Page 33 of Love and History
“How do you know so much about this stuff?” He must have noticed my wary expression. “Seriously. You’re a scientist. I don’t understand the connection to Shakespeare. Why is he so interesting to you?”
I veered my ancient Honda around a slow-moving truck. “Many reasons. Obviously, there isn’t a direct connection, but science is enlightenment and the Renaissance period was one of great rebirth politically, economically, artistically. A revolution in science began at the end of the Renaissance period with unprecedented advancements by some of the greatest minds ever to live—Galileo, Descartes, Sir Isaac Newton.”
“And Shakespeare.”
I turned into a school parking lot. “Yes. He wasn’t a scientist. However, he was a wordsmith who transformed how we perceive characters, plot, language, genre. Goodness! Do you realize how widespread his contribution is to society? His work includes tales of love, envy, war, ambition, hubris. And he invented words we still use today, like lonely, dwindle, uncomfortable—I could go on.”
He unfastened his seat belt and shifted to face me. “You’re an interesting guy, Holden.”
“You mean I’m a nerd,” I corrected.
“Yeah, but you own it. I respect that.”
I knit my brow and shot a suspicious look his way. “You’re being nice again. That makes me nervous.”
“Nervous?” he scoffed.
“Look, you’re doing me a favor and I appreciate it, but I have to ask you to please be serious.” I pointed at the school auditorium meaningfully. “Everyone in there is a volunteer. We do this because we love it.”
Ezra’s grin was part devil, part angel. He crossed his heart and winked as he opened the passenger-side door. “I’ll play nice. I promise. You’re gonna have to trust me.”
Did I trust Ezra?
Not so long ago, I would have adamantly denied it, but I had to admit, he was trying.
I also had to admit that he looked every bit as regal, majestic, and scrum-de-licious as I’d thought he would in that red velvet robe. Even the balloon-style breeches worked. Jerry had been far too skinny to pull them off with aplomb, but Ezra was a perfect fit. And his reaction when Val first held up the costume was worth the price of admission.
“The tights have been laundered. You can try them on at home if you prefer and these go on next, cinched with this belt,” Val explained, pointing at a hanger affixed to a prop backstage.
Ezra stood with his hands on his hips. His Bermuda shorts, Loyola Marymount tee, and Nikes under the royal robe lined with faux black-and-white fur should have been preposterous, but no…he exuded might and power and gosh, he was swoon-worthy.Darn him.
He cocked his head slightly and squinted before turning to me. “What the fuck are those?”
“They’re like shorts,” I replied, giving him a brief once-over.
Val nodded. “Try them on behind the partition.”
Ezra sighed heavily as he picked up the hanger and gave the costume another once-over. “The string goes in front?”
“Yes,” Val said with a reassuring smile. She watched him move to the dressing area and let out a low whistle of approval. “Nice job, Holden. He’s absolutely perfect. Does he know any lines?”
“No, I haven’t given him the script yet. Be patient. Ezra is an amateur. He’s never done any acting and he doesn’t know much about history, but he’s willing to try.”
She tapped her pen on the clipboard in her hand thoughtfully. “Fine by me. He’s got star appeal. All he has to do is puff up his chest and walk like a boss, and he’ll be all right. Add a few ‘art thous’ and ‘heretowiths’ and we may have a Renaissance sensation.”
I curbed my eye roll and my observation that Val hadn’t been this excited about the production in years. The fact that she was blustering around, checking on the “actors” with a clipboard in hand instead of sitting in a corner with her head buried in her phone might have something to do with our newest member being easy on the eyes…especially in a royal robe. It was kind of funny, but hey, maybe Ezra’s presence was the element needed to give Renaissance in the Park a new shot of life.
Everyone seemed a little more enthusiastic than usual. Jordan practiced her lines with vigor, Winston played his instrument flawlessly, and Presley fussed with the sets. The rest of the volunteers gathered in small groups rehearsing or chatting quietly, but I noticed them steal curious glances his way. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the entire HRS had a crush on Ezra.
I could see why. He was handsome, undeniably charming, and…nice. They didn’t know he was also an arrogant ne’er-do-well.
Except he wasn’t. He’d taken the morning off from studying to help me out and meet a bunch of people he had nothing in common with.
I’d half expected him to opt out, citing that our intimate encounter made things too uncomfortable. And I would have understood. But Ezra showed up. He’d been pleasant and friendly to everyone, voicing self-deprecating concerns about being worthy of the role before donning the cape superhero-style.
So far, so good. Now we just had to go over some linguistic tips and—
“Is this right?” Ezra stepped away from the partition and strutted forward, pushing the cape so it billowed gracefully behind him.