The Other Woman |Charlie Barber x Reader|

~This Game That We Play~

Red light invades Charlie Barber's senses as he sits in the fourth row of the little theater. He had long since slipped into a deep blue cardigan; the air conditioning had been acting up again. Its ancient pipes and panels rattle above the dozens of rows of dark seats in the audience. There was at least a little bit of relief that they would be fixed before opening night.

Up on the creaky old stage, the actors and actresses were anything but cold. They were heated by the constant movement of their bodies and the stage lights pounding down on their heads. Warming their scalps and burning at their foreheads. A single prop sits on stage along with them; an old, beige armchair that had also been bathed red by the intense lights. Their bodies move around the prop fluidly; Charlie was impressed with their progress. This was the smoothest they had ever accomplished this scene.

Opening night was approaching fast and tensions were as high as usual. Only this time, the actors and stage hands were completely oblivious to the truth of it all. Opening night had to be pushed back again. Charlie's stay in Los Angeles would take up more time than he had originally expected. As much as he was looking forward to spending time with his son, he couldn't help but feel a little bitter.

If Nicole had something as important and monumental as this, they would have stayed in place. Instead, she had fled across the country to be closer to her family. Then again, it was Charlie that had practically glued her to New York for the past few years. Still, he remained stubborn about making her the villain. If she was doing the same to him, why couldn't he portray her negatively too? Their head-butting was beginning to get out of hand. Charlie was just grateful it wasn't taking place during a strenuous time like this.

Charlie glances down at the notebook opened in his lap. The pen in his hand had been still for a while now; that was unlike. Anyone on the outside might have just seen that as the actors just doing an exceptional job that didn't require corrections. Charlie Barber knew the truth. Every time he looked at those pages, he just remembered how the two of you had bonded over notebooks.

It was stupid. Foolish, even. To be strung up like he was a teenager all over again. But truthfully, he couldn't help himself. Everything reminded him of you. The two of you had hardly spent any real time together, but it still felt like he suffered a breakup in a relationship that had lasted years. Whether that was good or bad, he couldn't tell, but it certainly wasn't working in his favor right about now.

He needed a distraction. Desperately.

"Okay!" Charlie's thundering voice booms through the space as he stands up much too abruptly. The seat he had been sitting on seems to sigh with relief when his weight is lifted.

At the sound of their director's baritone voice, the motions on the stage halt altogether. With a loud clunk and a mechanical whir, the main lights spring off and the red disappears from view. Charlie blinks a few times, allowing his eyes to adjust as he climbs the steps onto the stage. The wood paneling creaks beneath his shiny dress shoes.

The actors surge forward, circling around him to eagerly await what kind of notes he had for him. They would likely be disappointed to know his mind was occupied by other things. Specifically, a woman. They all cross their arms or keep their hands planted on their hips, keeping their breathing deep to try to slow their hearts.

"Really, really good, guys." Charlie commends, unsure of where else to start. He needed a way to break the news. "Keep working on the movement around the chair."

"Anything else, Charlie?" A puzzled voice chimes in from the group, surprised with his lack of comments day.

Charlie runs a hand through his hair, taking a breath. "Sorry, I've been... distracted lately. There's going to be more time for notes than expected."