Can't Stop Loving You Read Online Free PDF Page A

as charismatic as Brick and Helen Sullivan. They
were virtual giants on the stage, filling it with a presence that
almost overwhelmed an audience.
    Sitting on the front row watching Helen take
her place, Clifford felt the skin along the back of his neck
prickle.
    Helen didn’t merely
act
Katharina;
she
became
Katharina. She was fire and suppressed
sexuality as she made her entrance.
    Brick’s Petruchio was arrogant, bold, and
outrageous as he watched his ex-wife make her way toward him.
    Clifford leaned forward in his seat.
Something was happening onstage that was not due to mere presence,
something electric, something magical. The voices of the great
actors filled the room. By the time they got to lines that earned
Shakespeare the reputation of being a bawdy bard, Clifford had
almost forgotten that his job was to direct.
    He had become a captive audience.
    “‘Come, come, you wasp, i’faith, you are too
angry.’”
    As he spoke Petruchio’s lines, Brick moved so
close to Helen that his thigh touched hers. She didn’t acknowledge
by so much as a blink of the eye that he had done anything except
what the script called for.
    “‘If I be waspish, best beware my sting,’”
she said.
    There
was the reaction he’d hoped
for. It was in her voice, that high, bright edge that meant he’d
disturbed her.
    He pressed his advantage, moving closer
still, so close, he felt the stiffening in her spine.
    “‘My remedy is then, to pluck it out.’”
    Ever the consummate professional, she didn’t
miss a cue.
    “‘Ay, if the fool could find it where it
lies.’” Her eyes warned him not to try.
    “‘Who knows not where a wasp doth wear his
sting? In his tail.’”
    Boldly Brick snaked his arm behind her back
and firmly planted his hand on her backside.
    She stiffened as if she’d been shot. Giving
him a scathing look, she marched to the proscenium and leaned
toward the director.
    “That’s not in the script,” she said.
    Clifford roused himself like a man who had
been drugged.
    “It looked good to me,” he said.
“Natural.”
    “I don’t care how it looked. It’s not in the
script. This is Shakespeare, not the Playboy channel.”
    “Brick and I discussed this before
rehearsals...”
    Helen whirled toward her ex-husband. “I’ll
just bet you did.”
    Brick sauntered toward her, walking in that
maddening way he always used when he wanted to placate her. Instead
of placating, his arrogance only fed her flame.
    “Don’t you take another step, Brick
Sullivan.”
    “I’m the other star in this production,
Helen. Any major dispute regarding stage directions will be
overseen by me.”
    “This is not about stage directions; it’s
about mutiny.”
    Brick grinned. “Whose? Yours or mine?”
    “Mine. I’m walking if you don’t stick to the
script.” She placed her hands on her hips. “And it does not call
for you to maul my butt.”
    “What makes you think I’d want to do a thing
like that, Helen?”
    His innocent posture enraged her. She stamped
down on his foot. Ever the actor, Brick pretended more pain than he
felt.
    “Helen, why would you want to go and do a
thing like that?”
    “Because you deserve it, you wretched
cad.”
    Clifford saw his entire production unraveling
before his eyes. He hurried from his seat and joined them onstage.
Placing one hand on Helen’s arm and the other on Brick’s, he
mediated.
    “Now, Brick... Helen. I know this is your
first time onstage together in a while.”
    “Two years,” she said.
    “Two and a half,” he said.
    “Two.”
    “You left in April.”
    “It was August.”
    “I know because the forsythia was in
bloom.”
    “It wasn’t forsythia; it was marigolds.”
    Clifford had the sinking feeling that he was
on a runaway train headed straight for the ravine of failed
directors.
    “Why don’t we all take a break?” he said.
    His suggestion was met with a hoot of
laughter from Brick and a smile of derision from Helen.
    “Who needs a break,” Brick