30. Thirty
Thirty
Lacey
“Cut!” The director’s voice echoes across the set. “Reset for another take.”
I suppress a sigh as Leo immediately drops my hand and stalks off to his mark, already complaining about the lighting. Thank God we’re filming our final scenes together. Two more days of his drama queen antics, and I’m free of him. The rest of my scenes are prior to our characters’ meeting.
Fans have no idea how chopped up and out of sequence the movie sequences are. They tend to think the filming is from the beginning to the end. If only.
Instead, we’re shooting the emotional goodbye scene today, even though tomorrow we’ll film our characters’ first meeting. Next week, I’ll be shooting scenes from the middle of the movie, where Princess Ava hasn’t even fallen for Prince James yet. It’s like putting together a jigsaw puzzle blindfolded, having to remember exactly where in the emotional journey my character is supposed to be at any given moment.
It doesn’t help that Leo keeps pushing for script changes. “James wouldn’t say it like that,” he’ll argue, or “This motivation doesn’t track.” Never mind that he’s played exactly three supporting roles before this, and suddenly he’s an expert on character development.
“Remember,” the director calls out, “you’re desperately in love with him. You can’t bear the thought of leaving.”
Right. Desperately in love. I channel every ounce of my acting ability as we reset the scene. At least Leo and I have decent chemistry on screen, even if he’s insufferable between takes. The camera rolls, and I transform into Ava, the lovesick princess willing to give up everything for her soulmate.
The irony isn’t lost on me.
Three hours and countless takes later, I’m finally in my trailer, peeling off Ava’s carefully crafted wardrobe. My phone buzzes with a text from Nate: ‘Have you killed your leading man yet?’
A smile tugs at my lips despite my exhaustion. ‘Not yet. But the day isn’t over.’
His response is immediate: ‘ That’s my girl. Saving the homicide for the dramatic finale.’
I stare at those words. My girl. He probably doesn’t even think about what he’s typing, but it makes my heart do stupid things in my chest—things it shouldn’t be doing.
My mind goes back to our last night in Seattle and what happened when we got back to the hotel.
How his steamy kiss left me wanting more. How his hands had mapped my body like he was memorizing every inch.
I shiver at the memory. Just a few more days, and I’ll be flying back to Jacksonville—to Nate.
A knock at my trailer door interrupts my brooding. “Ms. Monroe? They need you in makeup for the next scene.”
“Coming,” I call out, but I don’t move immediately. Instead, I find myself staring at my reflection in the vanity mirror. The woman looking back at me seems uncertain, conflicted. Not at all like the confident actress I’m supposed to be.
The thing is, I love acting. I love disappearing into different characters and bringing stories to life. It’s been my dream since I was six years old, performing one-woman shows in our living room. But lately, I’ve been wondering if the cost is worth it.
This contract, for instance. The company practically owns my life for the duration of this movie. Every public appearance, every interview, and every social media post has to be approved. Even my engagement with Nate—such as it is, had to be cleared through them.
Nate.
He’s in Nashville this week, performing to a packed audience. The fans are loving the new album. I think back to our time in Seattle; at least I have those memories to sustain me. But next month, who knows? Meanwhile, I’m stuck here in Hollywood until the filming of this movie is finished.
“Ms. Monroe?” Another knock, more insistent this time.
“Just a minute!” I start gathering my things, but my thoughts keep circling back to Nate. To those stolen moments between our crazy schedules. To how real it feels when we’re together and how empty it feels when we’re apart.
But is that enough? Can any relationship survive this kind of distance, this constant separation? Even if what we have is real—even if he wanted it to be permanent—how would we make it work?
I’ve seen too many celebrity relationships crash and burn. Too many couples are torn apart by competing schedules and career demands. Even Leo’s crankiness and demands are rumored to be because of his last serious relationship, which recently ended because he and his fiancée couldn’t handle the constant travel, the long hours, and the public scrutiny. I could almost feel sorry for the man.
“Lacey!” This time, it’s my assistant, Tara, actually opening the door. “Lacey, they’re waiting.”
“Sorry, sorry.” I grab my water bottle and phone, trying to shake off these thoughts. “Just got lost in my head for a minute.”
Tara gives me a knowing look. “Thinking about a certain handsome drummer?”
“No,” I lie, then immediately cave under her raised eyebrow. “Maybe. It’s just—how do people make it work in this industry? The distance, the schedules, the constant pressure?”
“Some people do,” she says softly. “When it matters enough.”
But that’s the question, isn’t it? Do I matter enough to Nate? Does he matter enough to me that I’d be willing to reshape my whole life? Because that’s what it would take—compromises, sacrifices, major changes to how we both live and work.
Or am I getting way ahead of myself, building castles in the air around what’s essentially a business arrangement with benefits? Even if those benefits are mind-blowing…
“Lacey!” It’s Leo’s voice this time that carries across the lot. “Come on, Monroe. I don’t have all day. Get a move on!”
I straighten my shoulders and head out of the trailer. Time to be Princess Ava again, to pretend to be in love with someone I can barely tolerate. At least I’m good at pretending.
The irony of that thought hits me as I walk toward makeup, and I have to blink back sudden tears. Because the truth is, I’m not pretending anymore.
Not with Nate.
And that scares me more than any contract ever could.
Finally, after what feels like the hundredth take, we nail the goodbye scene. Leo delivers his last line, I let the tears fall (thank you, emotion memory), and the director calls, “Cut! That’s a wrap on this scene!”
I sag with relief, the emotional toll of the scene leaving me drained. The only way I made it through those endless takes was by replacing Leo’s face with Nate’s in my mind. I also imagine Nate’s hands holding mine instead of Leo’s clammy grip and picture Nate’s eyes looking back at me with that intensity that makes my knees weak.
Which probably isn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but it got me through the scene. And if my performance was more genuine because I was thinking about Nate—well, that’s between me and my Oscar nomination, if it ever comes to that.
I step outside, squinting in the bright sunlight, when I hear a familiar voice call out, “Monroe! Looking good, princess!”
“Jake!” I spin around to see Jake Morrison, my co-star from “Summer Rain,” striding across the lot with his wife Rebecca. The sight of them together, so obviously in sync even after their years of marriage, makes my heart ache a little.
“Break for twenty!” the director announces. “Reset for the garden scene.”
Leo huffs and stalks off toward his trailer while I rush to hug Jake and Rebecca. “What are you doing here? I thought you were filming in Spain?”
“Wrapped early,” Jake grins. “Got a meeting about directing the sequel.” He checks his watch. “Which I should head to now. You two catch up?” He kisses Rebecca’s cheek, gives me a quick hug, and jogs toward the production offices.
Rebecca links her arm through mine. “Got time for a quick coffee? I heard craft services here has a killer espresso machine.”
Ten minutes later, we’re settled in a quiet corner with our drinks. Rebecca takes one look at my face and says, “Okay, spill. What’s going on in your head? I can hear the wheels spinning from here?”
I wrap my hands around my cup, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. “How do you and Jake make it work? With both your schedules being so crazy?”
“Ah.” She stirs her latte thoughtfully. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain gorgeous musician, would it?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only to someone who’s been there.” She smiles softly. “Jake and I struggled at first, trying to balance everything. Both wanting our careers, both wanting each other. It took some trial and error to figure out what worked for us.”
“But how did you decide whose career takes priority? I mean, Jake’s movies—“
“Stop right there,” Rebecca interrupts. “That’s the first mistake. It’s not about whose career is more important. It’s about finding ways to make both careers and your love life work.”
“But—“
“That’s why I switched to TV,” she continues. “Movies are amazing, but TV gives me more predictability. I know where I’ll be filming and for how long. I can plan around Jake’s schedule better.” She takes a sip of her latte. “Have you ever considered TV?”
I blink, surprised. “Honestly? No. I always thought movies were the dream.”
“They were my dream too. But dreams can evolve. Look at the amazing limited series being made now. The production value, the writing—it’s not the same industry it was ten years ago.”
She’s right. Some of the best acting I’ve seen lately has been on streaming services.
She leans in and states in a low voice. “This is all hush-hush for right now. But I’m actually thinking of starting my own production company.” Rebecca quickly looks around and then adds.
“More control over projects and my schedule. After everything Jake and I have been through trying to balance our careers, it just makes sense.”
“Your own company?” I wrap my hands around my coffee cup. “That’s a huge undertaking.”
“It’s going to be a mountain of work,” Rebecca admits, running her finger along the rim of her cup. “Setting everything up, finding the right projects, building a reputation outside the L.A. bubble. It will also require startup capital—some very serious investment money. Jake thinks I’m crazy sometimes, but...” she shrugs, a determined glint in her eye, “if it means having more control over our lives, over the stories we tell... that’s worth any amount of effort, isn’t it?”
“Yes. But you’re right about having a balanced life where you can both be together. That’s worth making it work.” I think about my own complicated schedule, the constant juggling act.
Rebecca nods, then lets out a long breath. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m in over my head. The startup costs alone are daunting, and there’s so much to consider. But it could be amazing, you know?” She lowers her voice. “We’re even considering Jacksonville.”
“Jacksonville?” The mention of Nate’s hometown catches my attention.
“I know, right? But it makes sense. It’s actually an amazing location for film production. Great tax incentives, growing creative community. It’s the largest city by land area in the lower 48—plenty of room to build sound stages.” She smiles. “Plus, Jake’s been wanting to get out of L.A. anyway. Says he’s tired of the whole Hollywood scene.”
“Anyway,” Rebecca waves her hand dismissively, “it’s all just ideas right now. But something has to change, you know? This industry... there has to be a better way.”
I try to picture Rebecca and Jake in Jacksonville, building something new. It’s an intriguing thought.
“Well, Nate loves Jacksonville. So do I, for that matter.”
“Oh, that’s right. The Wild Band moved their headquarters there.” Rebecca gives me a thoughtful look.
“Okay, everybody back to work,” the director’s voice interrupts us.
“I should get back to Jack.” Rebecca stands, gathering her things. “But thanks for listening to my pipe dreams.”
As she returns my quick hug, she states. “You and Nate are good together. Don’t let this crazy business mess that up.”
“I won’t,” I tell her, my throat tight.
She leaves me there, staring at her departing back, thinking about choices and changes and what I really want. Maybe having it all isn’t impossible—a career, love, a future with Nate. I just have to make sure he wants that future as much as I do.