Work Text:
“...No, I have several questions, actually.”
“Shoot.”
Kipper furiously paced around the room, hot with frustration. “First off… why on a Thursday? Would it really be all that much trouble to push the thing to the weekend?!” She stormed in a circle, then shot around to face Dice, who sat relaxed nonchalantly in his dressing chair. “And—and!! The nerve to start the thing at six on the dot, like that gives us any time to breathe after the day’s done and the place is shut down.” She opened her mouth to start again, then stopped and cried out. “Oh! I just can’t wrap my head around these upper management decisions. It’s like they want to inconvenience me for fun or something.” Dice observed coolly as the steam gradually blew off.
It wasn’t unlike her to have small bouts of anger over the questionable choices that Wink made concerning their employees, and the occasions they’d try to organize. To someone who’d centered themselves around coordination and precipitating the chaos of a show’s stage, it was truly a mystery as to how the highest paid associates could fumble something as simple as an outing for drinks. Trying to think about it too much only induced a headache. Kipper groaned, pinching her brows as the migraine aura faded in and out.
To someone like Dice, poor organization was something he’d become accustomed to. To someone like Kipper, who’d only been on board for a mere eight months, it was something purely unencountered before, and a serious point of contention.
She drew in a breath deeply, then folded her arms and pointed her nose up. “I guess…it’s just annoying that we’re expected back at work the morning after. That’s all I’m really steamed about here.” Her expression softened, and her eyes briefly flicked with his before immediately darting to the floor. “It’s already five-fifteen…” she muttered.
Dice rose from his chair, giving a grand stretch before strolling towards the room’s center. “Well, Miss Manager, since you’re so good at time oversight and all…what does that give us time to do up ‘till then?” There was a bitter, fervent stare before she could fire back an answer.
“Well, I’d estimate two-thirds of that time would be allotted to gawking over yourself in the mirror and preening, so with that in mind, you’d better get started so you’re not the last one in the door tonight.” Dice scoffed, placing his hand on his chest in feigned offense.
Kip brushed off her pant legs and swooped up her keys, then started to the door. “With that said, I’m locking up. Don’t be long.”
Dice made a cloyingly sweet face back at her, though at this point, she could see right through his fatuity. Without turning to look back at the man, she continued through the door and out the back exit of the theatre.
It was no more than a ten minute walk back to the apartment, and Kip hung a left as usual down the bustling city street, packed with all the other people who’d just clocked out of their nine-to-fives. She’d wasted more than enough time babbling to Dice, and that left hardly any chance to pick out nicer duds for the evening. That wasn’t the biggest concern to wallow over, though. Shuffling around in her pockets, she fished out the folded paper with the venue’s address while she weaved through the crowds. She squinted at the scribbled ink print she’d quickly written out as Charley, her boss, had announced in between his usual daily driveling. These kinds of important details were seemingly minute to him, a “blink and you’d miss it” situation. Most had learned to adjust to it by now.
She sucked a breath. “I don’t recognize that street…”
Racking her brain, she tried her best to consciously create some kind of map in her head. New locations meant delegating extra time for navigation, and extra time simply wasn’t a luxury right now. Her footsteps hastened as the anxiety started to sink in. Five-thirty was nearing quickly, and if Kip knew one thing, it’s that time was always unrelenting.
As soon as the door swung open, there was one objective on Kip’s mind.
“Map, map, map, map…” she repeated furiously, flipping through shelf and table in some kind of feeble attempt at searching around. A familiar print presented itself in the form of a bookmark, and she pulled the book down, snatching the folded map out of the page. Flattening it out on the coffee table, and whipping out a pen, she quickly traced a route to the spot written on the card. “There!”
The air hung heavy for a brief moment, and the space that had been chaotic a second earlier was now an eerie, idyllic silence. Her eyes followed the drawn line once more to make sure all was right, and sadly, there was no doubt in her work. It was only a matter of seconds before full blown panic emerged.
“What do you MEAN it’s at the south piers?!”
Charley had, spectacularly, done it again. In a tremendous show of effort, he’d managed to book a place that was a half-hour drive from the nearest employee residence. Where most lacked a car, at that. He could honestly be lauded for how terribly difficult he could make mundane things be. Kip scrambled, in pure hysteria.
Sloppily undoing her necktie, she rushed to her closet, swiping through the rows of hung garments, then shook her head. No–my God–no time for that!
Knowing she’d have to make appearances in the same, tired, sweatied work clothes, she made a dash for the perfume bottle on the dresser and hastily coated herself with it, practically clouding up the room. It was far from ideal, but options were scarcer by the second. Besides, she could run a finger through any tangles and clean up any smeared makeup on the way there. Presentable was the main goal, now. One last mental checklist: keys, wallet, map–and she was back out just as quickly as she’d entered.
She spat in frustration. If there were two things she truly hated, it was not having any preparations, and being underdressed. They often went hand in hand. But if anyone asked, she could always forge some kind of silly excuse about it.
“Oh—taxi…taxi!” Her hand waved frantically in the air, and the yellow flash shot by, splattering rainwater at Kip’s feet. “Ugh!”
Lady Luck must’ve been on leave. “Without any notice…” she grumbled, shaking off the droplets, then stomping off southward. Pulling the cuff of her glove down, she finally glanced at her watch. Five forty-eight…there was already no shot on making it in a timely manner. And that wasn’t a good look for the studio’s stage manager on its own, let alone soggy and unclean. The options reeled back and forth in her head: Race to the site and only miss a few minutes of quality company time, or make a fashionably late entrance when half of the crew would already be clearing out for the evening. There was, of course, a third and final option, but Kip found that job security was an important value to hold in one’s heart.
She continued forward, keeping a solid pace as she followed the lines she’d traced on the map. At this rate, she figured she could be somewhat timely while also having a funny little story about the trip there prepared. As long as it made the superiors in attendance laugh, that was all that mattered. “The worst part,” she then thought, “is going to be the teasing from Dice.”
She was always on his case about timeliness and making sure each beat of the show lined up with the written cues. And just hardly a half-hour earlier, she’d done the same in his dressing room, unknowingly setting herself up for a comeback from him like no other. Seeing his knowing expression, sensing his predetermined victory over her, would be enough to make her turn right around upon entering. It was then and there that she decided. One brief drink and she’d be returning straight home, no exceptions. It was a long enough trek, and, as she’d loudly bemoaned earlier, they’d all be expected back in the building the morning after. The added notion of Dice’s egoistic presence stinking up the room on top of it all made the decision a no-brainer. Kip sighed as she silently planned her escape in advance. Quietly slipping out of a scene was, thankfully, a built-in skill that came with being a stagehand.
Six twenty-three.
She stared vacantly down at her watch now, tugging on her sleeves to dry out any sweat she’d accrued. A quick brush of the fingers through her hair, a tentative sigh and she pushed through the door to the building.
Immediately the stench of booze hit her nose, causing her to reel back instantly. As she drew in from the interior environment, the realization slowly came to be that this professional, organized company event…was being hosted at a speakeasy. Of all the places.
“Charley…” she groaned, sinking in hard-to-hide disappointment.
“I heard my name?”
The voice echoed across the walls of the bar. Kip tilted her head, bringing the arrangement of the next room into view. The long, elaborate table setup was like something out of a classical painting. And at the end, parallel with the room’s entrance, sat Charley Wink himself, the show’s production manager and CEO of the radio network. His hands were neatly folded and his signature goofy grin was unwavering on his face. Kip sheepishly entered upon his acknowledgement.
“Mizzz Parfum, dear. Pleasure to have you here! Although you are, um, roughly a half-hour late.”
A wave of laughter rippled through the room. Kip’s eyes shot to the floor in shame, but not before noticing Dice’s eyes glint deviously where he sat. She cursed inwardly. It had already started. All the fibs and fabricated tales she’d thought up on the dash there were already fading in her head…
“S-sorry sir. I…got lost.” That was all that could be mustered. The room practically roared, and Charley gently lifted a hand to silence it.
“That’s all right, missy. We’ve all had it happen before. You just missed the discussion of the er, seating arrangement .” Kip’s head slowly lifted. Arrangement? Everybody had most definitely arrived by now. Her eyes scanned the room nervously for a vacant stool. Nowhere to be seen except…
Ugh.
There, on Dice’s right, stood the single empty space at the table. She gritted her teeth, closing her eyes in warranted anticipation. Not wanting to cause any more of a scene than what had now unfolded, she meekly crossed, ensuring no eye contact whatsoever was made, and settled down beside him. Even without looking, she could sense his sinister turn rightward, and his burning stare down onto her.
As the chatter started to slowly build back up around them, she finally spoke. Shakily, but it was enough.
“Just let it out now. I know you’ve been waiting for me to get here just so you can say it.”
“Oh, is that right?” Dice straightened up, smiling devilishly. “You thought I was gonna take the low-hanging fruit here, didn’t you? Not even a hello before you go slinging familiar accusations onto poor old me. Heh.” He planted his hand on his chin. “No, no. I was just going to tell you that your tie’s on backwards.”
Kip gasped with a shrill peep. Frantically, her hands reached around her neck and adjusted the silk bow back to the front center, then weakly smoothed it out. She sank into the chair, dismayed.
He laughed heartily at the display. “Seriously, though. Lighten up, Pew! Charley said the first round tonight was on him. Did you want me to order you something?”
Her ears perked up at the mention of drinks. Consciously, she remembered the rule she’d set up for herself, and steadied her excitement. “Sure. A blinker, if you don’t mind.” It’d go down like juice and she’d give the cast and crew a warm Irish goodbye. Easy as cake.
Dice swiveled and murmured a few words to the bartender, who nodded in understanding and turned to the extensive array of bottles adorning the walls behind him. Then he pivoted back to Kip. “You know…” The skunk froze.
“It’s funny. I think this is the first time we’ve seen each other outside of work.” He hummed in amusement. “Isn’t it?” Her shoulders settled in relief. It wasn’t his usual teasing, and she gritted her teeth as she replied.
“Yes, funny…”
It dawned on her that even amongst their ongoing playful feuds and chatters behind the scenes…there really was no interaction beyond that. They’d be in the same space, denouncing the troubles of their respective work, and see each other off before doing the same the next day. The conversation seldom went deeper than that. She hardly knew a thing about the guy, despite hearing him babble endlessly to contestants on stage day after day. He was an enigma that way.
Their eyes locked, uncomfortably long as they each reached for the words to say. The noise of the bar faded into a near inaudible roar, no more than radio static as the two sat across from one another, closemouthed. The sliding of a glass across the table finally broke the tension, stopping in front of Kip, who had thankfully been looking for something to do with her hands this whole time. She obligingly snatched it up and took a hasty sip. Her face immediately twisted up. “Phew! Heavy on the grapefruit.”
Dice chuckled, mirroring her and taking a drink from his brandy. “Oh brother. You’re not a lightweight, are you?”
Kip cocked an eyebrow. “With all due respect, Dice, I’ve only been of age when this stuff’s been banned across town. It’s only fair that you understand that much.” She sipped again, face contorting the exact way once again. “Ugh!”
Dice sneered, watching the poor girl try and choke down her drink. It was laughable. Pathetic, even. “Look,” he began. “You’re doing it all wrong, first of all.” The man then practically snatched the glass out of her hand. Holding it up to his lips, he continued, “Don’t hold it in your mouth once you’ve sipped it. Throw it straight back, and the bitterness will hardly be tastable. Watch.” Kip protested as he then took a healthy drink, tossed his head back, and swallowed, holding his hands out like he’d done some grand, admirable feat. He held the glass out to her, and Kip grabbed at it impatiently.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to be so patronizing.” She eyed the glass, squinting. “And you didn’t have to take so much.”
He peered down into the now-empty cup. “Oops.”
She sighed. “It’s fine. I’ll get another.”
If she could’ve clapped her hand over her mouth right there, she would’ve. In her frustration, she’d forgotten about the one-drink rule set into place just minutes prior. Though, it technically didn’t count since most of it had been promptly embezzled. “Okay,” she thought. “This’ll be the last one, then.”
As Dice apologetically set the replacement drink on the table, he settled back in, intent to continue honing in on the conversation. “Sorry, Pew. I didn’t think my first instance of buying you a drink would be like this.” He shot a lighthearted wink, and Kip shrank, flushed, as the glass slid in front of her once again. It wasn’t unlike him to playfully flirt. Frankly, it was just in his nature to do so, and Kip had observed it time and time again with his daily interactions with contestants, associates, just about anybody he came into contact with. Still, one never knew how to conduct themselves when faced with it. She giggled awkwardly, and dropped it at that.
Clearly, he wasn’t through yet, though. He rested his elbow on the table, raising an eyebrow curiously.
“Charley tells me you used to work under Sally Stageplay.”
Kip choked into her glass upon hearing her mentor’s name. “Y-yes. Just before I came here.”
Dice pressed. “Fascinating. What all’d you do?”
She swallowed, oddly nervous. “All sorts. I managed plenty of productions, assistant directed…handled the promotions for a good while. But I think I outgrew the place, truthfully.” That statement was quickly met with an anxious swig. Dice stared intently, eyes unmoving. “You think so?”
“I mean, she agreed with me. It was time to move onwards and upwards, in her words.” Why was he badgering her with questions so suddenly? It was uncharacteristic. And her nerves were making the drink go down way faster than she anticipated. Her muscles tightened at the sensation of alcohol in her system.
“Well, aren’t you glad it brought you here so you could be forced to stuffy outings like this one.” He laughed deeply, then lowered his voice. “Too loud. My bad.” Kip snickered in response.
“...But you were lucky to be her protégée. Sally’s a master of her craft.” She didn’t answer that time. The silence hung over their heads for what felt like agonizing minutes. She stared into the bottom of her glass, and he shifted his eyes about the room, observing the other conversations that had unfolded around the table. Most members of the party had settled into their little cliques, and carried on as smaller, divided groups by now.
Then his voice piped up again, more sincere and forthright than she had heard before. “Do you miss it?”
“Of course I do,” Kip retorted instantly. “Every day. But it was getting too easy by the end. I wanted a challenge, something fresh and unfamiliar. That’s what this show is to me.” Pensive, she raised her glass to her lips and averted her gaze to the floor. It wasn’t the easiest subject. Talking too much about live theatre was going to make things too wistful. Pinching her eyes shut, she tossed her head back and polished off the drink just like he’d demonstrated.
As much as she didn’t want him to be right, Dice had hit the nail on the head with his guesses earlier. Kip was an absolute lightweight, for lack of a better word. The singular blinker had already sent swirls into her vision, and her equilibrium into a dizzying sway. The room around her seemed to become heated and heavy, and the sounds and sights of everyone had started to descend into an indiscernible blur. She raised an uncoordinated finger. “Another blinker,” she uttered to the bar.
Dice spun, gawking at her. “Can you handle that? One almost tipped you right over!”
She shot back a fiery look that startled him into silence. “I’ll be fine ,” she assured, closing her eyes as if to steady herself.
On set, backstage, Kip was not one for many words. When in her presence, you’d hear nothing more than whispered cues and time checks at the edges of the stage. Nothing more, nothing less. Any idle chit-chat would detract from the show’s process, and that wouldn’t look good on the quarterly proceedings. To those she wasn’t well acquainted with yet, the same was to be expected. Prattling on for too much to somebody you didn’t know was counterproductive, and more often than not led to oversharing to an embarrassing degree. That was at least how Kip saw it. Soberly, maybe.
Instilled with a little liquid confidence, she pivoted in her seat, facing Dice fully now. “Alright. Now it’s my turn to ask YOU a question.” He froze, taken aback by the shift in impertinence. Kipper waggled a finger and placed it on the lapel of his coat. “How come you’re so perfect all the time, huh? I don’t think it’s fair. You’re never late, never out of place, and everybody loves you no matter what. Why is that?” She planted her elbow on the table, and situated her hand to her cheek. Dice snorted nervously. One measly drink had erased any filters and inhibitions that stood in place before. “Is that a joke?”
She adjusted herself restlessly. “N-no, I mean it. How come I’ve never seen you make a mistake once? Not on stage, not in interviews, never on the air…how do you do it?” She glanced off, seemingly ashamed of what she was saying. It was almost like she was in disbelief of herself. “I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve gone and screwed something up. Of course, you know that already.”
Dice blew out a breath, lowering his glass to the coaster. “That’s not true.” He then lowered his voice to a hush. His eyes shifted from side to side before whispering. “I’d rather not announce it here, but there’ve been plenty of times on the show where I’ve misstepped. I’ve stuttered, stumbled, and voice-cracked my way through plenty of airings, and it hasn’t bothered nobody so far. At least, I ain’t had any complaints yet.” He smiled. “Chin up, alright? It gets easier.”
Kip’s lips were already on the edge of her glass again. “I sure hope so.” Then, after a beat, she started again. “I suppose I’ve just been nervous since I started.”
Dice’s eyebrow instinctively cocked at her words. “Why?” he coaxed. Intrigued, he turned his figure and leaned on the countertop, closer to her.
Already, she realized she’d been saying too much. She pinched her eyes shut and waved her hand in a dismissive motion in front of her body. “Ohh, no, no, I don’t wanna get into that. You don’t want me to get into that.” Dice smiled devilishly, knowing he’d struck gold. His signature chatty charm was about to kick in, which always worked whenever he desperately wanted to weasel his way into a topic.
“Oh, I think you do,” he purred. “Is there a reason you can’t tell me, then?” Kip struggled to counter.
She tossed back the second drink, tapping her finger on the bar to signal the barman. “W-well, it’s something I only reserve for close friends! That’s all!”
“Am I not your friend?”
His smile was overpowering. Kip cried out in defeat. “Gah!” Then, she rolled her eyes, uttering in admittance. “I suppose you are.”
His silent victory hung in the air, shining through his expression. The barman approached, finally breaking the tension of the corner. Kip straightened up. “Oh! A nice and easy, please. Two cherries if you don’t mind.” He nodded and disappeared in the other direction. Dice sat back in his chair, thoroughly impressed. “Champagne, Kip? I didn’t take you for that type!”
She nervously stuck a finger through her hair, brushing it sideways. “My family always let me try some for the New Year…that and the cola, it makes something actually palatable in the end.” As the barman returned with the mixed drink, she picked it up and pointed at the bottom. “And the maraschino cherries are the best part.” She took a swig, then gingerly dipped her finger in the glass and plucked the two bright red cherries from it. “Want one?”
“Of course.” He immediately popped it off the stem with his teeth. He spoke in between chews. “I think this place uses King Kola for their mixers. I used to advertise for them, you know.”
Kip nearly did a spit take. “For real?” Dice cackled at her response. He swallowed, then continued on. “Oh, they were our biggest sponsor for a while! I could go on for hours about the brands I’ve appeared for, my dear. We’d be here all night if we delved into that!”
Kip bowed in even closer, pleading. “Won’t you?”
His smile was tight-lipped, looking down upon her sorry groveling. “Well, I can, but only if…” He trailed off.
Impatiently, she stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. “Only if what? ”
“Only if you’ll tell me what’s making you so nervous all the time.”
Her puppy-dog eyes immediately dropped into a disappointed scowl. “Oh.”
He laughed, more uproariously than before. Heads in the room turned to see the commotion, and Kip shrank with discomposure. She shuffled in her seat, lowering her body, and Dice finally came down from his amusement.
“Alright, alright, I’m only kidding. You really don’t have to if you don’t wanna.” His eyes softened with a glint of sympathy, looking deeply into hers. Kip’s heart skipped a beat as their glances met. Genuine words and a meaningful look from the guy were something for the books, in her eyes. It wasn’t much, but it would still take you aback. She knew the guy had been coddled since he first hit the stage, and that the words “please” and “thank you” were rare in his vocabulary, so if it did even happen, chances are he meant it. Maybe that didn’t make the words mean more from him than anybody else, but she’d made sure to recall each instance of it.
“Thanks…” was all she could murmur out as her thoughts began to dance off. She tilted her cup upwards as she began to drink in the blurring scenery around her once again; the warm golden overhead lights turning into faint stars, the noise and rowdy voices of the bar reducing to a soft roar like ocean waves, only being broken occasionally by the sharp clinks of glass. The upbeat jazz music that had been playing when she entered had transitioned into those of soft, slow love ballads, lulling her into a trance.
Kip’s eyes started to space out, dizzy and half-asleep. Dice tilted his head, eliciting concern. “You okay?”
She waved him off again. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I think I just want to order again.”
As her eyes squinted, surveying the selection on the shelves behind the counter, Dice’s eyes shifted, face frowning, down to the three now-empty glasses in front of her. He grimaced, eyebrows furrowing. She’d already mentioned her difficulty with the substance, so her incessant need for more seemed wildly uncharacteristic. He’d seen it before, and the outcome was ne'er pretty. Protectively, he set his arm in front of her across the bar.
“...Maybe we should slow down.”
She frustratingly clawed at his sleeve. “You’re not my boss!” She wailed, practically tussling with the taller man to reach the counter.
He grabbed her hand calmly, lowering his voice again. His face was now mere inches from her as she protested. “Maybe not, but he is sitting just two tables down, and would hate to see a fresh face like you causing a scene. So let’s settle down, okay?” The barman, who was now carefully wandering over to check in, peered over. Dice discreetly motioned and then whispered to him. “Get her a seltzer water, please.” Kip slunk back in her stool, humiliated and disoriented. One hand lifted and rested on her temple. Dice reached over and grabbed some complimentary crackers from a dish, splitting open the pack and handing one over to her. She reluctantly accepted, munching silently while he watched her.
Luckily, Dice was a master of handling friends who’d gotten overzealous at an establishment like this. Plenty of Roll the Dice related celebrations had gotten far out of hand in the past, and Dice’s tolerance made him an excellent backer in these situations. He carefully took her hand and squeezed it to keep her alert. “How many was that, anyway. Three? Three and a quarter?” He jokingly counted the array of glasses in front of them. Kip sniffled, breathing uneven. Dice zipped his lip, seeing her genuine distraught. “I’m awful sorry…I got ahead of myself, didn’t I?”
“Noo, not at all.” He reassured calmly, even if she was totally going too fast. “I’ve seen it happen a million times, honest. You’re gonna be alright in no time. In the meantime, drink some of this.” He handed her the seltzer water that had just been set next to him. “That’ll help. I’ll bet you have a headache forming.”
Kip whimpered, moving her palm to her forehead and parting her bangs away from her face. “How’d you know?”
Dice smirked, a hint of understanding creeping back into his voice. “I know lots of things.”
Kip’s eyes were still unmoved from the food in front of her. “Not everything. ”
Dice sat up, tightening his expression. “Well, no, but I’ve come awful close in my time.” He swore he saw Kip’s eyes shoot up to him for a brief moment in the corner of his vision, but her head remained downturned and away. Maybe it was the inebriation, or the odd nature of the outing, but her bizarre vagueness was leaving him more puzzled than her usual snarky, backstage attitude would. It was best to drop it and move on.
The awkwardness from the silence that followed was unbearable. Kip continued wordlessly through her sobering remedy, while for once in his life, Dice wasn’t sure what to say next. He squirmed nervously watching her, worried. Shakily, he piped up.
“Should I call you a cab home?”
She raised her head in response to his voice, and her expression was suddenly stricken with desperation. Dice jerked back in surprise. He’d never seen a look from her like that, not one so vulnerable. Especially not around this crowd. And certainly not in the public eye. Clearly, the social and emotional filters had peeled away, and the exposed underside was uncomfortable and unexpected in the strangest way to him.
Her voice was weak, and pleading. Her fingertips tugged at the cuff of his sleeve. “Can you stay here with me…for now?”
Dice’s eyes darted around the room, his head practically swiveling, abrim with panic. He’d done his best not to give away Kip’s sad drunkenness and his subsequent handling of it to the group, and a question like that would certainly perk listening ears up. Especially the ones who didn’t need to be hearing it. He soberly stared at Charley’s table, where he seemed to be having a time of his own, and breathed with audible relief that he’d not paid attention to anything that had gone down yet. He bent over, whispering in her ear at just audible volume. “I can…for a little while. The place is already clearing out early, so it should be quieting down in here soon, okay? Then we’ll both be out in a blink.” Kip nodded softly. He settled back beside her, and Kip shifted to hold onto his hand, a tremor in her touch. He wasn’t usually the guy for direct physical contact, particularly from a coworker, but for such a particular, jarring instance, he’d allow it this once.
She breathed steadily. “Thanks for understanding.” Dice’s mouth parted, barely stuttering out a reply. “...This is nothing.”
She choked back a dry cough. “I just wasn’t thinkin’. I rarely do when I mess up. It’s that lack of thought that always gets me into so much trouble…”
Dice carefully played along. Comfortingly, he pressed his thumb into the top of her hand. “Mmhmm? What do you mean by trouble?”
“Like…stupidity, simply put. It’s all preventable if you actually think first. But I always forget to.”
Kip pinched her brow. The throbs of her dehydration headache were evenly spaced now, but still just enough to throw her off. Eyes shut, she pieced together her thoughts. “I just…I’m scared it’s gonna happen again.” Dice pressed, now slightly tense. “What’s going to happen again, Kip? You can tell me.”
Kip’s chest started to heave in and out, drawing in faster, and she began to choke up. “I… don’t want an accident to happen again…” Anxious tears started to well up. “I get hurt, somebody else gets hurt, it falls apart, and I can’t do anything to stop it!” Her body began to shudder, shoulders quaking. “I was thoughtless, and then…!”
Dice’s eyes widened in dread, and he furiously gripped her shoulders to steady her. “Kip, Kip, it’s okay!” He gesticulated, motioning his words. “This…this accident you keep saying. Was it at Sally’s theatre?” She shook her head. He patiently asked again. “Okay, then where?”
She hacked weakly. “B-before then…”
He sharply exhaled. “A long time ago, then. And it’s all okay now, isn’t it?” Kip sniffled hard.
“Five years…”
His grip on her shoulders held steady until her sobs lessened again, and her shaking settled down. Dice’s stare was piercing and chillingly serious. Finally, he asked. “Do you want to tell me what happened, Kip?”
Her gloved hands were now wiping away tears that had formed under her eyes. Her mouth was contorted into a frown.
He repeated himself. “Do you want to talk about it?”
When she spoke, the lump in her throat was still clearly audible. “Yeah…”
She folded her hands in her lap, talking straightforwardly. There was a good pause before she actually began, but when she did, it was far clearer than the stifled sobs and whimpers of the minutes prior.
“It was when I was still doing training at the educational level. I was so new to it all still. Would you believe me if I told you I started off as an actor?”
“No, I can see it completely.” Dice was motionless, transfixed.
“It’s true. They’d handed me the leading role in that season’s tragicomedy. I was blown away. Utterly honored. I read that script cover to cover, every hour, day and night to prepare for something so, so momentous. I had told everyone in my family to come see it.”
“...so what went wrong?”
“Truth is, I still don’t know. It was an oversight. A careless stagehand. Not watching my step. Who even knows…” Her voice was tight, pained from recalling it. “Maybe nobody had bothered to check if everything was flush.”
Dice stiffened. A chill swept through his body at the anticipation, at the eerie uncertainty.
“The show hadn’t even opened yet. It was tech week…everybody was doing a run-through like any other day. The photographers had showed up to grab a couple’o shots for the papers. We had this big, grand staircase that escalated into the center, and it was so beautifully illuminated, a chandelier, and gorgeous, structured flats that made you feel like you were in the room itself with the cast…”
She looked straight down into the nearly empty glass. “It was like a real life ballroom.”
Dice couldn’t even speak. He sat completely silent, eyebrows tensed as she carried herself away in the details of it all.
“I’d just had an entrance on the platform eight feet above all those beautiful stairs, spotlights and everything. I was so high up, I could peer allll the way back into the entrance doors of the house, even past those blinding lights. And it, it just happened so fast. Something, somewhere, just… buckled underneath. All I remember in the moment is a flash of black and white, the floor giving out…a scream from the wings. Maybe it was my own. It crumbled in a matter of seconds, and the next thing I knew, I was in a pile of wood and rubble, crying because I couldn’t stand up anymore.”
Dice’s lips parted in shock. “God, were you hurt? Was, was anybody else hurt?”
Kip nodded shakily. “I was lucky enough to be carted straight to a hospital. A few crew members had some minor injuries from the collapse, and the show had to be cancelled. Breaking the news was one of the harder things I had to do.” She propped her leg on the opposite stool, and rolled her pant leg up past the knee. “Look here.”
There, stretching from her shin to the start of her thigh, were four scars of varying shape and length. Dice clutched his chest in sheer repulsion. Kip chuckled nervously. “They, uh, sure had to put me back together after that!” It was a joke, but you could hear the poorly veiled anguish behind it. Quickly, she rolled the fabric back down to her ankle.
“It…took a few years for me to be walking fully normal again. And I haven’t acted since. I’m frankly too afraid to, anymore.” Her voice trembled, unable to stop spilling out. “That’s why I take things behind the scenes now. I can monitor a show safely and make sure…” She paused, contemplating. “...just make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else. To the people on stage now, like you.” With that sentence, she fretfully swiped up the glass of water and swiftly polished it off. Dice visibly struggled for a response.
Before he even could muster consolation, she was off again. “I really shouldn’t be saying this, but I envy you, Dice. You know that? Having the courage to go out there every day and give a flawless, no notes performance to thousands of adoring people. I can’t imagine how nice that must feel. To be in your shoes, completely fearless, not a single speck or scratch on you. I would give the world to feel what you feel.”
He was stunned silent. The crackling, fuzzy song ballad continued on and echoed faintly above them. Dice swallowed hard. “Now don’t go puttin’ words in my mouth, here…You can assume all you want, but that doesn’t make it true.”
“I wouldn’t call it an assumption. That’s just how it feels to me, you know? How I feel has nothing to do with you. I just need to get over it myself.”
“...h’okay. I’m awful sorry that happened, though.”
“...’s not your fault.”
The two stared fixated at different spots on the tile, caught in an impasse. Finally, Kip snorted, letting out an exhausted laugh.
“Can you believe we still have work tomorrow?”
Dice gave a guttural groan. “Please don’t say that. God, what time is it? Surely they’ll kick us outta here soon.” He glanced at his watch, then at the clock on the opposite wall. Kip interjected. “I think it’s our time to go anyway.” She jerked her head towards the other side of the room, where patrons were filing out, and the staff were just starting their nightly closing duties. They hadn’t even noticed, but Charley and the rest of the crew had also made a lovely Irish goodbye, just like Kip had initially planned that night. The room had become empty before their very eyes, leaving just the two alone in the bar’s corner.
“Yeah, okay. Let’s get you home. I think a rest as soon as possible would do you good.” He stood her up, slowly, from the stool, ensuring belongings were collected, and escorted her out the door. Kip, still rather inebriated, held tightly onto his arm, pressed into his side.
“Now, uh, you’ll have to show me the way back.” Dice coyly admitted.
She giggled, still firmly planted to his hip. “Oh, why? Did your chauffeur take you here?”
“...He did, actually.”
“HA! Oh, man, what don’t you have? I bet everything you own is plated with gold, too, am I right? I can see it now. Potted plants, countertops, toilet seats— “
“There’s no point in focusing on it now, Kip, please just tell me which street to take.”
“Okay, okay. We gotta go northeast from here…”
“...in simpler navigation terms.”
“Ah, wow, you really are sheltered. Up and to the right, Dice.”
Slowly, and steadily, they began making their way through the dimly lit streets of Inkwell City. Illuminated only by moonlight and streetlamps, the air was cool, and the walkways were much more barren than usual. Dice had taken note of the fact that Kip hadn’t let go of his arm once since they left, but chose not to bring it up for a myriad of reasons. It would have no benefit. Still transfixed by her story, he couldn’t help but stare down at her legs as she walked by him. The limp was hardly visible, not nearly as noticeable as she’d made it seem, but it was impossible to miss now in this moment. He felt a twist in his stomach and looked up ahead, straightly.
She hummed. “I don’t get to see much of the city at this hour…I’m usually in bed by now. And I don’t go out alone like this, either.”
Dice cleared his throat. “It is beautiful out. I’ll say, I rarely find myself in this part of town, let alone on the street itself. It’s actually kinda nice to be outside without all that glaring attention during the day.”
Her eyes floated up dreamily. “Methinks you should try it more often, then. If it’s so nice.”
He harrumphed. “Maybe.” Then he teasingly poked. “Stop having good ideas, will you?”
“They’re not common, so you should enjoy them when they happen.” She made a prudish kissy face, squeezing his forearm.
Sleepily, she pointed across the street. “We’re passing by my favorite patisserie, right over there. Le Macaron, was it? I think I brought the crew some cakes from there that one day we broke a ratings record. You remember?”
“Mhm.”
“The tailor’s is just a block ahead, past the square gardens. My friend Pippa’s usually there. I have to drop by so much and keep mending your torn suits there. If you squint, you can see the red and green awning. That’s how I know I’m close.”
“Is that right, now?”
Her head tipped to the left, landing in the crook of his arm and his chest. Dice instinctively flinched. Naturally, he was in no position to tell her to move, though, so he settled, steadying his heartbeat. “I won’t make you pass by the community theatre, but it’s not a far ways from here, either. Have you visited it?” Dice peeped down at his stage manager, who was now nestled in and comfortable against him. Her eyes were fixed on him, surprisingly bright with sentiment.
“Not in a long while. I’m sure it’s much different now.”
“Well…I’ll take ya sometime. Show you the ins and outs of the place. Sally won’t mind us being there, since it’s the off season.” She smiled warmly at him.
Dice felt his face redden, in an uncomfortable sensation. “W-which way was your complex, again?”
“Towards Beaufain Street.”
“Right that way, then.”
From there, the walk remained quiet, only with the gentle buzzes of the old lamp bulbs, the croak of frogs in the night, and the chilling gusts that blew above them. Kip latched onto Dice as the wind whirled through her. Occasionally, she would point out a street name, a historical marker, an old building with a story behind it. Dice could only comment on her being a whiz on the city’s layout and history, practically in awe at the proficiency.
“You sure do know your stuff, don’t you? How long have you lived down here?”
“Three years now.”
“And you’re already doing better than me. That’s a feat, I’ll say.”
“Memorization is my knack, then. Comes with the territory.”
He looked around, perturbed, as they stopped at the crosswalk. “Where was your place, again?” Kip quizzically tapped her cheek, then replied. “206 Montague. It’s just up here.” She took his hand, leading the way up the block. Unquestionably, he followed.
As they arrived at the stoop, shadowed by treecover, Dice observed the brick, storied residence. It wasn’t outrageous by any means…but it wasn’t much , either. He supposed it was what a backstage position at a sleazy theatre could get you. The rooms seemed rather puny, too.
He lowered one eyebrow, trying to sneak a look through the windows above. “Do you live alone?”
“Yes, and what a strange question to ask, Dice. It’s the middle of the night. But it’s just me and myself up there… if you don’t count all the fish I take care of, too.” She snorted at herself.
Dice’s face contorted. “I see…”
“Well, goodnight—”
Before his sentence could even leave his lips, Kip slumped forwards onto him, clasping her arms around his back and pressing hard into his form. He exhaled sharply at the weight on his chest, then sucked in a breath for air, barely taking in what had happened. Her head nestled between his neck and shoulder, and she pulled him in so that they were flush, closing any space left between them. It was as if time had suspended. He stood petrified, hands raised at each side as she refused to let up on her hold.
“Thank you for taking care of me tonight.”
“D-don’t mention it…” Talking felt impossible.
He could feel his face turning bright hot, and shooed the sensation away as much as he could. To make matters worse, there was no way he could pry away from the hug, even if he wanted to.
His hands stirred, starting to trail downwards, so slowly that you could hardly tell they were even moving. Ever-carefully, they made their way to Kip’s back as well, and he faintly returned her gesture. At that moment, all that could be heard was their own breathing, the rise and fall of their chests. Kip shifted to her tiptoes, to whisper into his ear.
“You said you know just about everything. I don’t think that’s true…”
“You don’t?”
Her answer was delayed this time. She took a second to ponder, smiling as she chose her words carefully. “Not at all. Sometimes I think you’re so focused on yourself, you miss what’s right under your nose. Not that I mind.” Dice could only stare off into the sidewalk ahead of him, the dark, indiscernible scenery, physically unable to look back at Kip at all. Although, in this very moment, he wanted to more than anything.
“It’s really no bother that you don’t. It’s not like I can just tell you. You get what I mean?”
Dice’s voice was a hoarse, shaky whisper. “No. I can hardly tell at all…”
“That’s okay. I didn’t expect you to.” Her fingers curled, digging into the fabric of his jacket. “I think I’m still figuring it out myself.” Slowly they untensed, hands trailing to his front now, tangled in his lapels. “I’ve been denying it this whole time, telling myself ‘no’ while I watch you from backstage. Memorizing every beat, every step and swing of your routine. Envying what you have. You’re just so talented and caring and I just don’t know what to make of it all, and, I…I think I like you, Dice.”
Her hands finally released him, impressions from her grip staying behind in the material. They ever-slowly dropped down to waist level, fatigued. “I wish I was able to tell you that…so you could know it too.”
Dice stood frozen. His feet were fixed to the ground, arms stiff, digits stuck in position. Any self-sanctioned attempt to cover up his blush was dead and gone. He parted his mouth to speak, but only a few stutters and high-pitched squeaks could be emitted at this point in the process. She’d, admittedly, proven herself right, though. The man hadn’t conjured a single clue towards that outcome. Any emotion she’d shown him had been under the stress of working, so it came across as contempt or displeasure. If that was her idea of showing kindness and attachment to him, then boy, was he blind to it.
“Not to worry, Kip. I—I think I know good and well.”
He quickly shook his head out, partnered with a rattling noise. He had to maintain professionalism and composure above all else, right now. He nervously fixed his hands to Kip’s shoulders. She smiled woozily, eyes lidded and sleepy. The sight alone made his heart do backflips. Before he even could assert himself, she cooed again, setting him right off track.
“You’re wonderful, Dice.”
“And you are drunk , Kip! And very tired! ” The exhaustion was present in his shout.
“It’s so late now. You should come in…stay the night. We can go to work together in the mornin’ that way.”
Fazed by the implications, his eyes darted up and away into the night sky, unable to keep eye contact with her. He broke into a nervous sweat. “I–I can’t, sweets! You…you know I can’t do that!”
She grumbled. “Just a suggestion…”
At this point, he forcibly composed himself. Clearly she was in some kind of lucid state, plastered, and suffering from a lack of sleep. And right now, he had to be the voice of responsibility for the next sixty seconds.
“Listen to me,” he ordered. “You’re gonna go upstairs for me and go right to bed, okay? Don’t start on anything else tonight. Get some rest. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you, but we’ll be back together in the morning like usual. Like always. And we can just… dismiss whatever’s been said this evening. You’re not feeling well, I can tell.”
Kip pouted for a moment, hesitating, then stepped in and laid her head on his chest again. She spoke faintly with her face buried in.
“I’m sorry it had to come out this way. All of it.” He patted her back in understanding, and with that, she calmly turned and stepped up to the apartment’s entrance. Before she was through the door, though, she looked back down one last time to Dice, who still stood beneath her, his eyes clouded with contemplation now.
She smiled weakly, blinking a few times. “Goodnight, Dice.”
He just managed a delicate wave back.
“See you at eight,” he breathed out, watching her slip inside the building.
Work was going to be an absolute delight the next day.