Page 103 of Cast to be Mine

Good. At least one of us should be acting.

“Jack, you’re laying it all on the line,” Micah said. “Grace, you’re hearing things you never expected to hear. Let it land.”

I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. If I looked at him right now, I’d fall apart completely.

Jack leaned into the character. His eyes were wet. Actually wet. I didn’t know Jack Montana was capable of tears that weren’t glycerin based. I thought about Micah while Jack delivered his performance.

And I let all of it show on my face.

Elena’s confusion became my confusion. Her pain became my pain. The tears that welled up weren’t acting—they were real, spilling over before I could stop them.

“Cut!”

I blinked, suddenly aware of the crew around us. Jack was staring at me with something like respect in his eyes.

“That was incredible,” he said quietly. “Damn, Grace.”

I couldn’t respond. I just nodded and turned away, wiping at my cheeks.

“Let’s go again,” Micah called out. “Same energy. Grace, that was perfect. Jack, match her intensity.”

We reset and ran it again and again. Each time, I found new layers to Elena’s response. New shades of heartbreak and hope and fear. I drew from the well of everything I was feeling. By the fifth take, my face was a mess of tears and snot and I didn’t care.

“That’s the one,” Micah finally said. “Moving on to coverage.”

The crew shifted into motion. Someone handed me tissues and a bottle of water. We shot Jack’s coverage next. I stood off camera, delivering my lines for his reactions, watching him work through his monologue over and over. He was actually good. Better than I’d given him credit for. When he wasn’t being a preening narcissist, there was real talent buried under all that ego.

“Cut.”

Silence stretched across the beach.

Then someone started clapping. It spread through the crew. When the film came out, I wanted the critics to look at my performance and then decide if I actually earned the role.

I knew I did. Fuck the haters.

34

MICAH

Icalled wrap thirty minutes early. We had everything we needed. The footage was solid, the performances were stellar, and pushing the crew any further would just be cruel at this point. Everyone was exhausted, sunburned, and ready to get the hell off this beach.

But mostly, I did it for Grace.

I watched her walk back to her trailer with a dejected look despite the incredible work she’d just delivered. She’d given me everything today. Dug deep into places I knew were painful and pulled out performances that were going to make audiences weep. And she’d done it while the entire world was dissecting her personal life like she was some kind of specimen under a microscope.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

Her first big role kept getting overshadowed by who she was supposedly sleeping with. First Jack, now me. The woman couldn’t catch a break. People needed to get their own damn lives instead of obsessing over hers.

I made my rounds, thanking the department heads, checking in with Toby. The crew was already breaking down equipment. Everyone was so ready to get back to LA despite being in paradise. It was a little different when you were working and not sipping Mai Tais on the beach.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it. It buzzed again. And again.

I pulled it out and saw my father’s name flashing on the screen. Four missed calls in the last hour.

Great. Just what I needed.

I found a quiet spot behind one of the equipment trucks and answered before he could call again.