“I’ve got something,” Tina said, slapping the folder onto a nearby crate. “A benefactor. Legit this time. No strings.”
She smiled, and the curtain rose.
Three months later, the marquee read: THE WALKING THEATER – EXTENDED RUN . Sienna was teaching a movement workshop in the lobby. Tina had convinced a local tech school to donate new lights. And Emma stood in the wings, listening to the rain on the roof—not a threat this time, but a rhythm.
Before Emma could answer, the stage door creaked open. Tina Kay swept in, shaking rain from her hair like a cat exiting a bath. She carried a manila folder thick as a brick.
On the fifth night, Danny D appeared.
“Well?” she said.