Embrace the Grim Reaper Read Online Free PDF Page B

bag.”
    He smiled. “Oh, I’d say you got way out, crumpled it up, and threw it away.”
    “Good.”
    She turned and walked across the stage, descending the stairs. She brushed past Becca, but stopped when the woman called her name.
    “You will do the part, won’t you?”
    Casey looked at Becca’s face, which was filled with something Casey would’ve called desperation, if it hadn’t seemed over-dramatic. “No. I’m just passing through. The part’s yours.”
    Becca’s face crumpled. “But I don’t want it. I’ve been waiting for you.”
    That again. “Look. No one here has been waiting for me. I didn’t even know I was coming.”
    “But—”
    “Please, Casey. Can’t you stay?” Eric was standing next to Becca now, his face pleading.
    Casey shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair. What was up with these people?
    The other actors joined them, their expressions of awe and humor only slightly dampened. The four of them stood in a tight semicircle, waiting, apparently, for her to say she was staying.
    “It actually is my decision, you know,” the director said.
    They turned as a whole toward his seat, where he reclined, his hand half covering his face. Slowly he sat up, his hands on the armrests, elbows poking up beside him. He slanted his face toward Casey. “That was very interesting.”
    She waited.
    “You seem to have some experience.”
    She nodded slightly, not really caring one way or the other what he thought.
    “But I’m not sure you’re what we really need right now.”
    The other four actors gasped as one, then let go with a volley of disagreements. The director held up his hand. “Enough.” He looked at Casey. “You may go.”
    “No,” Eric said. “Wait.” He looked past her, toward the director. “You really are as big an idiot as you appear.”
    The director’s mouth dropped open, but snapped shut as his face clouded. “You have no right—”
    “But I do. And you know it.”
    The director’s eye twitched, and he clamped his teeth together. “She is nothing like Ellen. Ellen brought a much more feminine—”
    “Ellen’s not here.” Eric glanced at Becca, who’d made a small whimpering sound. “Ellen was…wonderful. We all know that. But this role doesn’t have to be so…so womanly. It can actually use an…earthier feel.” He glanced at Casey, probably hoping she wouldn’t take that wrong. He put an arm around Becca’s shoulders. “Becca doesn’t want to do this. She’s said so. And here—” He swept a hand toward Casey. “She would be different, but come on, Thomas. How could you not see what she just did? She’s perfect.”
    Ellen. Casey knew she’d heard that name recently. No. She’d seen it. On the notice about the garage sale for her orphaned children.
    Casey cleared her throat. “Didn’t she—Ellen, I mean—last week…”
    “Yes,” Eric said. “She died.”
    Silence again covered the theater, and Casey looked from face to face. Eric’s sadness, Becca’s discomfort, the two young guys without a clear expression.
    And the director’s stubbornly held jaw. “She’s not what we want.”
    Eric glanced at the rest of the cast, then back at the director. “Says who?”
    The director pushed himself from his seat, held a finger out toward Eric, then let it drop. Stiffly he gathered his belongings—briefcase, coat, umbrella—and put them over his arm. “Fine.” He looked at Casey, his chin held high. “Rehearsal tomorrow evening. Seven-o’clock. Don’t be late. And try to…” He waved a hand at her clothes. “Clean yourself up a little.”
    Without another look he swept out the double doors, allowing them to slap shut behind him.

Chapter Six
    “I’m sorry,” Eric said. “If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve warned you.”
    “Yeah.” Casey shook her head. “I wish you could’ve.”
    They sat on a bench outside the theater, the night air still promising rain.
    “Thomas is a head case,” Eric said. “He