Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
I’m sitting on my bed working on my speech while Reagan paces my room reading lines. She’s been working on one scene for the better part of an hour. It sounded fine to me the first time, but what the hell do I know?
“Ugh,” she groans and flops onto the bed, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m never going to get it right.”
I abandon my work and lean over so I can kiss her. “Yes, you will. Hell, it sounds like you already know it by heart.”
“I know the lines, but I’m still not getting the character right.”
This is so far out of my expertise. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing.” She sighs. “Kiss me again.”
I climb on top of her and kiss her until we’re both breathless.
“I have an idea.” I stand and adjust my dick. Down boy.
“Now?” She sits up, resting on an elbow. Her face is red, and she eyes my crotch.
“Yep. Kissing you gives me the best ideas.”
“Hmmm.” She hums and shoots me a playful smile that makes her dimples show. “I have a much better one.”
“Later, remember?” I pull her upright. “Come on.”
“Are we allowed to be in here?” Reagan asks as we walk into the arena.
“Eh… it would probably be frowned upon, but I won’t tell if you don’t.”
She stares out at the ice. “Is now a bad time to admit I’m a terrible skater?”
“I got you.”
We change into skates, and I step onto the ice. When I look back, Reagan is still clinging to the wall.
“I haven’t been skating since I was five or six.”
I take both her hands, and she slowly steps to me. “It’s like riding a bike.”
“I was never very good at that either.” She wobbles and squeezes my hands in a death grip.
I’m basically pulling her along, but slowly her grasp lessens. The cool air makes her cheeks red. She’s concentrating so damn hard.
I move in front of her and skate backward.
“Show off,” she mutters. Her gaze lifts to me, and she loses balance. I grab her elbow before she goes down.
“Oh, baby, this isn’t even close to showing off.” I pull her closer to the wall so she can stop and hold on if she wants, and then I take off on the ice skating hard to the other end. I jump and go side to side, backward. I even throw in a little leap.
Being on the ice makes me so ridiculously happy, but being here with Reagan is next level.
It takes all of my love of skating and makes it seem more complete somehow.
I want to take her skating a bunch more times until she’s comfortable, although, her needing to hold on to me as we skate doesn’t suck either.
She finally starts to get the hang of it after a few laps. Her arms fall to her sides, and her stride lengthens.
Together, we skate to the center of the ice.
“Thank you for this. It was good to get out of my head for a while. This play feels like it might be the end of me.”
“Nah, not my girl. She’s too tough to go out like that.” I squeeze her hands. “You’ve done a whole bunch of these before. Why is this one causing you so much trouble? Or is this like your creative process?”
“Are you trying to politely ask if I turn into a drama queen, tortured artist every time?”
“Your words, baby.”
“No, not usually. I love acting, and when I step on stage, it’s easy. Or it used to be. Slipping into someone else is comforting in a way I can’t explain.”
“What’s different this time?”
“Well,” she starts. “I told you how I landed a part that’s different for me. I’m playing the youngest of three sisters. She’s carefree and fun. She’s a bit silly and always doing things for a laugh.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It is. Turns out fun is harder to pull off. I should have stuck with something more comfortable for me.”
“How come you didn’t?”
“I’ve been trying to summon the courage for two years.
Dr. Rossen is great. I really respect her, and when I first got to Valley, I auditioned for two different roles—one serious, girl next door type, and the other was a comedic relief character.
She gave me the first part, and I got such great feedback from everyone.
I guess I didn’t want to take a chance and fail. ”
“And now?”
“I’m taking all sorts of wild chances this year.”
I lift her and spin around, then set her back down. “Show me.”
“What?”
“Perform for me.”
“Here?”
“You need a stage and an audience.” I skate off to the side and pull myself up to sit on the half wall that goes around the rink.
“I can barely stand, and you want me to perform?” She looks around and pushes off one foot hesitantly.
“I had a coach once who made us run drills blindfolded.”
“What?” She laughs. “That sounds really dangerous.”
“Yeah, it was. My parents were pissed. But it actually worked. I had to know exactly where I was on the ice. I had to feel it. Sometimes taking away the ability to see or hear…”
“Or walk?” She screeches. “Your logic is twisted, Dr. Scott. I don’t think that’s going to work here.”
“Either way, it should be entertaining.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Let’s take it from the top of scene two where you enter from stage right.”
She nods, opens her mouth as if she’s going to deliver her first line, and then looks straight at me. “Wait, how do you know…”
“You left a copy of the script in my room.” I hop down from the wall back onto the ice and skate toward her. “It’s a great part. You’re gonna kill it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. You’re the most amazing and talented person I know. You can do this.”
“Okay.” She inhales and then lets it out slowly. “I’m ready.”
I speak the first line and then watch in awe as Reagan delivers hers. Amazing isn’t the half of it. When she goes into performer mode, you can’t help but stop and stare.
I’m still staring when she looks at me and says, “Next line.”
“Right, sorry.”
From there, I manage to keep up. I haven’t seen her truly perform it before now, so it’s hard to say if the ice is helping or not, but I know I’m totally enthralled. She’s funny. Her body language, the tone in which she speaks, the looks—it’s incredible. She’s incredible.
We go through the first act. I’m back sitting on the wall, and she skates over to me. She’s steadier now the longer she’s been out here, but she still clings to my legs for support when she reaches me.
“Thank you for this.”
“Are you kidding? I feel like I just got an exclusive preview. You’re going to be amazing.”
“I don’t know if it’s the ice or maybe just you, but I feel amazing.”
“We should probably go soon.”
She nods. “Okay. I just want to take another lap or two.”
We skate slowly. I still take her hand, even though she seems to have the hang of it now. “What made you decide to be an actress?”
“I watched a lot of TV as a kid. Mom was gone, and I was lonely.”
My chest aches at her admission. “Fuck, baby. I’m sorry.”
“During the day, I would go to friends’ houses or play outside in the neighborhood, but at night, I was on my own a lot.
I couldn’t have friends stay over because I didn’t want their parents to know.
And I didn’t want to be gone in case my mom came back or tried to call. ” She smiles. “TV kept me company.”
“How did you end up living with Janine?”
“I told you our moms were friends, but I guess even she didn’t realize how bad things were.
My mom asked her to check in on me one random Saturday night.
I don’t know why she suddenly grew a conscience.
She’d left me alone for entire weekends plenty of times before.
Anyway, Janine’s mom came over to see that I was doing okay.
” Reagan glances over shyly. “I was more than okay. I’d thrown the most epic of high school parties.
Even popular kids who never talked to me showed up.
I was so cool for about two hours. Alas, my popularity was cut short when Marge, Janine’s mom, busted in.
She was nice about it, really. It could have been worse.
She made everyone leave and then told me to pack a bag. ”
“I’m glad she looked out for you.”
“Yeah, me too. Who knows what kind of trouble I would have gotten into without her watching out for me? Popularity would have gone straight to my head.”
“And your mom? She didn’t care that someone else had taken you in?”
“I think she was relieved.” Reagan’s brows pull together. “She wasn’t mean or awful to me, at least not outright. She was negligent and absent, but I think she wanted good things for me.”
“And she thought that was you living with someone else?” It’s hard for me to have any empathy for a woman who left her kid alone for days at a time. No matter the reason.
“Janine’s family did take better care of me.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“About six months after I moved to Valley, Lori started emailing me every day.”
“You said you haven’t talked to her.”
“I haven’t. I don’t respond. The first few emails were apologies and promises that she was getting her life together, moving back home, getting a job that would keep her around. Now all I get is my horoscope.”
“What?”
“Every morning, she emails me my horoscope. It sounds weird when I say it out loud, but it was always her thing. When she was home, she’d read them out of the paper or the magazine while we had breakfast. I knew the astrological signs before I knew my ABCs.”
“You ever think about replying?”
“To say what?”
We’ve gone around the rink a couple of times, and we both stop near the gate where we came in.
“I don’t know. Just curious if you wanted to, I guess.”
“I think I’ll always want to.”
“You want to, but you don’t?” I question, trying to make sense of it.
“I can’t take her running out on me again. Even through email.”