “if I can’t find someone to play Friar Laurence and give Juliet the poison, we may have the first Romeo and Juliet that ends with a happily married couple on our hands.”
    As if on cue, the actress playing Juliet flounced off the stage and came to a stop in front of Michael. “‘Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged,’” she said in a fair imitation of her leading man. “Yeah, well, tell that jackass if I have to purge the taste of bloody lamb vindaloo from my lips one more time, I’m going to bite off his leathery old tongue.” She swiped at her mouth and added, “Isn’t Romeo supposed to be under forty?”
    â€œHis Oscar is the reason we’re packing them in like cordwood, you know,” Michael said politely as she stomped off. “Best Ingenue, York Regional Theatre, doesn’t draw like you’d think it might.”
    â€œFriar Laurence,” Eve reminded him forcefully.
    Michael sighed.
    â€œIs there liquor in the lounge?” Lady Velopar asked.
    â€œGod, I hope so.”
    â€œWe’ll wait for you there then.” The women floated off like mist on the Thames.
    â€œJoy.” He turned to Eve. “Any chance you know the lines?”
    â€œI know all the lines,” she said, then lowered her voice to a whisper and pointed beyond the curtain. “I just can’t say them in front of the audience .”
    A stage manager with stage fright. Perfect. “How bad is it?”
    â€œRandom jabbering followed by hyperventilation, dry heaving, and tears.”
    â€œWow. And you’re sure you’re not an actress?” He patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We shan’t throw you to the wolves. You’re the only sane one left.” He was glad he’d recommended her for the role of managing director. She was a dependable island of calm in an ever-stormy sea. His only regret was he wouldn’t be there to see her surprise when she heard the news.
    â€œMr. Kent, I don’t want to rush you, but we have”—she held up a finger to hear the lines onstage—“exactly two minutes and fifteen seconds before Friar Laurence makes his entrance.” She looked at the ball of burlap in her arms, then back at him with a hopeful smile.
    Oh Christ.
    â€œYou were an actor,” she said.
    He took the priest’s habit and unfurled it. “A thousand years ago.”
    â€œYou played Romeo. You won an Olivier for it.”
    â€œI played Mercutio too. And Benvolio,” he said. “And the nurse once in sixth form. But that was all before I realized I hated acting and actors, and became a director so I could kick their bloody arses.”
    â€œ Michael ,” snarled his Juliet, who’d returned even angrier. “There are two old harridans in my dressing room drinking the last of my gin. You know how I look forward to my gin.”
    â€œTake Stuart’s dressing room,” he said, tearing his shirt buttons loose and kicking off his loafers. “And one of those old harridans pays your salary. So button your lip and drown yourself in cheap whiskey like the rest of us.”
    She stormed off.
    â€œDo you know the lines?” Eve asked.
    â€œOf course I bloody know the lines.” He threw the shirt under the soundboard and pulled off his socks. “I could do the thing in my sleep—if I ever sleep