Free Behind the Scenes by Mari Carr

 
    Chapter One
     
    “Pass me the rum, Becca.”
    Becca Preston grabbed the bottle of Bacardi and handed it to Bill before powering up the blender on her own batch of daiquiris.
    “Becca, when you get a chance I need two Heinekens and a vodka tonic.” Belinda, the new waitress, reached across the counter to grab a handful of cocktail napkins. “Is this place always so crazy?”
    Becca grinne d as she popped the tops off the beer bottles and stirred the mixed drink. “There’s a new show opening tonight. That always guarantees a full house.”
    Belinda gave her an exhaust ed look, murmured a quick word of thanks, then darted off to deliver the drinks.
    Emma, part owner of Scoundrels, sank down on a barstool at the end of the counter. “We’re screwed.”
    Becca tried to decide if she’d heard her boss correctly. The music was blaring, making it difficult to hear anything that wasn’t shouted. “Why?”
    Emma’s shoulders slumped. “Angie fell down the stairs at her building. She’s in an ambulance right now on her way to the hospital. EMT thinks she broke her ankle.”
    “Shit.” Suddenly Becca understood Emma’s concern. Angie was tonight ’s lead in one of the sex fantasy shows Scoundrels, one of L.A.’s hottest night spots, was famous for. Emma jokingly referred to the erotic entertainment she created as “classy porn.”
    T he shows were hot, while never quite crossing over a line that would get the actors arrested for performing lewd acts in a public place. Emma delved into people’s darkest fantasies, creating the illusion of sex on stage. The shows pulled in patrons from all walks of life—blue-collar, businessmen, even movie execs—and several Scoundrels actors had actually gotten their big breaks after being discovered by producers who attended the shows under the guise of searching for new talent.
    After six years as a Scoundrels bartender, Becca had learned sex evened out life’s playing field. Everyone who walked through the doors came partly out of curiosity, but mainly because they wanted to see their own sexual fantasies brought to life.
    Becca flicke d a quick look at the patrons sitting at the bar. Everyone seemed good, so she gave Bill a nod. “I’m taking five.”
    Bill nodded and continued filling a couple of pitchers.
    Becca walked around the counter, leaning against the railing next to Emma. “So what are you going to do?”
    While Emma was essentially her boss, Becca had also come to view her as a friend. Both of them were professional enough to recognize the line between personal and business. They never let it become blurred. Becca didn’t shirk her responsibilities or expect special treatment simply because she was friends with Emma, or because her father was a Hollywood legend and everyone knew Becca didn’t really need the job. And Emma didn’t play favorites. Period.
    Emma shrugged . “I don’t have a clue. Tonight’s huge. A sell-out. I’ve been advertising the surprise actor for weeks. His appearance here is going to be a major coup for us.”
    “So you keep saying, but since I don’t know who tonight’s lead is, I can’t really sympathize.” Emma had been remarkably tight-lipped about the show’s leading man. No matter how many times Becca begged for a hint, Emma simply gave her a slight smile and told her she’d find out when everyone else did—the moment the man walked on the stage.
    Emma rubbed her eyes wearily. “Doesn’t matter now. We’re forty-five minutes away from show time and I don’t have a leading lady.”
    “Why don’ t you do it?” The answer seemed fairly simple. Emma was no stranger to the Scoundrels stage, typically performing with her sexy husband, Jack, once a month.
    Emma shook her head. “I only act with Jack.”
    “Surely he’d understand.”
    “It’s not about him. I just couldn’t perform with another man. Jack’s the only one who…” Emma’s wor ds faded away, but Becca filled in the blanks. Emma and Jack were