A NEW ACT
“Dead," Mr. Reddy repeated.
"I saw her," I whispered.
Myra gasped and twisted to press her face into Reddy's chest, his arm tightening around her shoulders.
"What do you know?" he asked, frowning at me.
"Red," Myra hissed, leaning back to glare at him.
"Almost nothing," I said, my arms flapping uselessly at my side. "The detective wouldn't tell me anything." Aside from that she was strangled…and more.
"And what did you tell him?" Reddy pressed.
"Almost nothing," I repeated firmly. "That I saw her when we parted ways near our apartments. That she wasn't at the theater yesterday. No," I said when his mouth opened. "I told him the Bawdy Row."
Mr. Reddy's shoulders relaxed slightly, head nodding slowly. "Good girl."
"Hunter…Hunter was with me last night. He said he would make inquiries," I said, debating over saying more. But my trip to the theater had made my suspicions against the orc seem absurd. I'd practically forced myself onto him before he'd revealed any aggression. And why would he harm Beth? She probably would've been as happily eager to bed him as I was.
Mr. Reddy grunted. "I'll speak with him. But…more than likely, our Beth made her own bed."
Myra let out a strange sound, something between a growl and a sob, and Mr. Reddy petted a massive hand down the back of her head, revealing a rare tenderness as he kissed the crown of her head gently.
"What will you tell the others?" I asked.
"The truth," Reddy answered with a huffing sigh. "As far as we know, her death isn't connected to the theater. This is just a…great loss to our family." I liked him a little more for the gentle crack of his voice in the words.
"We should cancel shows," Myra murmured.
I caught the wince of Mr. Reddy's expression. He felt the loss of Beth, but he would feel it even more strongly if it hurt his pockets. I cleared my throat before he could refuse.
"We could dedicate a scene to her. No bawd, just…"
"Memoriam," Reddy said, the word heavy on his tongue.
Myra sighed and leaned back in the circle of his arms. "That would be lovely. Sweet. She deserves that from us."
Mr. Reddy gave his lover a solemn smile and a soft kiss, before nodding gratefully at me. "It should be you to go and tell the others," Mr. Reddy said, and I thought at first he was speaking to me until he cocked Myra's chin up with a thick finger and smiled gently down at her. "You're the right one. The kids look up to you. And I need a word with our Hazel."
I could just barely see the corner of Myra's frown as she stared back at him, but she nodded eventually. I wasn't worried until Myra turned, offering me a brittle smile.
"Thank you, lovey," Myra said, rounding Reddy's desk and patting my arms as she headed for the door. "I'm glad it was you who told us."
The voices of stagehands and actors rushed in as she opened the door, the cheerful notes and teasing and laughter such a jarring contrast to the hush of our conversation. Mr. Reddy watched Myra right until the moment the door snapped shut, then sagged into his chair with a whoosh of breath.
"We'll know more when we learn how she died. Her injuries," Mr. Reddy said.
And again, I should've told him what I did know, that she was strangled, but my tongue wouldn't form the words.
"This is a sorry business," he whispered, and I wondered if he meant Beth or the theater. His eyes flicked up at me, and his frown deepened. "Thank you." I nodded, and he pointed to the chair in front of the desk. "Sit."
The sound of the chair's feet scratching against the floor reminded me of the chain in my dreams of my father, and I winced and sank down slowly, aware of the fading ache of my body.
"We have a guest act arriving today," Mr. Reddy said.
"Is that why you didn't want to cancel shows?" I asked.
His lips twisted and his eyes narrowed. Years ago, when I first arrived, that expression would've terrified me, but Mr. Reddy was mostly bluster, and I was aware of a kind of respect we had for one another.
"I cancel shows, and everyone loses wages. I cancel shows, and our theater appears unreliable, our patrons wonder when we might close our doors to them again," Mr. Reddy said. "They won't feel our loss if they can't walk through the doors. No, you have the right of it. Make them weep with us. Make them remember Bethie by her absence under that spotlight. We are nothing if we aren't being watched by that audience, Nix."
My hands clenched in my lap, gripping fiercely around the fabric of my dress as I stared back at Mr. Reddy. The words unsettled me, but only because they rang with truth. No part of my life felt as vivid as when I was on stage. At least until last night.
"And the guest act?" I asked, thinking of the conversation I'd overheard between Reddy and Myra. Had that only been the day before?
"He's a demon. Folks call him the Gemini," Reddy said with a roll of his eyes and a shrug. His jaw ground briefly, and then he returned my stare. "He's not a good match for the other girls, Nix. Not…safe."
I'd been partnered with plenty of monsters that Reddy knew wouldn't work well with other girls. Some were too big. Some too rough. He'd never told me they weren't safe.
"Why?" I asked.
"He deals in pain," Reddy said flatly, watching me. "And pleasure, if I'm told correctly."
My eyes widened slightly, the words having a strange effect on me. "What do you mean? Plenty of—"
"I mean he's going to hurt you, Hazel," Reddy said. "I don't know how, but I do know that. It was all I could find out."
I licked my lips and found myself unable to look away from Mr. Reddy. "You're not talking about flogging or stockades."
He shook his head slowly.
There was plenty of pain measured out in the theater. Most of our scenes involved some element of acting terrified or as if our deeds were against our will. But it was measured. Mr. Reddy didn't want us truly hurt, not if it meant we couldn't go on stage the next night and do it all over again.
"You'll be safe. That's all I can promise," Mr. Reddy said, and I heard the strain, saw the fold of his brow and the nervous tap of his fingers.
He didn't like this. He didn't want this act for me, or for anyone else. Hazel can handle it, he had said to Myra.