The Unidentified Redhead (Redhead #1)(8)
Author: Alice Clayton

There is a feeling, an electricity that happens in live theater. There is a connection between the actors and the audience that is palpable. When the lights came back up, I saw the band on stage and felt the music begin to move across me—I was overwhelmed. I tensed and when I recognized the opening song, I could feel tears beginning to form in my eyes. Before one note was sung, before one word was spoken, I was lost in the moment. And I began to cry.

It was as though everything I had been missing in my life came into focus, and I couldn’t hide from it anymore. I clutched the armrest as silent sobs racked through my body. The tears were falling, but I was filled with such a sense of joy, of rapture, of belonging. I couldn’t stop the smile that was stretching from ear to ear. It was magic. It was the closest to a religious experience that I had ever come. At one point, my friend to my left tried to ask me something, but I just shook my head. I couldn’t take my eyes off the stage. I knew that this was what I was supposed to be doing with my life, and I could not wait to start living again.

After that night, it was like there was a hand pushing against my back, constantly keeping me moving forward. I went home, looked in the mirror and cried at what I saw. Not so much about the weight, but the woman looking back at me had none of the spark, none of the crazy that I used to love about myself.

I cried for the time that I had lost. I cried for letting things go on like this for too long. I cried for the living I had deprived myself of for so long. Then, once I was done crying, I went to work.

I obtained the services of a personal trainer the next day and set about changing the outside. I also started speaking to a counselor to change the inside.

I took an acting class at the local theater and was insanely happy. I was thrilled to be back in the company of creative people again and threw myself into every scene, every critique and every exercise as if it was my job. Then, one evening, I went alone to a club that was sponsoring an open mike night. I climbed onto the tiny stage with my sheet music, which I gave to the accompanist. I sang my song, hearing my voice ring out strong and clear through the club, and felt whole. I felt like I had come home.

I began to open up and have fun again. As the weight came off, my confidence returned and I became reacquainted with the power that kind of confidence can bring a woman. I went out on dates and the first time that I invited a man back to my house … well, let’s just say it was another religious experience. Why the hell did I deprive myself for so long? I rejoiced in my reawakened sexuality, and while I was careful, I certainly enjoyed myself. I was definitely more aggressive than I was back in the day, and I was pleased to realize that I was still quite good at the sexing.

After almost two years of self-discovery and work, I was ready to make another big change. I visited Holly in L.A., and by the end of the first day, she had already invited me to move in with her. I was ready to move back and start my new life. I knew that I could continue working on a consultant basis no matter where I was living, and it just felt right. I thought about her offer for about seven seconds and then agreed. We were both thrilled to be spending time together again. I knew that living with her would be as fun as it was the first time, and it certainly was. She was truly my best friend, my sister, and I would do anything for her. She also saw through all my bullshit and never let me get away with it. You had to love her for that.

When I got back to my car, I stretched out a little from my run and then climbed in. I put the top down while I took a long pull on my water bottle. I glanced at my cell and saw that I had a few messages, the first of these from Holly, asking me to pick up Mr. Chow for dinner on my way home.

The second was from Nick asking me if I wanted to go out dancing the following night. His favorite club in West Hollywood played all eighties music on certain nights, and it was the best for shaking your ass.

The third was a text from a number I didn’t recognize: Sheridan,

The Lost Boys is on TNT tonight.

I know how much you desire Haim.

I laughed when I read it, knowing there was only one unknown number that could have sent me this text. I quickly texted him back: Hamilton,

I already have my DVR set to record it so I can “desire” myself whenever the mood strikes.

I plugged in my iPod and was selecting some driving music when my phone buzzed, alerting me to a new text:

Sheridan, now I am concerned for you …

I think you need a new celebrity to crush on, someone a little younger, perhaps.

More charm, less heroin.

I felt my heart flutter a little . He was cute and funny. And twenty-four, Grace, twenty-four!

I thought about his hair then, those gorgeous curls, and his green eyes. I thought about the way he looked when he was biting on his lower lip. Ah, f**k it.

Hamilton,

I’ve been thinking about upgrading

to someone new for my “daydreaming.”

Any thoughts?

I chose my music, and right before I pulled out of the parking lot, I got another text:

Sheridan,

I’m having several thoughts …

One question, though.

Still on for the tryst?

I laughed aloud and sent him one more text: Hamilton,

Hell yes, although I’ll need to be swept off my feet.

He responded in less than a minute:

Here’s to getting you off your feet, Grace …

Dammit, he’d first-named me.

Chapter 5

After getting back, I took a quick shower to wash the canyon off. When I was finished, I headed back down to the kitchen, where Holly had gotten home and was heating up the Mr. Chow that I had picked up for dinner.

“How was your day, dear?” I asked, giving her a peck on the cheek in my best 1950s homemaker voice.

“It was busy. I’m glad to be home. I see you had a productive day,” she answered, nodding to the magazine that was in the freezer as she removed the bottle of Absolut.

I laughed and said, “I had to hide it. It was making me crazy! I was trying to write training protocols all afternoon and it was calling to me. I finally had to put it away.”

I got out the jar of olives and began mixing two dirty martinis.

“How far did you get?” she asked, as she gratefully took the cocktail I handed to her.

“Hmm, let me think. He was talking with his assistant about making some modifications to the time machine. I really love the character of Isaac.”

“Wait until you see the actor they got to play him in the film. Super cute.” She grinned, taking a sip of her cocktail and shivering a little.

“How much time until dinner?”