His Secret Admirer

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Ken thumbed through Jim’s sketches, nodding at some, shaking his head at others as he pushed his fingers through his graying hair.

“This one’s not right. She needs to show more cleavage,” he said at one point.

“No she doesn’t.” Jim scrubbed one hand over his short beard, trying not to sound snide as he replied, “It would be completely out of character, and wrong for the time period. She’s a prim and proper, small town librarian.”

“I think I know her character,” Ken snapped back. “This is for the party.”

Jim bit back a retort, just telling him, “I will not lower the neckline. Not for her dress, not for any of the women’s. I know what I’m doing, like it or not.”

Ken’s mouth tightened. He picked up another sketch. “At least you got these ones right. Do we have the fabric for the plaid suit? Okay, I guess we do,” he added fingering the swatch Jim had stapled on the back of the design. “What about the rest of the men’s suits, and the Quartet’s matching jackets?”

“The suits will come from stock. We’ll have to make the striped jackets for the Quartet. A lot of the women’s dresses we’ll remake from ones we’ve already got in stock.”

“As long as the audience doesn’t recognize them from previous shows.”

“Damn it, Ken, you say that every time. Has that ever been a problem?”

“No,” Ken admitted. “Are we renting the uniforms for the band?”

“No. I talked with the music director at one of the high schools. He’s willing to let us use theirs for free, as long as we take good care of them and dry clean them after the run of the show.”

“Okay. It looks like you’ve got everything covered.” Ken traced his finger along the neckline of the one dress. “You’re sure you can’t…?”

Jim sighed. “Yes, I’m sure.”

* * * *

Jim spent the remainder of the week working with his crew on the costumes. He’d often thanked his lucky stars that the owners of the theater realized the importance of having good costumes, and didn’t balk, too much, about the cost.

Since the theater had a resident company, there was no need to spend Tuesday taking the actors’ measurements. Jim had them on file, and unless he thought someone had gained, or lost, weight since the previous show they’d been in, he worked from the measurement sheets. The only ones he didn’t have on file were for the kids. One of the seamstresses had spent part of Saturday getting them during the first meeting of the cast.

By Friday afternoon, he and his crew were well on their way to having the basics of the costumes sewn, or pulled from stock. He arrived home Friday night feeling as if he’d managed to accomplish everything he’d planned for the week.

He fixed dinner, with Callie following his every move, obviously hoping he’d drop something—which he did, on purpose. It was their normal routine at mealtimes and had been since the day he’d first brought her home from the shelter.

With dinner eaten, and the dishes in the washer, Jim decided to catch a movie that had just opened at the multiplex in a local mall. Checking to make certain he had his wallet and keys, he told Callie he’d be back, then left the apartment, going down to the lot behind the building where he kept his car. Twenty minutes later, after finally finding a parking spot at the mall, he was entering the multiplex. While he waited in line to buy his ticket, he had the strange feeling that someone was watching him.

Looking around, he didn’t see anyone who seemed to be the least bit interested in him. Nerves, because of the notes? He chuckled. Or ego, because I’m irresistible. As if.

With his ticket in hand, he stopped at the concessions stand to buy a small soda, grumbling, “This damned thing costs almost as much as the movie.” The girl behind the counter smiled in commiseration before asking the person next to him what they wanted.

The theater was crowded, unsurprising since it was a Friday night. The lights were dimming as he walked down the aisle, looking for a seat, when someone bumped into him from behind. If the soda hadn’t had a lid on it, it would have splashed several of the people close to him.

“Sorry,” someone whispered.

Jim turned to see a young man, his head bent as he stared at the floor before looking up at him momentarily.

“Hey, no damage done, so we’re good,” Jim told him, smiling. He might have said something more if he hadn’t finally spotted an empty seat. It took crawling over several pairs of legs, and an apology when he stepped on someone’s toes, before he got to it. By then the trailers were starting and any thought of the young man who had bumped into him vanished.

* * * *

He smiled at me. He didn’t really see me, but he smiled at me. A wave of elation washed over Alan, and he almost forgot he was looking for a seat. He had just come out of a bookstore farther down the mall when he’d seen Jim enter the multiplex. On impulse, he’d followed him inside, hovering at the fringes of the ticket line to see what movie Jim was going to. Once he knew, he bought his own ticket, barely in time to see Jim enter the theater. He hadn’t meant to bump into him, but in the semi-darkness he’d stumbled and—And made a fool of myself, but it was worth it. He smiled at me. Not that it meant anything. He was just being nice, but still…he smiled at me.

* * * *

Jim didn’t think of the small incident in the theater again until he was back at his car, after the movie was over.

That poor guy was terrified I’d make something out of his running into me. That’s not me, but of course he couldn’t have known that.

As he thought more about the guy, Jim had the feeling he’d seen him before, although he couldn’t put his finger on where. It was recently, though. Like…He snapped his fingers. Last Saturday, at Laterza’s. The lonely guy in the corner. He must live somewhere in the area, if it’s the same person. He chuckled as he turned the car on. He’s my secret admirer, as Mazie puts it, which is why he keeps showing up. If he really is and he’s stalking me, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I could take him on with one hand tied behind my back.

The truth, Jim figured, since the guy was a good four inches shorter than his six-one, and probably twenty pounds lighter. He’d blow away in a stiff breeze. He wasn’t wearing glasses, though, so it’s probably not the same guy.

Pulling out of the lot, Jim laughed. “I’m jumping at shadows, or more like I’m conceited enough to think I’m worth stalking. Yeah, someone’s leaving those notes, but it has to be a woman. That is so not a man thing. At least not any man I’ve ever met.”

He’d known his fair share, mostly as friends and nothing more. The occasional one’s he’d hooked up with had not been the sort who would have written what seemed like…

Love notes is the best way to think of them, I guess, from someone who’s fixated on my smile, of all things. He leaned over quickly to check what his smile looked like in the rearview mirror. Just like anyone else’s, as far as I can tell.

“Yeah, the notes are not a man thing. Ergo, that guy is not the one writing them. It’s just coincidence we both were at the same place at the same time, and nothing more.”