Saturday, April 2, 2016

The Colors of Hate – 3

“She is so asking for trouble,” Carrie muttered from where she stood in the shadows at the edge of the dance floor. As Carrie watched, Angela put her arm around Jim’s waist while whispering something to him. When Jim smiled in response Carrie saw red. “Can’t even leave you alone long enough to go to the ladies room,” she growled, stalking over to the pair, causing some of the people in her path to shoot worried looks at her as they got out of her way. Grabbing Angela’s arm she spat out, “Hands off my man.”

Angela looked at her with feigned innocence. “We were just talking about the show.”

“Right. And I’m the Queen of Sheba.”

“And a very lovely queen too,” Jim told Carrie, pulling her into an embrace. “My Queen of Hearts.”

Carrie rolled her eyes. “That was lame.”

“Yeah, guess it was.” He hugged Carrie tighter, smiling when Angela walked away. “Thanks for rescuing me. I wish she’d remember she and I are past history now, and quit with her games.”

“For sure. I was very tempted to scratch out her eyes, then figured it wasn’t worth breaking a nail. But next time she tries that…”

Jim stopped her words with a kiss. It lasted long enough that one of the other cast members sitting at the bar said, “Get a room, guys.”

* * * *

Just before midnight they were ready to leave. As they headed to the door Carrie paused, shaking her head. “Guess she finally found a victim.”

Jim glanced in the direction Carrie pointed. “Wonder who he is? He’s not one of ours.”

“Somehow I don’t think she gives a damn at this point. The way they’re dancing, they might as well just shuck their clothes and screw here and now.”

“You sure they aren’t,” Jim replied with a laugh, putting one hand at the small of Carrie’s back to get her moving again. “Come on, let’s go back to my place and see if we can make them look like amateurs.”

“I’m all for that.” They almost made it out of the club when she stopped again. “Someone’s not happy with her,” she said.

It took Jim a moment to figure out what she meant. “Oh boy, when did he come in?”

“I don’t know, but he’s definitely upset.” Carrie veered off, heading toward the man who was playing Arthur in the show. “Mal,” she said when she reached him, “why don’t you come with us. We’re going to get something to eat.”

Malcolm spun around to glare at her. “And leave her with that creep? Why she ever agreed to dance with him is beyond me.”

Carrie refrained from saying, ‘She came on to him, not vise versa’. Instead, she took the high road. “She’s quite able to take care of herself, Mal. No sense causing a scene. That sort of publicity we don’t need.”

Jim nodded. “She’s right, Mal. Come on. We’re going to Loggia’s,” he said off the top of his head, in an attempt to get Malcolm away from the club.

After a long pause and a deadly glare at Angela, who didn’t even notice, Malcolm turned away. “Sounds good to me. I need to be anywhere but here, I think.”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Carrie linked her arm with his to steer him to the door. “Good food, good company, and then a good night’s sleep so we’ll be ready for rehearsals tomorrow.”

“Twenty to one she’ll be too hung-over to show up on time,” Malcolm muttered.

“Well, that is her problem, not ours. But Frank will tear her a new one if that happens, and I think she knows it.”

“Okay, kids, shall we find something more interesting to talk about than the prima donna,” Jim said once they were outside the club.

Carrie and Malcolm nodded in agreement, then the three of them headed down the street to the all-night restaurant.

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