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Nathan’s expression is stiff, uncomfortable even. The papers rustle in my hands as I look down to read the scene again.
I flip the page over as quietly as I can and then peek up at Stevens, who looks pissed.
There’s no way around it; Nathan’s doing a shitty job. He isn’t showing any interest in Miranda, Julie’s character, in the least. Which is not what’s written in the script at all.
“Cut!” Director Stevens yells out and it’s the first time in days that I’ve heard his voice ring out with such frustration-laced authority. I’ve heard rumors about him, whispers in the industry about his interactions with actors being a bit hostile and demanding. It looks like I’m about to get a front row seat to exactly what they mean, but it makes me sick to my stomach, because I’m certain it’ll be directed at Nathan.
The tension and disappointment in the air are palpable as the lights slowly get brighter and the onlookers, like me, begin to make faint noises while they shift their feet, flip through pages and whisper to their neighbors.
“You need to bring this scene to life. The emotion. There’s passion between them.” Director Stevens is calling out to Nathan and I watch as he nods his head repeatedly, but he doesn’t stop looking at me.
My heart races and I can’t breathe.Stop looking, Nathan. But it’s not just his eyes anymore. The longer he stares at me, the more everyone else notices. I’m caught in their questioning stares and the only thing I can think is that I need to get out of here.
“Oh, that’s why,” I hear Julie say as she turns on her heels and walks back to the faux door. She flicks her hair over her shoulder and then looks back at me. My cheeks burn with embarrassment. “She shouldn’t be here if she’s distracting him.”
I didn’t do anything. I look everywhere except at her and Nathan, but all eyes are on me. Onlookers glance between Nathan and Julie, and then to me.
My breath is caught in my throat as I lower the papers in my hand. I wish I could run. All of this attention is solely because he won’t stop staring.
I didn’t make a noise. I didn’t try to do a damn thing to distract him or anyone else. My teeth sink into my bottom lip and I keep my eyes on the ground, but I feel compelled to lift them. I can feel his dark eyes on me and when I raise them, sure enough, he’s still focused on me. Not just a subdued look but a blatant stare that pierces through me, like a thin dagger meant to hold me perfectly still and threaten my very life.
The murmurs get louder and I know they’re whispering about Nathan and me. Do they know something I don’t?
“Stop it,” I mouth to Nathan. It takes everything in me to do it. To even acknowledge that I can see him and he can see me. But he merely shakes his head slowly. Just once, but it’s enough to let me know that he doesn’t care about the awkward situation he’s putting me in.
I try to turn away, ripping my eyes from Nathan’s gaze, but it only leaves me caught in another. The director’s. Stevens is staring straight at me and I only turn for a moment to see Nathan running his hands through his hair in frustration. He’s no longer looking at me, and his back is turned, but that fact only makes the sickness churn more and more in my stomach.
“You.” The loud voice is directed at me and it makes my body jump. Director Stevens points right at me, his voice bellowing in the confines of the set as he shouts, “Get off the set!”
CHAPTER6
Nathan
Ten years ago
January 1
She can’t make up her mind.
One day Hally loves me and I feel it. Down to the very core of who I am. And then I do something like say the wrong thing, and all of a sudden I don’t appreciate her or whatever the hell she’s prone to saying when she yells at me.
I don’t know how to react or handle her. All it does is turn me on if I’m honest with myself. I hate the outcome though. It’s easy for her to say things that hurt. Just as easy as it is for her to say the words that make me feel like I’m worth something to her.
She’ll say she’s sorry. She’ll say she doesn’t mean it.
She does all the talking, and that’s the problem.
I sit in my car outside my house and think about the fight over and over. I know I could have just said I was sorry and I don’t want to see her upset. That would have made her pause at least. That’s my problem though, my dad made sure I learned not to speak up when I’m being yelled at.
The heat from outside is already leaking into the car, so I pull the keys out and make my way to 2204 Winston Street. I ignore everyone else as I get out of the car and walk inside. The steps are old, made of rough stone and uneven. I’ve fallen down them a few times as a kid, and they’re the reason for the scar on my upper thigh.
I’m quiet when I walk in, listening to the sound of the TV playing in the living room. Taking a quick look in, I see Ma passed out in front of it. I don’t know if she has night shift tonight or not, but I don’t wake her up. I never do.
Not unless I want the shit beat out of me.
I thought Dad was bad until he split, but that’s when Ma just took his place. Before I turn to go up the stairs, I see bottles lined up on the table in the kitchen. The pizza box from last night is there, open and empty, so at least I know she ate. Even though it looks like she had an entire case of beer along with it.
The old wooden stairs creak as I make my way up, two steps at a time. The higher I get, the hotter it gets, like stagnant heat.
