a/n: Hey all, for your information, this chapter has been re-written. Mainly because it sucked before. Lol. And secondly, because it read like a dead end to me. It couldn't go anywhere. Of course, I just realized that now. Unfortunately, this story might be fairly unstable over the next few chapters, while I decide the direction in which the story can go. As it is, to actually be able to complete this fic, I'm going to have to tweak some things. Hopefully, for the better. So please bear with me while I sort stuff out. In the meantime, Hope you guys do read on and enjoy! :)

That's What It's All About

“Marga, we’re waiting,” the preppy-looking lead actor called out loudly from stage front and center.

The expression on Marga’s face read like she wanted to do more than shoot daggers at Josh from her eyes, like say shoot real daggers at him.

Fortunately, the director had other ideas. “Leads!” Mac bellowed. “Can we possibly move on with this scene—or is there going to be another natural disaster??”

And Josh nearly blew out his breath in relief when Marga whirled around promptly to head back to practice. The director, Mac, was a big elderly man, whom Josh thought had the strangest resemblance to George Lucas, and he was sure that, like Marga, he would not want to be on his bad side.

Alice breezed over, conveniently grabbing Josh by the arm to drag him down the stage towards the seats and away from the limelight. “Guess wha-at?” she sang out. “I convinced Mac to let you stay,” she beamed brightly before stopping short to turn to him in alert, “oh, but you can’t cause any more interruptions, he said,” she relayed to him. “Or…” she tilted her head to one side as if trying to recall a memory, “or—what was that Mac said? Or…” she trailed off.

“Or you would be fired, you ditz,” the guy with the clipboard who had spoken before reminded Alice loudly as they arrived at the seats near the –teens rows.

Alice let out a bubbly giggle, “Oh right!”

And Josh had to stifle a chuckle, as he was starting to get an inkling of where the cliché that actors are airheads came from, being that it was actually true. “Hey man, I’m Josh,” he started, putting out his hand to shake, as they sat down.

“Oh, darling,” the guy, short of purring, took his hand eagerly then squeezed it, “soft hands. Do you work out?” he prompted.

“Oh Josh,” Alice started again, gesturing to the guy, “this is Layton. He’s one of our drag queens—I mean, playwrights,” she said mischievously.

Josh stopped short, blinking. “Oh.” He didn’t quite know what to do, seeing as his hand was trapped in Layton’s grip now.

Layton raised a finely plucked brow, “Does this bother you, darling?”

Josh cleared his throat, “Uhh…no, of course not,” he replied, even as he withdrew his hand from Layton’s. “You’re gay.”

That made Layton and Alice laugh, but more in amusement than offense.

“Straight shooter, this one,” Layton commented. “Don’t worry, darling. I tend not to jump your bones until I’ve gotten to know you better. A lot better,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

And this time, Josh laughed with them, realizing that they were probably trying to make him uncomfortable on purpose in the first place. He grinned apologetically, “Sorry for barging in on your rehearsal thing.”

“Oh, don’t even!” Layton exclaimed. “You’re the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to this play thus far. Look,” he gestured around the theater, making Josh crane his neck to look around to see that everyone who was scattered seated on the rows behind them were all looking in his direction and whispering among themselves. Of course, most of the cast and crew were composed of women, particularly younger bubbly female actresses.

Josh faced front again, clearing his throat. “Okay…” But being Josh McCabe, he was so used to it, it didn’t bother him.

Center stage caught everyone’s attention all of a sudden when Mac yelled out, “Cut! Stop! What the hell was that??”

Josh looked up. The director was waving his arms wildly in displeasure as he marched up the stage to correct the scene for what made it seem like the millionth time. Apparently, Mac’s directing technique involved yelling absolutely everything.

Josh could see Marga frowning as most of the wrath seemed directed at her, but as Josh cast a look around he noticed that the entire cast was all wincing like they were the one being yelled at, or maybe they could just sympathize all too well. He cringed. “Wow, is the director always sort of a…” he hesitated.

“A pompous tight-ass?” Layton supplied.

“A loud jerk?” Alice put in.

Josh blinked at their frankness. Obviously it was no big secret.

“Again! Marga, for god’s sake, what the hell was that??” Mac yelled out again, making half the cast jump in their seats. “Do you want your debut work to be eaten alive by critics? Is this the sort of performance I’m going to get tomorrow? Am I the only one who cares that we don’t all look like amateur buffoons at curtain? From the top,” he directed. “Do it again! And do it right this time!”

Alice feigned a shiver, her eyes widening in emphasis. “Yikes,” she remarked. “At least Mac’s found someone else to scream at aside from me.”

“But you deserve it every time,” Layton told her. “I never thought I’d see the day when Marga’s immunity crashed and burned,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s usually always in the zone.”

Josh shifted in his seat. Even he could tell that Marga was preoccupied. Her lines seemed hurried, awkward. She could barely finish her monologue. Meanly, he thought that it might have had something to do with his being in the theater, and he inwardly grinned in triumph. But the next thing Marga did made Josh stop short and lean forward in his chair, his jaw dropping in surprise. After her line, she leaned up against that preppy-looking guy on stage with her to plant a kiss right smack on him. And instantly, the other day at his porch when Marga had kissed him in the same exact way flashed back in his mind.

Of course, the guy she was kissing now reached out to put his arms around her, pulling her closer to him, as if to deepen the kiss passionately. He knew it was just a stage kiss but Josh, for some reason, got annoyed anyway, and he didn’t see why the guy had to be kissing her for quite that long.

Layton and Alice didn’t notice Josh’s expression and continued talking. “’Course we all know Marga’s not too fond of kissing scenes—don’t ask me why,” Alice pointed out. “Pat’s a really good kisser,” she remarked with a sigh, getting a faraway look on her face, referring to Prince Charming.

Layton added, “I know Marga’s not too fond of this scene altogether. It was part of the re-write. You know how we writers feel about getting re-written.”

At that, he narrowed his eyes and something clicked in Josh’s head. Wait a minute… he shook his head briskly, spotting Layton’s clipboard and making a grab for it. “Hey!” Layton called out, but Josh ignored him. The page it was flipped open to read,

Act Three – Scene 12.

EXT. Day. Hamilton’s Porch.

“What in the—” Josh’s jaw dropped progressively as he flipped through the script. It couldn’t be… He could hardly believe it! Was this play about him??!

--

It was well past sunset by the time Mac decided to wrap things up. Josh checked his watch, creasing his forehead. He didn’t even realize he had spent the rest of his day at the theater, waiting around for Marga. He realized he could have left. But after finding out that the play that Marga was both starring in and had co-written was based on him? A guy’s plans change.

Layton and Alice had gone backstage to get their stuff and most of the other cast and crew were already streaming out through the exits. He was heading out the same way when he spotted two of the more particularly aggressive younger female cast who seemed to be headed in his direction. He tried to avoid them but they were more than eager to catch up to him.

“Hey Josh,” Isabella, one of the younger female cast, cooed at him short of anchoring onto his arm as he made his way up the aisle towards the exit. “Has anybody invited you to opening night tomorrow yet?” she beamed at him.

“Oh absolutely!” Cassandra, another of the female cast who was following them up, turned syrupy sweet eyes at him. “We usually have a big party afterwards. It’s going to be absolutely awesome!”

Josh gave her an apologetic, yet winning smile, even though he wasn’t the least bit interested. “That does sound great girls, but I’m afraid I’ve already got plans tomorrow.”

Isabella looked particularly disappointed. “Oh, are you sure you can’t get out of it? It would be such a shame,” she cooed again.

Josh had to clear his throat as they arrived at the theater foyer, where the bored-looking guy at the ticket booth had already gone, “Tell you what, I’ll think about it,” he gave them a casual smile, and Isabella and Cassandra both giggled in excitement before they walked off headed towards their dressing room or somewhere where they would probably giggle some more about what had just happened.

“My god, you never give it a rest, do you?” Josh heard Marga’s no-nonsense tone as she had witnessed the whole display and his eyes lit up in alert.

a/n: Unfortunately, I'm going to have to put this story on hold as due to life stuff, sad as it is, I feel I have lost the pieces that would make this story complete. I do hope to pick it up again later on, if and when I get the inspiration back. I am however scratching around in my head for another awesome story that I can be inspired write about, but in the meantime, I'd love everyone to read my other completed fics.

Thanks a lot you guys for keeping posted through all the stories and all the awesome reviews that keep me going. I'll be back later. Hopefully, so will my inspiration. :) Til then, here's me. Ciaoz...