A Twist of Hate Read Online Free PDF Page A

to your place.”
                  “About Siobhan?”
    “About Michael.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Two
     
     
    “Was it love at first sight? Wow, that’s a good question. I don’t know. We had so much chemistry the first time we met that we hated each other. It wasn’t real hate. It wasn’t like Michael Littlefield’s.
    —Siobhan Curran, Newsline
     
                  Mr. Cleese, alone onstage beneath the white glare of the overhead lights, stood before the half-finished set. He hooded his eyes with his hand to see the cast and crew scattered in the first few rows of the house.
                  “After a two and a half weeks of grueling rehearsals, I can say with confidence that this production is finally shaping into something I’m sure Mr. Tennessee Williams would be quite thrilled to see, were he alive to join us. Not only have our players learned their lines and blocking, most of them have managed to show up on time every day.”
                  David Kent, Ann Lewis, and two prop masters glanced at Michael, the offender Mr. Cleese chose not to mention by name.
                  “It’s Friday, you’ve all worked hard, and I’m pleased to announce that there will be no rehearsal tomorrow. Enjoy your Saturday.”
                  Thus dismissed, the cast and crew began to leave. Siobhan and Courtney crossed the aisle to the section where Camden, Brian and Michael sat. “I don’t suppose we could get some help tearing down the set,” Siobhan asked hopefully.
                  Michael rose, then turned to address Camden. “Chrissie’s folks are in Myrtle Beach for the weekend,” he smirked. “We’ve got seven bedrooms to ourselves. See ya!” He skipped out without as much as a goodbye to anyone else.
                  “I can’t stay. My grandparents are in town,” Courtney said. She scooped her bookbag onto her shoulder. “If we leave now, Brian can meet them and celebrate Shabbos with us.”
                  “Grandparents?” Brian winced. “I’ll help with the set.” Courtney gave him a playful punch in the gut. “Sorry, guys,” he said. He took Courtney’s bag and slipped it onto his own shoulder as they walked to the rear exits of the auditorium.
                  Diligently working in silence, Siobhan and Camden finished breaking down the set in an hour. “I can give you a ride home,” she offered backstage after they fastened the doors to the prop cabinet.
                  “Great, thanks,” Camden said.
                  They collected their coats and backpacks from Mr. Cleese’s office, and walked to Siobhan’s car, which was parked on the upper lot.
                  “Would you like to grab some dinner?” Camden asked as she pulled out of the lower parking lot.
                  To cover her shock, she busied herself with the radio. She tuned it to KBAD and adjusted the volume to a conversational level. “Sure,” she finally said.
                  She’d given him time to reconsider his hasty invitation. “We don’t have to,” he said, managing to mask his eagerness with indifference.
                  “I’d like to. Really.”
                  “You don’t have anything better to do on a Friday night? Something fun?”
                  “My grandmother constantly tells me there’s more to life than fun.” She turned onto Clayton Road. “Where would you like to go?”
                  “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
                  They rode another mile or so in silence. She stopped for the red light at Brentwood Blvd. “Do you want to sit down or get take out?”
                  “What?” Suddenly very warm, he cracked opened the window.
                  “Do you want to go through a drive-thru