Free Stage Fright (Bit Parts) by Michelle Scott

I inhaled deeply, wiped my sweating face, and got a quick drink from the fountain between the bathrooms.  Unfortunately, by the time I walked into the lobby, both of them had left.  Hedda had returned to the gallery, and the elevator was descending towards the first floor.
    If I wanted answers, I’d have to be quick.  Because Hedda was mobbed with admirers in the gallery, I went for the stairs.  I raced down as swiftly as I could, but by the time I hit the ground floor, Isaiah was already halfway out the front door.  Without stopping to catch my breath, I chased him into the freezing cold night.
    Unfortunately, his shuffling gait didn’t slow him down.  Since one stride of his long legs equaled two of mine, I couldn’t keep pace.  Halfway down the block, I lost sight of him.
    Shit!  I turned in a circle, searching the sidewalk.  Maybe he had ducked into a bar or a convenience store.  Or perhaps he’d driven off in one of the cars parked along the curb.  In any case, he was gone now.  Frustrated, I turned back towards the Muse.
    A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders and yanked me into an alley.  Before I could cry out, Isaiah pinned me against the brick wall.  He raised his arm, ready to strike.  Something flashed in his hand.  My eyes widened in horror.
    Just as suddenly, he let me go and stepped back.  The object in his hand disappeared like magic.  He closed his eyes and blew out a breath.  “ Never follow me like that!”
    My heartbeat drummed in my ears.  I put my hands to my chest.  “What the hell?  Are you with Special Forces or something?”
    “I thought you were someone else.”
    “Who?  Charles Manson?”  I eyed his jacket, wondering what his weapon was, and where he’d stashed it.
    “Did you have a reason for following me?” he asked in a gentler voice.
    I started to inquire about the Cipher, but then remembered the coffee shop in the galleria.  Talking about my nightmare in a warm, well-lit room would be better than outside in the cold, dark alley.  “Would you like to get a cup of coffee?”
    He frowned.  “I don’t drink coffee.”
    “Well, steamed milk then.  Or hot chocolate,” I said desperately.
    He shook his head and walked away.  “Not tonight.”
    “Wait!”  I chased him back onto the street.  “I want to know about the Cipher Theater!”
    He stopped walking and turned around.  “What do you know about the Cipher?”
    “Nothing,” I admitted.  “That’s the problem.”
    His eyes held mine.  “What’s your name?”
    “Cassandra Jaber.  Cassie.”
    “Cassandra, do yourself a favor and forget about the Cipher.”
    He turned away again, but I put my hand on his shoulder.  Under his jacket, his muscles were as hard as granite.  When he turned towards me, I said, “I auditioned at the Cipher last spring, and I know that something bad – something really bad – happened to me there.  But I can’t remember it.  Ever since then, I’ve been having these panic attacks.  They’re ruining my life.  I can’t work, I can’t sleep...”  I shook my head in despair and blinked back tears.
    A trace of pity entered his amazing eyes.  “Let’s go get that coffee.”
     
    The coffee house was nearly empty.  Isaiah paid for our drinks and brought them to a table in the corner.  “Double espresso after dark?  That’s living dangerously.”  Now that we were inside, the tension had drained from his shoulders.  However, his solemn expression sat so well on his face that I wondered if he ever smiled.
    “It’s only six thirty,” I said.  “Besides, we actors live on the edge.”  I clutched the cup with both hands, grateful to be warm again.
    “So you’re an actor.  Is that why you were hanging with the Bleak Street cast at the Lamplighter last night?”
    Oh, crap.  He did remember.  I stammered out an apology, but he cut me off.  “You have a terrific voice.  Summer Nights never sounded so good.”
    My cheeks grew hot and I