Page 23 of Cast to be Mine

I ran through the rooftop scene again, this time without looking at the script. I knew it. I had it.

I moved on to the next scene. And the next. And the next.

Around two in the morning, I flopped against the couch, wine in one hand and my phone in the other. I watched myself, grimacing when I completely fucked up a delivery. Normal people would do this whole thing with someone else.

I preferred to do it alone. I wanted to be on the big screen, but I was still shy. Maybe a little insecure. I didn’t mind people seeing me work once I nailed the part. Then bring on the reviews and accolades.

8

MICAH

Iwoke up Sunday morning with a knot in my stomach that had nothing to do with the whiskey I’d consumed the night before. Which had been my attempt to blot out the day.

It hadn’t worked and now I had a raging hangover on top of the stress that clung to me like a wet blanket.

All night one thought kept running through my head. Over and over. Like someone pressing their thumb against a bruise.

Grace Stone was a disaster.

I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom and tried to convince myself that yesterday hadn’t been as bad as I remembered. Maybe I was being too hard on her. With a few days of practice, she’d be fine.

But I couldn’t lie to myself. Not about this. My entire career was on the line. I believed in second chances, but could I stick with that idea when I risked tanking a film? It wasn’t just my reputation on the line. The other actors I’d signed would have a big goose egg on their IMDb profile. That kind of thing stuck with someone for their entire career.

And they’d blame me.

I wasn’t blind. I’d seen the struggle. She’d been stiff, wooden, completely devoid of the spark that had made me cast her in the first place. And Jack had noticed. They’d all noticed. I could see it in the way Buzz had carefully avoided making eye contact with me after the third scene. Lisa had tried to compensate, giving Grace more to play off of.

What the hell had I been thinking?

Dad’s voice echoed in my head. You’re taking a massive risk. An unknown actress with no film credits.

Maybe he’d been right. Maybe I should have listened to experience instead of following my gut.

I got out of bed and headed downstairs, needing coffee and clarity in equal measure. The ocean stretched out beyond my windows, calm and indifferent to my crisis. I sipped my coffee and watched the waves, hoping they would settle me like they normally did.

There was no settling me.

I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t figure out what my next move should be. Recast? But we started shooting in less than two weeks. There was no time. Push back production? The studio would never approve the budget increase. Try to coach Grace through it? But what if she couldn’t get there?

This movie was supposed to prove I could deliver a commercial hit. I wanted the big box office. The red carpets and press junkets. I got a studio with a decent budget. Great script and a headliner.

I’d bet everything on an actress who couldn’t make it through a table read.

I poured myself another cup of coffee and stared out at the water, feeling the weight of every decision I’d made over the past month pressing down on me.

I needed help. I needed someone who understood what I was going through. Someone who’d been in the industry long enough to have perspective.

I needed my mother.

An hour later, I pulled up to my parents’ house. The gate code hadn’t changed in twenty years, and I let myself in without calling ahead. Mom would be around. She’d become a homebody the last decade or so. Said she spent most of her life traveling the world going from one location to another.

I found her in the sunroom, reading a script with her morning tea. She looked up as I entered, and her face immediately shifted to concern. It was the mom telepathy. I had read once mothers actually had their children’s DNA in their body.

Didn’t know if it was true but watching her put aside her tea and script like she was going to fight a lion barehanded for me, I believed it.

“Micah. What’s wrong?”

I dropped into the chair across from her. “I think I made a mistake.”