Exotic Nights

But there was Owen. And she wanted Owen. And she’d thought if she had a little more time, she might show Owen how much he had to offer—and not just in the money sense. But it probably was for the best, because that was the fantasy, wasn’t it? Her winning him. She’d soon know anyway. She’d tell him about the part, see how he reacted. Then she’d know for sure if this was still just sex or something else entirely. She spent the afternoon totally excited, totally nervous, totally torn.

She raced home, but he wasn’t there and she paced round the big space. Not sure how to tell him. How to act. But when he finally appeared the thrill, the disbelief, the pride all bubbled out of her.

‘I got the part, I got the part!’ She ran to him, her smile and arms wide.

He caught her, sweeping them both into the embrace, lifting and spinning her, grinning hugely.

‘What part?’ he asked when her toes touched the floor again.

‘On the show.’

‘What show?’ He laughed.

‘It’s not the lead or anything,’ she clarified. ‘But it is a minor character. Well, quite a major minor character actually. And I do understudy the lead, which means in some matinees I’ll be the lead.’

He was still laughing. ‘This is fantastic. Which theatre? When?’

Her smile suddenly felt a little stiff. ‘It’s a travelling show.’

‘Travelling?’ His hands loosened.

She took her full weight, brushed a stray bit of hair back behind her ear and blurted it all. ‘Rehearsals are in Christchurch. The show starts there and then tours. If the New Zealand tour is successful, then it’ll go to Australia.’

‘Wow.’ He was still grinning as he stepped away. ‘Wow.’

He went straight to the fridge and pulled out a bottle. ‘This calls for a celebration, right?’

The cork fired right across the room, bubbles frothed. She watched as he poured, staring at the label. Good grief, she’d only ever seen that sort of champagne in the pages of posh magazines.

‘Yeah,’ she said slowly. Had he known a celebration was in order?

He handed her a glass. ‘When do you go?’

‘Later this week.’

‘How long do you rehearse for?’

‘Almost six weeks, I think. Then the tour starts. I don’t know how long that’ll be ultimately.’

He was all questions; she had no time to think of anything but the answers. It was a good twenty minutes before they quietened.

‘You did it,’ he said softly, smiling.

‘I did.’ She still couldn’t believe it—any of it. Especially that she’d be leaving, right when things were getting interesting. She finally broached the subject. ‘I’m really sorry about not using the space downstairs.’

‘Oh. Don’t worry about it. It was just an idea. I have lots of them.’ He grinned.

Her heart ached. He really didn’t mind.

‘You’ll have to phone and tell

your family.’

She paused. ‘Not yet.’ She’d see how it went first—make sure it was a complete success that she could be proud of. And she was still nervous about contacting Vita. Her sister was too good at prying and she’d want to do a post-mortem over what had happened on Waiheke.

‘This is great,’ he said. ‘This is really good.’

She supposed it was. An easy, clean finish for him. She’d been the one building dream castles. Seeing them shatter, hurt.