“Yeah, I know, Ma. I miss you too. I don’t know about the holidays, but I’ll look into it, yeah?”
“That would be grand!” she says, her voice full of hope that I know I’m going to crush. “But I understand if you can’t. I know you’ve a lot on your plate.”
We visit for the rest of the drive to my flat about nothing in particular.She tells me about her days at work, and I fill her in on my classes. When she asks if I’ve been seeing anyone, I immediately think of Norah. I tell her there’s nothing new to report on that front, but secretly, I am hoping to change that soon.
Chapter Twelve
Norah
I’ve spent all of Friday in the Theatre Department working on costumes. I had a meeting scheduled with my team at ten this morning, where I relayed the information Dr. Andrews gave me about possibly pulling actors from the ballroom scene. No one loves that idea, but they all understand the budget. Each person is brilliant on their own, but as a team, we run like a well-oiled machine. Just as I’m about to move on, Dr. Andrews walks through the door, smiling broadly.
“Good news, everyone!” he calls out, clapping his hands together. “I just spoke with the Dean about our budget, and he’s agreed to give us an allowance!”
Cheers ring out and I heave a sigh of relief. Having a higher budget makes the creative processmore enjoyable.
“However,” Dr. Andrews continues, “We have to pull that amount from the spring show’s costume budget.”
I share a look with a few of my team members. Other than rumors of a drag show, we haven’t even been told what the spring program is yet. If we’re doing something grand, like Beauty and the Beast, how would we make it work?
“Maybe you could tell us what production we’re doing this spring and how much our budget is now. That way we can get a head start on researching less expensive materials?” I prompt him.
“I had really hoped to hold off until after Beauty and the Beast was finished, but you make a good point, Miss Grady,” he says, nodding at me. “I know you received the email this week about my idea for a drag show. With today’s culture, I thought it might be a good idea to expand our views and embrace something new. That being said, I haven’t mapped out the details yet, but I welcome your suggestions.”
“Are you wanting it to be an all-male cast, Dr. Andrews?” asks Michelle from the makeup team.
“That’s a great question, Michelle. No, it wouldn’t be fair to exclude the actresses in the department. I was considering making auditions campus-wide so that anyone who regularly performs in drag shows can try out.” he answers her.
A thought pops into my head, and I have to take a deep breath to suppress the sudden giggles bubbling up my throat. I flip to a blank page in my sketchbook and begin drawing a male form, starting with strong, muscular legs that lead to a tapered waist. Next is a broad chest and shoulders followed by powerful arms. I draw the neck and a stubbled jawline, adding smirking lips, mischievous eyes, and dark hair that drapes across his forehead. I cover the figure in a black leather bodysuit complete with a long black tail and cat ears. Finally, I add some black platform boots, and I’m looking at Eamon Kennedy as the sexiest black cat ever.
* **
I walk into O’Nelly’s with my friends at seven-thirty that night, and it’s already getting crowded. Surprisingly, we’re able to grab our favorite corner booth. Myra and Amelia are talking excitedly about their plans for the weekend while Charlie, Layla, and I listen halfheartedly. The late nights washing dishes for Pat have taken a toll on me this week. I’m more than ready to go to bed, but I promised I’d stay for one drink, and that’s what I’m going to do. And if I happen to see Eamon here tonight, then it’s an added bonus.
One of the newer waitresses saunters up to our table to get our orders and I decide to skip Guinness tonight, requesting a glass of the house red wine instead. Pat always carries some great local wines, so I’m not picky about which one I get. My phone chimes in my purse alerting me to a text message.
Eamon:Fancy seeing you here.
My head snaps up, and I quickly look around the pub, searching. Finally, I spot him sitting at the end of the bar, nursing what looks like a glass of whiskey. Our eyes lock, and a grin spreads across my face. Eamon gives me a crooked smile in return before sipping from his glass. I quickly text him back.
Norah:They made me do it.
Eamon:I’m wounded, lass. I thought you wanted to see us perform again.
I snort and look up at him with a raised eyebrow. He’s still looking at his phone.
Norah:Hardly. I’m still trying to block out the sound of Mac’s voice. ;)
Eamon:I can’t argue with you there.
Norah:How’d the game go?
Eamon:Grand. We won.
Norah:Congrats! How will you be celebrating?
His response takes longer. The little bubble pops up, then disappears a few times before he finally replies.
Eamon:Hopefully by having a drink with you tonight.
