Searching for Billy Shakespeare

Searching for

Billy Shakespeare

by

Crista McHugh

Intensely introverted and socially awkward grad student Kate Mireau has loved only one man since she was a little girl.

William Shakespeare.

Unfortunately, he died over four hundred years ago.

Since no modern-day man will ever compete with the Bard’s wit and wisdom, Kate is destined for dissatisfaction in matters of the heart. Besides, any attempt she makes to step out of her comforting world of books usually ends in humiliating disaster. But when she agrees to help her new roommate’s brother prepare for an upcoming audition, she meets a man who makes her pulse race almost as fast as Shakespeare’s insults. ‘Tis said the course of true love never did run smooth, and Kate discovers that Gabe is not an aspiring classical actor—he’s one of Hollywood’s sexiest leading men.

Experience has taught Kate that she’ll just end up embarrassing them both. Will she retreat to her safe world of beloved plays and poetry, consoling herself with the notion that he is a star out of her reach? Or if all the world's a stage, then maybe Gabe is her chance to find there’s more to life than just words, words, words.

CHAPTER 1

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,

Men were deceivers ever.

Much Ado About Nothing 2.3.61-2, Balthasar’s song

Kate!

Livvy thumped the table and toppled my stack of dusty tomes like a tower of Jenga blocks. The bang drew angry glares from several of the students in Butler Library, not to mention scaring about ten years off my life. My cheeks grew warm from all the unwanted attention, and I leaned forward so my messy brown hair acted like a curtain to shield me from it.

Sorry, she whispered as she knelt on the floor to help me restack the books. Her spiky blond hair barely showed over the top of the table.

What are you doing here?

I’ve come to spring you from this place. She grinned and gathered my notes.

You say that like this was jail. Besides, I still need to work on my dissertation, unlike some people I know. I snatched my notes back from her. Envy clawed at me. She’d finished her dissertation three months ago.

Sociology is a little more cut and dry than English lit. She rubbed her nose ring. You look like you need a break. Why don’t you join me and Aisha for a beer and a game of darts? It’s Friday night, after all.

I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my eyes. Even after spending ten hours trying to organize my notes, my dissertation was still in complete chaos. You’re not going to let up until I agree to come with you, are you?

Not a chance.

She would continue to pester me until I caved. Okay, I said with an overly dramatic sigh, but let me go home, drop off my stuff, and wait for Mike.

Livvy frowned. Why wait for that douchebag? Screw him and make a girls’ night of it.

I rolled my eyes, a smile twitching at the corner of my mouth. Livvy had never bothered to hide her dislike of my fiancé, and her barrage of insults had almost taken a comical twist to them. Mike needs a break, too.

Yeah, I’d like to give him a break, she muttered.

Livvy—

Fine, I’ll play nice.

We took the B train to Brooklyn. The weak January sun filtered through grimy windows as the train rocked across the East River. Livvy babbled non-stop about the various local bars she wanted to go to, but I was only half-listening. My mind was still in the library, trying to dissect the political nuances of Shakespeare’s plays.

Ooh, I like her, Livvy whispered and pointed to a woman getting off the train who had the body of a prima ballerina in the Russian ballet.

I thought you were in love with Aisha.

I am, but I still have eyes. She crossed her arms and stretched her legs out now that most of the people had emptied the car. But back to tonight. Which bar do you want to hit first?

We’ll ask Mike and see what he says.

She snorted. I already know the answer. ‘No lesbo bars.’ You’d think after spending four years in Seattle and six years here, he would get over his friggin’ homophobia.

He’s from a small town.

You’re always making excuses for him.

No, I just know him better than you do, I replied as the train pulled into our stop.

I’m still trying to figure out what you see in him. You’re smart and confident when you’re not around him, but the moment he walks into the room, you’re the submissive little woman.

How could I explain it to her? Mike and I had been together since our senior year of high school. He was my first and only love. Always comfortable and dependable, he was my Mike. He’d even followed me to New York City so I could pursue my dreams of getting a PhD from Columbia, even though it meant that he turned down a job at Microsoft. If that wasn’t love, I didn’t know what was.

Instead, I just smiled and followed Livvy to her apartment, where she dropped off her bag and changed her clothes. Then we went a few blocks down to my place.

It’s strange getting home before Mike, I said as I unlocked the front door to my building.

Another sign you spend too much time in the library.

When I opened the door to my apartment, I never expected to see Mike lying naked on the couch. Nor the equally naked woman on top of him.

I froze, my breath a prisoner of my lungs until Livvy plowed into me and pushed me across the threshold.

The frigid silence that hung in the air surpassed awkward. I knew awkward. It was a word that I’d been called for as long as I could remember. This veered into devastation territory, the sharp dagger of treason digging deeper into my wounded heart with each ragged inhalation.

Livvy recovered the quickest out of all of us. Nice tits, she sneered, her voice laced with a heavier than normal dose of the venom she usually reserved for Mike as her gaze flickered over the woman. How much did they set you back?

I wish I would’ve been the first to strike with an insult, but my lips only trembled in silence as I stared at the two of them. This was Mike—my Mike, my fiancé—with another woman.

The absurdity of it confounded me. This had to be some sort of dream, a hallucination caused by inhaling too much dust in the library. Delusions of a fevered brain. But the searing pain from Livvy squeezing my arm as she pulled me out of the apartment cruelly reminded me that this was all too real.

Kate, please, I can explain. Mike lunged for me, but I turned and ran down the hall without looking back.

Back off, asshole, Livvy replied from the top of the stairwell as I ran down the stairs.

I needed air. I needed distance. I needed the sort of solace I’d never find inside.

I stumbled out into the street.

My throat tightened from the sob I refused to let erupt from my mouth. I couldn’t stay here. The images of his betrayal choked me like a hand wrapped around my neck, so I ran. I ran as though the hounds of hells were chasing me.

Half a block later, I finally stopped and gulped the cold air. It burned in my airways and forced tears to my eyes. But I refused to allow my grief to consume me.

Livvy caught up with me and wrapped her arm around my shaking shoulders. Are you all right?

I shook my head. My tongue fumbled to make coherent words and failed.

She pulled me into a fierce embrace. I always knew he was a first-rate jerk, but I never imagined he’d do something like that.

I focused on moving air into and out of my lungs. The icy chill helped numb the pain in my chest. What did I do that would cause him to cheat on me?

She led me into an alley between two buildings, her blue eyes filled with the concern of a genuine friend. You’re worrying me, Kate. Cry, scream, do something. You can’t keep this bottled up inside you. Would it make you feel better that I warned him not to follow you? Cold air causes shrinkage, and he’s already slighted in that department. And I told him that.

I forced a smile for her. She was trying her best to cheer me up when my entire world had come crashing down around me.

That’s better—you’re not completely catatonic. She kissed me on the temple. You can crash at my place for a few nights until you suss things out.

Suss things out? Would anything ever make sense about this? The one person I trusted above everyone else had become my personal Brutus.

Livvy led me back to her apartment, where I numbly sat on a chair while she called Aisha and explained what happened. The pity in her voice nauseated me.

I tuned her out while my mind kept replaying the moment I walked in on Mike and the other woman. With each pass, I picked up on the details I had overlooked before. He’d bolted off the couch as if it burned him. Then, the guilty shadows in his eyes when they’d met mine. No, he’d never planned for me to come home early today.

What would have happened if I had chosen to stay in the library a few hours longer? Would I have continued in my blissful ignorance about this afternoon’s events?

I didn’t know if that was a good thing or bad thing.

I sat there, hands in my lap, and stared at a crack in the plaster wall until Livvy nudged my shoulder and knocked me out of my stupor. Aisha’s got expensive taste.

What do you expect from a model? I replied, thankful to be discussing something other than the disaster this day had become.

Livvy put her coat back on.

I realized I’d never removed mine the whole time I had been there. Where are we going?

El Kasbah.

I nodded and stood, even though I’d never heard of the place. That sounds good.

Livvy wrinkled her brow for a second, but then grinned. Perhaps we can put something in a hookah and get you feeling a bit better later on.

We got back on the train and headed to the Lower West Side to the lounge where Aisha was waiting for us.

As soon as we entered the room, Livvy paused and whispered, Seeing her still takes my breath away.

At a low table across the room, Aisha reclined on the richly colored cushions that complemented her dark skin. As soon as she spotted us, she rose with the elegance of Misty Copeland. Standing nearly six feet tall with a figure I would kill for, she definitely got her fair share of stares. And yet, when Livvy approached her, Aisha’s full lips curled into a smile just before she kissed her.

Seeing their love for each other made my heart ache all the more. Mike hadn’t looked at me that way in years. I peeled off my gloves and crawled on the cushions across from them, not wanting to disrupt their happiness. Hi, Aisha, I mumbled when they finished.

She flipped her ebony hair over her shoulder. Livvy told me about Mike.

I winced when she said his name. The wounds were still too fresh.

Men are pigs, Aisha continued in a know-it-all tone. I would never dream of such behavior from my Livvy.

Love, let’s not talk about us right now. We need to cheer Kate up.

They exchanged glances in a brief, unspoken conversation before Aisha nodded and turned to me. I took the liberty of ordering one of their Scheherazade martinis for you. They are to die for.

I wasn’t much of a drinker, but the pink cocktail in front of me looked tempting. I took a sip and decided it wasn’t too strong. Wrapped up in their own conversation, my friends left me alone with my drink. Before too long, my glass was empty, and I was ready for another.

I forgot how and when the night got out of hand. Music thumped through the speakers, and three drinks later, I felt adventurous enough to dance. Alcohol seemed to cure me of my two left feet. Once I was hot and sweaty, I returned to the table and accepted the hookah pipe that someone offered me. At that moment, I realized I had always been the one who played it safe. I didn’t take chances. I’d never indulged in the spontaneous. I’d made a road map of my life back in high school that I’d never been tempted to veer from.

Plain, boring, nerdy me.

No wonder Mike cheated.

It was an epiphany I’d probably needed four years ago.

Screw playing it safe. I inhaled, and the room swam in front of my eyes.

The rest of the night played out in fragments. There was more dancing, at which time my inherent lack of grace reared its ugly head when I tripped over a table. Then I was wedged between Livvy and Aisha on the train so I didn’t fall on the floor. Of course, after a night like that, I paid the obligatory homage to the porcelain god, followed by crashing on the couch with a trashcan nearby just in case I hadn’t completely emptied my stomach earlier.

Welcome to day one of the new (and hopefully improved) Kate Mireau.

CHAPTER 2

I am fire and air; my other elements

I give to baser life.

Antony and Cleopatra 5.2.287-8, Cleopatra

I never knew how excruciatingly loud a coffee grinder could be until the next morning.

I opened my eyes and immediately shut them. The evil day star, better known as the sun, magnified the throbbing in my head. I sat up and immediately wanted to hurl. I grabbed the trashcan and clutched it between my thighs.

Good morning, Kate, Aisha said from the kitchen. Would you like some coffee?

I peered over the couch. Even at this ungodly hour, she looked stunning in her tiny silk robe. Damn models. Yes. No. Maybe.

Would the benefits of caffeine outweigh the risks of vomiting?

Leave her alone until I can fix her a nice fry-up. Livvy kissed Aisha on the cheek before coming over to me. She pursed her lips as she studied my appearance, which I’m sure was the exact opposite of her girlfriend’s, and sighed. You look a bit worse for wear.

Be honest, Livvy.

All right, you look like total shit.

I pulled the blanket over my head. I had very poor and unhappy brains for drinking.

She sat next to me and lifted the edge of the blanket to look at my face. I should have stopped you after the second cocktail.

Don’t even tell me what was in that hookah.

Aisha snickered. So, you remember that? You weren’t as drunk as I thought you were, then.

I rested my head on Livvy’s shoulder and closed my eyes. My head throbbed too hard to think clearly at the moment.

No worries, she said while she gently smoothed my hair. Once we get you perked up, we’ll figure out what to do next.

Like find a new apartment, Aisha added.

I opened my eyes in time to catch the dirty look Livvy gave her.

No, she’s right. I stood and clutched the couch until the room stopped spinning and my legs felt sturdy enough to not buckle from under me. I’m going to start with a hot shower and maybe some coffee after that. Then I’ll start looking for a more permanent place to crash.

As long as you’re not thinking of going back to him, Livvy said as I took careful steps to the bathroom.

In truth, the thought had never crossed my mind until then. Last night, I was ready to never speak to Mike again, but now that the cold dawn of reality had pierced the fog of Scheherazade martinis I’d drowned myself in last night, I was faced with a tough decision.

I let the steamy water clear my mind while I weighed the pros and cons of moving out. An affordable, rent-stabilized apartment with the man who cheated on me versus trying to find someplace I could afford on my grad student income. There was no way I could live on my own in a place that wasn’t a roach motel. I would have to get a roommate.

And therein lied the rub, for who knew what kind of psychopath I could end up with?

The odors of smoke and sweat wafted up from my clothes when I put them back on, but they would have to do until I could get my things from the apartment. Livvy was a good six inches shorter than me, and nothing that draped Aisha’s size two frame would fit me. I glanced in the mirror and frowned. A before shot of a Visine commercial, if I ever saw one. I searched the medicine cabinet to see if Livvy and Aisha had any. They did. A few drops later, I