Chapter 63: Confrontation

Julianna was in high spirits when she got home. Rehearsals were going smoothly, and her leads were performing better and better with each run-through they did. Admittedly, she hadn’t spent too much time with them today, but in the last run-through, everyone hit every mark, and executed every step and sung every note perfectly. She was humming to herself as she fit her key into the lock, and called out, “Rich, baby, I’m home!”

There was no answer. Frowning, she looked around the main living area, but Richie was nowhere to be found. She called him on his cell, but there was no answer. She left a brief message, and went to take a shower. As she entered her bedroom, she stifled a gasp. Richie was sitting there on the bed, staring at the doorway. And he looked mad.

“Baby, didn’t you hear me call out?” She laughed nervously. “You surprised me.”

“No more than you surprised me today,” he said coldly.

“What are you talking about?” Julianna was confused, and a bit uneasy. He looked angry, hurt, and, well, dangerous.

“You lied to me today,” Richie said, “and I don’t like being lied to.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Julianna’s uneasiness was turning to annoyance. She didn’t like this cryptic game, whatever it is.

“You know damned well what I’m talking about,” Richie said. “Stan told me all about it.”

“Stan? He told you what, exactly,” Julianna demanded.

“If you have to make me say it,” Richie said, disdain dripping from his voice. “I came to the theater to find you and apologize for earlier today.” He shook his head. “Imagine my surprise when I couldn’t find you,” he finished bitterly.

“You should have checked with the booth,” Julianna said. “I always have a radio on me; they could have called me and let me know you were here.” She was still puzzled. “But what does this have to do with Stan?”

“Stan set me straight on some things,” Richie said.

“And so we go, back around in a circle. Will you just stop a minute and tell me just what the hell you’re talking about?”

Richie shook his head. “Mark,” he said, but didn’t say anything else.

“Mark what?” Julianna said, exasperated. “Jesus, Rich, stop making me drag this out of you one sentence at a time. What the hell is going on?”

“Mark is what’s going on,” Richie said, his eyes flat. “Stan said that you decided that Mark could hang out at the theater.”

“WHAT?” Julianna was incredulous. “I’ve said no such thing! Why on earth would he tell you that, and why the hell are you getting all bent out of shape about this? You’re being ridiculous.”

“Then what the hell was Mark doing there, palling around with your leads like he owned the place.” Richie looked daggers at Julianna. “Level with me, what the hell was he doing there?”

“I’ve been doing nothing but leveling with you.” Julianna was shaking with rage. “I have no idea what he was doing there, but you can bet your obstinate ass I will find out.” She pointed an unsteady finger at Richie. “You have one hell of a nerve, pal. You’ve apparently got a trust issue here and I don’t deserve it.” She turned on her heel and stalked from the bedroom.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Julianna,” Richie said, springing from the bed and following her. He caught her arm and turned her roughly. Julianna yanked her arm from his grasp and shoved at him, sending him backwards several steps.

“Do not put your hands on me in anger, Rich,” Julianna said, heat and pain firing from her eyes. “You are scaring me.”

“Don’t try to turn this around on me. I’m not the one cavorting with my ex and letting him back into your life.”

Julianna just shook her head. “You aren’t listening to me, you stubborn jerk,” she said quietly. “If we don’t have trust, we don’t have anything. I can’t believe you’re accusing me of, well, I don’t know; just what exactly is it that you’re accusing me of?”

“You lied to me,” Richie said simply.

“I already told you I didn’t,” Julianna said. “If you don’t believe me, there’s nothing I can do to change that.” She walked into the kitchen, and put the counter between them. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she willed them away. “You believe what you want. But I will not spend the next couple of weeks fighting with you. If you believe me, get over it. If you don’t,” now she couldn’t hold the tears back, “then you need to go back to Connecticut with your friends.” She crossed slowly to the door, seeing the shocked look on Richie’s face. When she reached the door, she turned back to look at him. “The choice is yours,” she said, then left her apartment.



Mark was congratulating himself on neatly slipping back into the show. He had talked to Sam and Lila about the show and they gushed on and on, and it was all Mark could do to not puke. He had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that they had strong voices. He told them that after the show’s run was done, they should consider a recording contract, and guess what? He was someone who could make that happen for them. They were understandably excited, and anxious to get a contract in place, naming Mark as their manager.

On the way back to his office, Mark dictated a rudimentary contract to his secretary. He made sure that there was a clause in there stating that he had final rights over what work the pair did and did not accept. It was a standard clause he added to most every contract, and usually, the simps were so eager to have “A Manager” that they signed without a second thought. He smiled to himself. Sam and Lila were young and naïve; this will be a piece of cake. And, he thought, he’d make sure they had nothing to do with his bitch of an ex-wife after this run of the show was done.


Several hours later, Julianna returned to an empty apartment. Her heart was heavy, because her phone hadn’t rung. She ran to the bedroom, and found the drawers that had held Richie’s things gaping open and conspicuously empty. His toiletries were gone from the bathroom. He had left. He didn’t believe her.