Read Online Something Wicked by Carolyn G. Hart - Free Book Online
Authors: Carolyn G. Hart
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with pleasure and ducked her head.
The contrast between the two women was striking. Carla stood at an awkward angle, her dark hair falling across her face, while Sheridan posed beside the crystal derrick, her bodyas clearly on display as a Rubens nude. Most women wouldn’t have dared to stand beside the glittering oil derrick, fearing they would be overshadowed, diminished. Sheridan was not. She dominated the room, and she knew she did so. It was clear in the arrogant lift of her head, the satisfied curve of her scarlet mouth, the blatant play of her dress against the glistening brass ceiling. And tonight, she was clearly in high good humor. She squeezed Carta’s arm, then waved an imperious, diamond-heavy hand, beckoning Sam Haznine nearer.
Sam swerved immediately toward Sheridan. The pudgy director clutched the hand of a girl who couldn’t be a day past nineteen and who sported the spikiest purple-and-pink hair Annie had ever seen. This must be sweetie, she thought, carefully avoiding Max’s twinkling eyes.
Sheridan’s disdainful glance moved from the top of that neon-bright hairdo to the white, out-of-style sandals, just slightly scuffed. Then she looked away, dismissing the girl. She spoke to Sam as if he were alone. “Come tell us what happened today, Sam.”
The girl’s face flushed, and she grabbed at Sam’s elbow. “Let’s go get something to eat,” she said loudly.
Sam gave her a hunted look, but he scuttled directly to Sheridan, the girl trying to hang back.
Sheridan’s lips curved.
Annie had a sudden sharp desire to puncture that envelope of self-satisfaction. What would Sheridan do if Annie loudly announced how Shane had performed behind the backdrop with a randy refugee from the sandbox set? Annie profoundly wished she had been endowed with what Miss Marple so lovingly described as “a wicked tongue.”
Sheridan proceeded to underline her lack of regard for social niceties. Turning her unreadable amber eyes toward Sam, she drawled, a ripple of amusement in her voice, “Here I am with the director and two stars of the opening play. Now’s my chance to find out what happened this afternoon. Shane came home from rehearsal as puffed up as a tomcat in a backyard brawl, and I can’t get a word out of him.”
Sam looked seedy in a dinner jacket that had seen better years. The collar had frayed and the cummerbund wrinkled against his paunchy abdomen. He had approached his hostesswith a smile. Now it stuck to his face like garnish on yesterday’s tea sandwich.
“Nothing much,” he said sourly. “Somebody’s screwy idea of a joke.” But his watery blue eyes were full of dread. He stuttered in his eagerness to deflect Sheridan. “Want you to—to—to meet Tonelda. This is Tonelda Divine—and she’s going to be a great actress.”
The flush was receding from the girl’s face. She puffed her spiky hair and simpered.
Sheridan nodded curtly. “Come on, Sam. What’s it all about?” she persisted. “Shane muttered something about a Shakespeare play.”
Carla moved restively, and almost spoke.
“A superstition. Theater people are chock-full of them,” a robust voice announced at Annie’s elbow. She looked up at Vince Ellis, who had an Irish face and a mop of brilliant red hair. He played Officer Brophy in the play and was also owner and publisher of the
Island Hills Gazette,
the weekly newspaper that served Broward’s Rock. “Has something else happened at the theater?”
Sam made a valiant stab at looking unruffled. “Naw. No big deal. Listen, I meant to tell you what a great Brophy you are, kid.” It wouldn’t have played even in Paducah, and Vince was nobody’s fool. With mounting curiosity he looked at Annie and Max.
Brusque as always, Carla broke the short silence. “Oh, come on, Sam. You can’t keep it quiet.” She turned toward Vince. “Somebody included a quote from
Macbeth
on one of Shane’s prompt cards.”
Vince whistled.
Boredom replaced the avid interest in
The contrast between the two women was striking. Carla stood at an awkward angle, her dark hair falling across her face, while Sheridan posed beside the crystal derrick, her bodyas clearly on display as a Rubens nude. Most women wouldn’t have dared to stand beside the glittering oil derrick, fearing they would be overshadowed, diminished. Sheridan was not. She dominated the room, and she knew she did so. It was clear in the arrogant lift of her head, the satisfied curve of her scarlet mouth, the blatant play of her dress against the glistening brass ceiling. And tonight, she was clearly in high good humor. She squeezed Carta’s arm, then waved an imperious, diamond-heavy hand, beckoning Sam Haznine nearer.
Sam swerved immediately toward Sheridan. The pudgy director clutched the hand of a girl who couldn’t be a day past nineteen and who sported the spikiest purple-and-pink hair Annie had ever seen. This must be sweetie, she thought, carefully avoiding Max’s twinkling eyes.
Sheridan’s disdainful glance moved from the top of that neon-bright hairdo to the white, out-of-style sandals, just slightly scuffed. Then she looked away, dismissing the girl. She spoke to Sam as if he were alone. “Come tell us what happened today, Sam.”
The girl’s face flushed, and she grabbed at Sam’s elbow. “Let’s go get something to eat,” she said loudly.
Sam gave her a hunted look, but he scuttled directly to Sheridan, the girl trying to hang back.
Sheridan’s lips curved.
Annie had a sudden sharp desire to puncture that envelope of self-satisfaction. What would Sheridan do if Annie loudly announced how Shane had performed behind the backdrop with a randy refugee from the sandbox set? Annie profoundly wished she had been endowed with what Miss Marple so lovingly described as “a wicked tongue.”
Sheridan proceeded to underline her lack of regard for social niceties. Turning her unreadable amber eyes toward Sam, she drawled, a ripple of amusement in her voice, “Here I am with the director and two stars of the opening play. Now’s my chance to find out what happened this afternoon. Shane came home from rehearsal as puffed up as a tomcat in a backyard brawl, and I can’t get a word out of him.”
Sam looked seedy in a dinner jacket that had seen better years. The collar had frayed and the cummerbund wrinkled against his paunchy abdomen. He had approached his hostesswith a smile. Now it stuck to his face like garnish on yesterday’s tea sandwich.
“Nothing much,” he said sourly. “Somebody’s screwy idea of a joke.” But his watery blue eyes were full of dread. He stuttered in his eagerness to deflect Sheridan. “Want you to—to—to meet Tonelda. This is Tonelda Divine—and she’s going to be a great actress.”
The flush was receding from the girl’s face. She puffed her spiky hair and simpered.
Sheridan nodded curtly. “Come on, Sam. What’s it all about?” she persisted. “Shane muttered something about a Shakespeare play.”
Carla moved restively, and almost spoke.
“A superstition. Theater people are chock-full of them,” a robust voice announced at Annie’s elbow. She looked up at Vince Ellis, who had an Irish face and a mop of brilliant red hair. He played Officer Brophy in the play and was also owner and publisher of the
Island Hills Gazette,
the weekly newspaper that served Broward’s Rock. “Has something else happened at the theater?”
Sam made a valiant stab at looking unruffled. “Naw. No big deal. Listen, I meant to tell you what a great Brophy you are, kid.” It wouldn’t have played even in Paducah, and Vince was nobody’s fool. With mounting curiosity he looked at Annie and Max.
Brusque as always, Carla broke the short silence. “Oh, come on, Sam. You can’t keep it quiet.” She turned toward Vince. “Somebody included a quote from
Macbeth
on one of Shane’s prompt cards.”
Vince whistled.
Boredom replaced the avid interest in
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