Grace
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The moments ticked away, and Rafa didn’t return. Grace kept on running the lights and sound and set changes. She also talked a stagehand through taking over Carl’s jobs, since Carl hadn’t returned either. But though she kept her voice calm, her anxiety grew. What the hell was going on?
She debated sending a stagehand to go outside and report back to her. But if something dangerous was going on, she didn’t want to send some innocent person straight into it. At best, they’d be at risk themselves; at worst, they’d also endanger Rafa further by sticking him with another person he’d have to protect. And if she went after him herself, she’d do the exact same thing.
If only she could reach Rafa over her headset...
I’m an idiot, Grace thought. Who needs headsets? We have cell phones.
She snatched her cell phone out of her purse. As she didn’t want to distract him if he was in the middle of a fight or sneaking up on someone or who knows what, she texted instead of calling.
What is going on? Do you need help?
A sudden buzz almost made her leap out of her seat. She whipped around. It came from the pocket of the jacket Rafa had left draped over a chair. Grace leaned over and pulled out Rafa’s cell phone.
Goddammit.
Maybe she should call the police, just in case. Given the sniper attack, they’d undoubtedly take the call seriously. Then she got a better idea. She hit a button to bring up the “Mars sunset” effect, told the stagehands to put in the sunset backdrop, and pulled up the contact list on Rafa’s phone. She’d call his teammates and get them to check on him.
As she was about to dial Hal’s number, she saw movement on the backstage monitor. The stage door opened. Carl hurried in, glanced up toward the camera, and held out his hands in a “hold on” gesture. Then he pointed to the ladder: he was coming up.
He didn’t look scared or upset, so she was reassured that nothing terrible had happened. Perplexed, Grace put down Rafa’s phone. She’d better get the report from Carl before she called anyone. It was odd that he hadn’t just picked up a headset and told her whatever he had to say. But as she watched him climbing the ladder, it occurred to her that anyone could overhear everything spoken on headset. Maybe Rafa had given him a private message for her.
Carl climbed into the booth and glanced down at the stage. A scene was about to end, and there was a thirty-second blackout before the next scene started. It was the climax of the play, when Brady and Paris climbed into their jerry-rigged escape rocket, and was meant to build suspense to an almost unbearable degree. Grace could testify that even though she knew they made it safely back to Earth, she always felt an irrational anxiety during that long wait. Thirty seconds in a blackout, in dead silence, felt like an eternity.
Carl gestured to her to go ahead.
“Stand by for blackout. Silence backstage during the blackout, everyone,” Grace said. “Absolutely no speaking, walking, or even touching anything till I say it’s over.”
She hit the button, plunging the stage into darkness, then turned off her mike to speak to Carl. “What’s going on? Is Rafa okay?”
“He’s fine,” Carl assured her.
She was immensely relieved. “Where is he? What’s going on?”
“I’ll show you.” Carl beckoned to her to step away from the board.
Grace took a quick glance at her watch. She still had twenty seconds before she needed to bring up the lights, so she took off her headset and stepped toward him. “What is—”
A glint of light shone at the end of Carl’s right sleeve, as if it was concealing a watch. But Carl was right-handed; he wore his watch on his left wrist. He was wearing it now. And she’d never seen him wear a bracelet...
Grace leaped back at the exact instant that Carl whipped up his right hand. With a soft and terrifying click, the concealed switchblade flicked out and slashed through the air where her throat had been a second ago.
Terrified, she scrambled backward. Her back thudded into the wall. She was trapped. The booth was so small, Carl was blocking both the exit and her access to her headset. She couldn’t escape, and she couldn’t call backstage for help. She couldn’t call for help, period; the booth was soundproofed.
Carl gave a malicious chuckle as he watched her frantically looking around.
Stalling for time, she said, “It was you all along, wasn’t it? You were doing everything when you went for coffee!”
“You got it. Well, I set up the flying accident when I went for coffee, but I executed it with a remote control I had in my pocket. I couldn’t have everything happen when I was out of sight, or you’d have noticed. You’re pretty observant.”
“But what did you do to Rafa?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just spilled a little water to get your attention, then lured him into one of my little booby traps. Well, I shouldn’t say little. I rigged a brick wall to collapse on top of him.” Carl smiled. “It looked like he broke his leg, so he won’t be going anywhere. I’ll finish him off when I’m done with you.”
Grace was torn between relief and fear. Rafa was alive. And she didn’t think Carl would have an easy time with him, broken leg notwithstanding. But he wouldn’t be coming to save her.
“But why? Why are you doing any of this?” As Grace spoke, drawing his attention, she let one of her hands drift behind her back, feeling around for something she could use as a weapon. But all she felt was the smooth wall.
Carl shrugged. “Money.”
“I can pay you more,” Grace said desperately. “Rafa’s rich.”
“As if he’d pay me off after you told him I threatened you. I know his type. Brave. Protective. Honorable.” The final word came out in a contemptuous sneer. “Okay, enough stalling. Your time’s up.”
He took a step toward her. Light flashed off the razor-sharp blade.
“RAFA!” Grace yelled.
Carl gave a nasty laugh. “Your boyfriend’s not coming for you. He’s got a broken leg, and this booth is only accessible by a vertical ladder.”
“So what,” growled Rafa.
Carl whipped around, his switchblade upraised. Rafa loomed behind him, an avenging fury in the shape of a man. His clothes were torn and dirty, blood was dripping from his hair, and he stood with all his weight balanced on one leg and one hand braced on the wall. He was the most beautiful sight Grace had ever seen.
Carl lunged at him, his switchblade a steel blur in the air. Rafa’s free hand swung up, just as fast, and blocked the blow. But Carl aimed a vicious kick at his injured leg. Rafa fell with a grunt of pain, but took Carl down with him. The men struggled on the floor, fighting hard.
Grace smashed the heavy black vase of roses over Carl’s head.
Carl went limp. Rafa shoved him to the side, then rolled him unceremoniously on to his stomach, yanked his hands behind his back, and handcuffed him.
Grace dropped to her knees beside Rafa. “You saved my life!”
Wincing, Rafa sat up and ruffled her hair. “Pretty sure you saved your own life. Good move with the vase.”
“He would’ve killed me if you hadn’t shown up,” Grace said, shuddering. “Anyway, you gave me the vase.”
“From now on, I’m only giving you romantic gifts that can double as improvised weapons,” Rafa said, smiling. Then he frowned, glancing up. “Hey, is the show still going on? Shouldn’t you be on headset?”
She looked up. The stage was still in darkness. The thirty-second blackout had lasted... three minutes? Five? “Yeah, but you’re hurt! I have to call an ambulance.”
Ignoring her headset, she picked up Rafa’s cell phone and started to dial 911.
“No!” He snatched it out of her hand. “I can’t go to a hospital, remember? I’ll call my team. They’ll take me to a doctor. You get back to work. I know how much this show means to you.”
Reluctantly, she lifted her headset. Before she put it on, she took one last look at Rafa. His brown skin had paled and taken on a grayish tinge. Rather than making the call, he was sitting with his head down and his hand pressed to his forehead.
“Rafa!”
“I’m fine,” he said, but his voice was alarmingly weak. “Just a little dizzy.”
She grabbed the phone back. “Forget the play. This is your life.”
Grace dialed Hal. To her dismay, it went to voicemail. She left a hurried message, then called Destiny. That also went to voicemail. Frustrated, she left another message, then turned to ask Rafa who he thought was most likely to pick up.
Rafa had gotten off the floor and seated himself in her chair. He was wearing her headset and talking into it. The stage was no longer dark, but correctly set up and lit for the final scene, with the astronauts back on Earth. Paris and Brady were onstage, singing about the wonder of space exploration and the power of love. When they sang the final notes, Rafa hit a button on the light board, blacking out the stage.
“Stand by for curtain call,” he said. “Tell me when everyone’s in place. Okay, I’m bringing the lights up.”
As Grace watched incredulously, he hit another button, bringing up the curtain call lights. The actors took their bows. Thunderous applause rose up from the audience. Grace peered out the window. They were getting a standing ovation.
“How’d you learn to do my job?” she asked, bewildered.
Rafa smiled. “I like watching you work, remember?”
He passed over the headset. Grace executed the final cues of the evening, blacking out the stage and bringing up the lights on the audience, then took off her headset and held up his cell phone. “I couldn’t reach Hal and Destiny, so I had to leave messages. Who should I try calling next?”
Rafa peered at the backstage monitor. “Nobody. You already got through. Look, Hal or Destiny called in the cavalry.”
Grace looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, his entire team was hurrying toward the ladder, with Fiona at the forefront. All of them were dressed for a night out, in suits or fancy dresses, except for Fiona, who was in a torn and dirty business suit.
“I don’t get it,” Grace said. “I just called them a minute ago. They couldn’t possibly have gotten here so soon.”
Rafa shrugged, then winced. “Can you tell them I’m okay? Otherwise they’ll all come swarming up here, and they won’t fit.”
Grace went over to the ladder and yelled down, “Hey! Rafa said to tell you he’s all right, and not to all climb up at once. You won’t fit. He broke his leg, so you’ll have to help him get down somehow. Oh, and Carl turned out to be a bad guy. He’s here too, handcuffed and out cold. I guess we could just throw him down.”
The team looked at each other, and then Hal called, “Give us a second to figure this out. Then I’ll send up a couple people.”
Grace returned to Rafa. He was still sitting in her chair, his leg stuck out awkwardly in front of him.
She put her arm around his shoulders. “Hey, thanks for doing my job for me.”
“Thanks for doing my job for me,” Rafa returned.
Catalina climbed into the booth, followed by Shane and Fiona. They stepped over Carl, except for Fiona, whose foot came down hard on his outstretched hand. Grace was pretty sure that was no accident.
Grace squeezed aside to let the paramedics get to Rafa. They quickly checked him over.
“How is he?” Grace asked.
“He’s fine,” Catalina reassured her. “His leg’s broken, but that’ll heal in a couple weeks. The rest is just cuts and bruises.”
“Are you sure?” Grace said anxiously. “He’s so pale, and he said he felt dizzy...”
“That’s just from pain.” Shane filled a syringe and stuck a needle in Rafa’s arm. “Watch, his color will come back. Just give this a couple minutes to work.”
“I’m fine,” Rafa promised her. “Shane’s right. My leg just hurts like hell. Especially since I had to climb a ladder with it, and then Carl kicked me in it.”
Fiona looked thoughtfully down at Carl, who was still out like a light. Grace suspected that he was going to get “accidentally” stepped on again on her way out.
While Catalina and Shane splinted Rafa’s leg, Fiona gave them a quick rundown on what she’d learned while undercover.
“A crime boss named Abrams is behind the entire plot,” Fiona explained. “He was an investor in My Fair Lady, and he wasn’t going to let it sink or swim on its own merits.” She gave Carl a hard nudge in the ribs with her foot. “He hired the sniper, and this guy too. His name isn’t really Carl, it’s Jason Lindstrom. The real Carl is working on a play in France.”
“But how did you all get here so fast?” Rafa asked.
Catalina laughed. “We were already here! Everyone but Fiona had come to see the show. We were going to surprise you guys, so we came in at the last minute and sat in the back.”
“The police can collect Lindstrom here.” Fiona gave him another hard prod with her foot. “I already gave them a heads-up to arrest Abrams, one of the My Fair Lady producers, and a bunch of gangsters—it’s a long story. But you’ve got nothing to worry about any more, Grace. They’re all going to jail.”
Someone cleared their throat loudly. Grace turned to see Lubomir, standing on the ladder and looking into the booth, his eyes wide.
“Rafa, are you all right?” the director asked.
“I’m fine,” Rafa replied. “I broke my leg, but... I’m fine.”
As Shane had promised, he did look much better now that the painkiller had taken effect. Grace’s anxiety slipped away. He’d need some time to recover, but he was obviously going to. And he was equally obviously in good hands.
“And Carl?” Lubomir asked.
“Carl tried to kill me and Rafa,” Grace said. “That’s why we had a five-minute blackout. It won’t happen again.”
“The plot against Mars is over,” Rafa assured the director. “We found out who was behind it, and they’re all either under arrest or about to be.”
“Well... Thank you!” Lubomir looked perplexed but relieved. “We’re having a cast party on the stage. Come down and join us when you can.”
He climbed down. A moment later, several police officers arrived at the theatre, then climbed up and hauled Carl down, then off to jail. Once that was done, Catalina and Shane helped Rafa down the ladder, followed by Fiona and Grace.
They were met onstage by the Protection, Inc. team, plus the cast, crew, and musicians of Mars, who were celebrating with champagne and confetti, cupcakes and roses.
“Rafa!” Paris exclaimed. “Are you all right? Lubomir said Carl tried to kill you...?”
“It’s a long story.” Rafa turned to Shane and Catalina. “Can I not be hauled back to the office immediately? If someone gets me a chair, I’ll be fine, honestly. I don’t want to miss the party.”
Shane and Catalina glanced at each other.
“One hour,” Catalina said firmly. “It’ll take the doctor longer than that to get to the office. And then we take you to her. No arguments.”
“And no alcohol,” Shane added. “You can have your champagne some other day.”
Grace fetched Rafa a space shuttle seat, then settled in another one beside him. Several members of the audience joined the party, including Raluca in an exquisite designer gown, Journey, bedecked in the most expensive-looking jewelry Grace had ever seen, and even Nick’s friend Manuel in a suit borrowed from someone with broader shoulders and shorter legs.
Ellie was accompanied by a man she introduced as her twin brother Ethan, who had the same sandy hair, blue-green eyes, and snub nose. He was dressed in battered Marine fatigues, and apologetically said that he’d just flown in from Afghanistan and arrived as Ellie and Hal were leaving to see a play, and Ellie had grabbed him and hustled him off with them.
“So...” Rafa began, glancing from Ethan to Ellie. “Does he...?”
Ellie shook her head, smiling. “Didn’t have time.”
“What?” Ethan asked.
“I’m pregnant!” Ellie announced, loudly enough that the Mars people stopped talking to listen. “With twins!”
The emotion on Ethan’s unguarded face was so raw that Grace had to look away lest it bring tears to her eyes too. Then Ethan grabbed his sister in a hug that lifted her off her feet. When he finally put her down, he swiped his arm across his eyes, then said, “That was worth coming home for. Do I get to name them?”
“You can help name them,” Ellie replied. “Hal and I get a veto in case you try to name them something like Spike and Rambo.”
“Only if they’re boys,” Ethan said. “If they’re girls, they should be Spikette and Rambina.”
Destiny poked him in the ribs. “Hey, weirdo. Long time no see.”
“Did you miss me?” Ethan asked.
Destiny flipped back her braids in a show of unconcern. “Oh, well, not you specifically. It’s just handy to have a Marine on call.”
Brady tapped Grace on the shoulder. “About the jello...”
“Sorry, Brady,” she said. “It’ll never happen again. Maybe I can get Paris to make it for you next time.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I realize now that I just hate jello. But I talked to Lubomir, and he said the audience loved my McDonald’s joke so much, we’re going to keep it. From now on, I take one bite, make a face, and spit it out. So it doesn’t matter how gross it is—I never have to swallow it again!”
Ruth ran in, beaming. “Guess who I was sitting next to?” Not waiting for a reply, she said, “The theatre critic! With his wife! Guess what I heard him say to her about the show?” Again without a pause, she went on, “He loved it! He said the music was catchy, the story was thrilling, and the five minutes in black was a daring and brilliant directorial choice that made him feel like he was there with the lost astronauts in the lonely void of outer space! He said the headline on his review would be MARS: THE MARVELOUS!”
The actors broke into cheers.
“He liked the five-minute blackout?” said Lubomir incredulously. “I wonder if I should keep it? Or at least extend it to sixty seconds...”
Only then did Ruth notice the splint on Rafa’s leg. “What happened to you?!”
“I broke my leg,” he replied.
Ruth’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not superstitious. But next time, I’m sticking with ‘good luck.’”
Manuel came up to Grace and Rafa, looking very happy and very nervous. “Excuse me. Can you introduce me to—or, um, just point out the director to me?”
“I’m the director,” said Lubomir.
“Oh!” Manuel stared at him. “Well... I wanted to tell you... Actually, I should probably tell Nick too...”
Nick came up. “What?”
Now a whole crowd was watching Manuel. Dividing his attention between Lubomir and Nick, he said, “Um, I’m in college. I have to declare a major soon, but I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I’d been following Nick around to see if I might want to be a bodyguard, but it’s not for me. But then I came to see this play—just because Nick was going, otherwise I never would have come, I’ve never seen a play before in my life—”
A giddy smile broke over his face. “And I was sitting there watching the scene where the astronauts are landing on Mars, and I thought, ‘That’s what I want to do for the rest of my life.’”
“Study Mars?” Ruth asked eagerly. “Or be an astronaut?”
Manuel shook his head. “Do theatre! I want to create something like this show. I want to write musicals! Or maybe direct them. Or act. Or do the lights, I don’t know, I just want to be a part of it all.”
“Congratulations,” Raluca said solemnly. “It is a very important thing, to know what you wish to do in life.”
“Yeah, that’s great,” said Nick. He glanced at Lubomir. “He’s here for a couple more days. Could someone show him around, maybe? Let him see how everything works?”
“Of course,” Lubomir said. Looking from Grace to Paris to the conductor, he said, “Actually, I think we can do better than that. If you like, you can stay backstage for the next few performances, and follow a different person each night. I can tell you about directing, Paris can tell you about acting, perhaps you can sit beside Grace and see how stage management works...”
Manuel’s big brown eyes lit up. “Oh, yes please!”
“Sure,” said Grace. “And the theatre’s completely safe now.”
“Speaking of that,” Lubomir said plaintively, “Can someone please explain exactly what happened?”
Everyone gathered round to listen as Rafa, Grace, Fiona, and Hal began to recount the story. When they got to Carl’s attack in the booth, Rafa declared, “Grace saved my life.”
“Actually, he saved mine,” said Grace.
But she wasn’t going to argue too hard. He’d looked after her, and he’d let her look after him. He’d not only saved her life, he’d saved her show. More importantly, he’d loved and understood her enough to remember what was important to her, and make sure she got it, no matter what it cost him. He’d even bought that heavy vase because he’d known she’d like it better than a conventionally pretty one—and the usual sort of vase would have been too delicate to knock Carl out.
He’s not too good to be true, Grace thought contentedly as she stroked his hair. And neither is our life together. It’s good and true.
She could trust in that.