Free Almost in Love by Kylie Gilmore Page A

on stage,” Amber said.
    “Try out for the Major-General’s daughters. Then I’d be right next to you.”
    Amber shook her head. “That’s okay.”
    “Aren’t you even curious what it’s like to be in the cast? It’s so fun, all the rehearsals over the summer, and we go out after rehearsal a lot, plus the show, and the cast party. It becomes like a family by the end.”
    Amber brushed back and forth. The black would need another coat after this one. “I’m good with just painting.”
    Steph put her brush down and stood. “Come on. Just watch some of the auditions. I really want you to do this with me.”
    She stopped painting and looked up. “Why?”
    “Because you’ve been moping around, and I know you’re just going to spend the whole summer holed up in your apartment, painting.”
    “I’ll go out sometimes.”
    “With who? I’ll be busy here, and Daze is up to her eyeballs teaching infant massage classes and chasing Bryce around. Come on, hang out with me here this summer. It’ll be a blast.”
    Amber heaved a sigh. “You’re not gonna stop bugging me about this, are you?”
    Steph grinned. “No. I really want you to give it a try this year.” She held out her hand and pulled a reluctant Amber to her feet. “Obviously you like the shows, or you wouldn’t help out every year.”
    “I just like to paint. I’m only here because of you, my friend.”
    Steph stomped her foot in mock outrage. “Get your ass out to that auditorium.”
    Amber laughed. “Fine, Miss Bossy. I’ll watch a bit, but no promises.”
    She capped the paint cans and followed her friend to the auditorium. She slipped into a seat next to Steph near the front. The director, Toby, the stage manager, Edith, and the choreographer, Jasmine, sat in the row in front of them, evaluating each person. Right now, a guy with a huge beer belly was giving a version of “I am a Pirate King” that was nearing the high range of a soprano singer. His T-shirt didn’t quite meet the waistband of his sagging jeans, and he kept hitching up his pants.
    Steph cringed as the man’s voice cracked. She and Steph exchanged a look.
    “That’s how I would sound,” Amber whispered.
    “How does a big guy like that have such a girly voice?” Steph whispered back.
    The song mercifully ended. No one clapped.
    “Thank you,” Toby said. “Cast list will be posted this evening at five p.m. Next!”
    A tall man bounded on stage in full pirate regalia—white, puffy shirt unbuttoned to show off lots of muscular chest, a black bandana tied rakishly around his shaggy hair, a thick black belt with a sword on one side, tight black breeches, and knee-high black leather boots.
    “Wow,” Steph breathed.
    “Yeah,” Amber said. She leaned forward, straining to see his face. Something about him was familiar.
    “Ahoy, landlubbers!” he called into the audience. “I am the Pirate King!”
    Amber leaned so far forward she nearly fell out of her seat. She knew that voice. Bare. Was it really him?
    The man nodded to the pianist, the music started, and he launched into “I am a Pirate King” with a booming baritone that filled the auditorium. He sang, he strutted, he swaggered, even brandished his sword a few times. He finished with a dramatic bow.
    Everyone clapped.
    Bare slid his sword back into its sheath and inclined his head. “Thank ye, ye scurvy lot.”
    Toby stood. “Who are you?”
    “I am the Pirate King.”
    Toby grinned. “You are now. I’m the director, Toby Whalen. We’re so glad you stopped by today. Rehearsals start Monday night.”
    Bare nodded once and exited stage right.
    “I’ll be right back,” Amber told Steph before slipping out of the auditorium. She hoped to catch Bare before he left. She caught sight of his back as he was heading down the hallway to the exit.
    “Bare?” she called.
    He turned. “Amber?”
    “What are you doing here?” they asked at the same time.
    “I’m auditioning,” he said at the same time as she