Chapter 6
MICAH
Iarranged the pastries on the platter and I had no idea why. I didn’t know how to be a hostess. Didn’t want to know.
“Dude, they’re just going to eat them,” Toby said, watching me with barely concealed amusement. “You don’t need to make them Instagram-worthy.”
He was right. I was fussing. “Fine. Whatever. How’s the coffee?”
“Fresh pot just finished brewing.” He checked his watch for probably the twentieth time in ten minutes. “Jack Montana is going to be in your house. In like fifteen minutes. Do you realize how insane that is?”
I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “You know my mom’s been in three movies with him, right? He’s been to family dinners.”
“That’s different. That’s your family. This is work. This is us being professionals working with Jack freaking Montana.” He practically bounced on his heels. “And Buzz Coleman. I’ve watched every single one of his movies. The guy’s a comedic genius.”
“He’s good,” I agreed, moving to check the living room one more time. I’d pushed the furniture back to create space, set up a long table with enough chairs for everyone. The script pages were laid out at each seat, names written on cards so nobody had to awkwardly figure out where to sit.
My beach house wasn’t huge by Blackwell standards.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the ocean, and the sound of waves provided a constant backdrop.
It was three stories with four bedrooms. The house had a theater room that I poured the most money into.
It was a sweet setup. The open concept made the space feel airy.
Today it served as our unofficial rehearsal space. More intimate than a studio, less formal than a conference room. I wanted everyone relaxed and comfortable. First impressions mattered, and I needed this cast to gel quickly.
And I needed to cut costs where I could.
“Did you talk to the leading lady?” Toby asked.
“Not personally.”
“She’s probably freaking out about meeting everyone.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d been thinking about that myself, wondering if I should have reached out to her separately, given her a heads-up about what to expect. But I’d decided against it. Sink or swim. If she couldn’t handle a casual table read, she definitely couldn’t handle Jack Montana’s ego on set.
“She’ll be fine,” I said, more to convince myself than him.
The doorbell rang and my stomach did a weird flip.
“Here we go,” Toby said.
I opened the door to find Jack Montana standing on my doorstep, and for once, he was actually alone.
No entourage. Not even an assistant. Just Jack, wearing sunglasses that probably cost more than most people’s rent and a tight t-shirt that showed off every muscle he’d spent a lot of time and money to get.
Those abs were his moneymaker.
“Micah.” He pulled off the sunglasses, revealing that movie-star smile.
“Thanks for coming alone. I really think this will work better without distractions.”
“Chantilly wasn’t happy about it,” he said, stepping inside. “But I told her this is work. Professional work. She can’t be on set for everything.”
“I appreciate that.” I led him toward the living room. “Coffee? Water? We’ve got some food set up.”
“Just water.” He was already surveying the space, taking in the setup with the critical eye of someone who’d done a thousand of these. “Intimate. I like it.”
Toby appeared with a bottle of water, his hand shaking slightly as he handed it over. “Mr. Montana. I’m Toby Powers. It’s an honor to meet you. Big fan.”
I cringed. I couldn’t have him fangirling over the talent. We were supposed to be professionals.
“Call me Jack.” He took the water, his charm dialing up automatically. “You’re the assistant director?”
“Production assistant, but I’m learning,” Toby said quickly. “Micah’s teaching me.”
Jack’s eyes flicked to me, one dark brow arched. “Generous of you. Taking on a mentee.”
“He’s good,” I said simply. “He’ll be directing his own projects in a few years.”
The doorbell rang again, and this time it was Buzz Coleman, who burst in with the kind of energy that immediately filled the room. He was short, stocky, and had a huge personality.
“Micah Blackwell!” He grabbed my hand in both of his, shaking enthusiastically. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“Thanks, Buzz. That means a lot.”
“Jack!” Buzz released me and moved to clap Jack on the shoulder. “Looking swollen, buddy. You been hitting the gym?”
Jack’s chest puffed out slightly. “Six days a week. Added fifteen pounds of muscle for this role.”
“It shows, man. It definitely shows.”
I caught Toby’s eye and we both fought back smiles. Jack’s vanity was going to be a constant source of entertainment.
Lisa Lowe arrived next, apologizing for being a few minutes early. She was professional, warm, exactly what I needed for Grace’s best friend in the film. We’d worked together on a small project years ago. I knew she’d be perfect for the role.
“So where’s our leading lady?” Lisa asked, accepting a cup of coffee from Toby. “I’m dying to meet her. I heard she’s completely new to film.”
“She should be here any minute,” I said, checking my phone. 9:52 a,m. The table read officially started at ten.
Damn, I hoped she didn’t make a fool out of me. I took a chance on her. If she pulled any diva shit, I’d fire her. And then I’d be fucked because there was no way I’d be able to keep to our schedule if I didn’t have a leading lady.
Jack made a sound that might have been a scoff. “Unknown actress in a lead role. Bold choice, Micah.”
“She’s good,” I said, hearing the defensive edge in my voice and not caring. “You’ll see.”
“I’m sure she is.” But his tone suggested he wasn’t sure at all.
Jack Montana was one of those guys that needed to be the biggest star in the room. I didn’t blame him for his arrogance. He had people blowing smoke up his ass all day every day for years. An inflated ego was expected.
The minutes ticked by. Buzz and Lisa chatted easily, old friends from the circuit. Jack examined the script pages at his seat, occasionally glancing at his phone. Toby hovered near the door, practically vibrating with nervous energy.
Two minutes before ten and there was no sign of her. I ran my hand through my hair, wondering if I should call her agent. She’d be here. She had to be here.
And then the doorbell rang.
Thank God.
I quickly walked to the door to answer it. There she was. Grace Stone stood on my doorstep looking like she’d stepped out of a magazine spread. Hair perfectly styled, makeup subtle but flawless, dressed in dark jeans and a blazer that managed to be both professional and casual.
Those blue eyes barely concealed her nervousness. I almost laughed.
“Hi,” she said, and I could hear the slight breathlessness in her voice. “I’m not late, am I? I’m sorry. I got so lost. Got on the wrong side of the PCH and had to drive down several miles and turn around. The traffic. I’m so sorry.”
She was flustered. And I believed her excuse.
“Right on time.” I stepped back to let her in. “Everyone else is already here. Ready to meet your co-stars?”
She took a deep breath. I watched her shoulders square. She slipped into that confident persona she’d worn during the audition. “Ready.”
I led her into the living room. I could feel the moment everyone’s attention shifted to her. Jack looked up from his script. Buzz stopped mid-sentence. Lisa smiled warmly.
“Everyone,” I said, “this is Grace Stone. Grace, this is Jack Montana, Buzz Coleman, and Lisa Lowe.”
“It’s such an honor to meet all of you,” Grace said. “I’m really excited to be working with such talented people.”
Jack stood, extending his hand. “Grace. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“All good things, I hope.” She shook his hand firmly, and I noticed she didn’t seem intimidated by his presence. That was good. That was exactly what I needed.
“Micah seems to think you’re the next big thing,” Jack said, and there was something almost challenging in his tone.
“I’m just here to do good work,” Grace replied evenly. “Same as everyone else.”
Buzz laughed, breaking the tension. “I like her already. Someone who’s not here to kiss Jack’s ass.”
“I don’t need my ass kissed,” Jack protested, but he was smiling.
Lisa gave Grace a warm hug. “Ignore them. They’re like children. I’m so glad to finally meet you. I think we’re going to have great chemistry.”
I watched Grace take her seat at the table, and something shifted in the room.
The light from the ocean-facing windows caught her hair, creating this halo effect that mesmerized me.
She looked down at the script in front of her, running her fingers along the edge of the pages.
I found myself tracking the movement like it was the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen.
Get it together, Micah.
I cleared my throat and moved to the head of the table. “Alright, everyone. Thanks for being here. I know we’re on a tight schedule, so I want to make the most of today. We’re going to run through the key scenes, get a feel for the chemistry, work out any kinks before we hit the set next week.”
“Sounds good,” Buzz said, flipping through his pages.
“Let’s start with scene twelve. That’s Jack and Grace’s first confrontation. It sets up the tension for the rest of the film.” I looked between them. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Jack didn’t need his script. He’d probably had it memorized for weeks. He leaned back in his chair, already in character, all cocky and dangerous.
Grace picked up her script and rolled her shoulders a few times.
They started the scene. Jack delivered his lines with the kind of natural charisma that made him a star. Every word landed exactly where it should. He was good. Really good.
But Grace…
She was reading from the script, her eyes darting down to the page between lines. The words came out technically correct but stiff. Nothing like the fire she’d brought to the audition. I felt the shift in the room.
Where was the confident, assertive woman that auditioned?
They finished the scene and I forced a smile. “Good. That’s a good start. Let’s try scene twenty-three. The rooftop sequence.”
We ran through three more scenes. Each time, Grace improved slightly, but she still clutched that script like a lifeline. A robot would have more chemistry. I could see Jack’s frustration building in the set of his jaw, the way his fingers drummed against the table.
Buzz and Lisa did their scenes flawlessly. Grace held her own better with Lisa, probably because Lisa was actively trying to support her.
But the scenes with Jack were painful to watch.
After the fourth scene, Jack pushed back from the table. “Can I talk to you for a second?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just headed toward the kitchen.
Shit.
“Everyone take five,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “Grab some food, stretch your legs.”
I followed Jack into the kitchen, where he was already pacing like a caged animal.
“Where did you find her?” he snapped. “Community theater? A high school drama club?”
There was no way she couldn’t hear him. Privacy was not a thing in an open concept home, something I decided just then I hated. I’d sell the house and get one with twenty doors.
“Nerves,” I said.
He ran his hand over his face. “I can only be as good as my co-star. If she’s wooden, I’m going to look wooden playing off her.”
“She just got the script yesterday,” I said, keeping my voice level even though my own anxiety was spiking. “She’s had less than twenty-four hours with the material.”
“So? I had my lines memorized three days after I got the script. That’s what professionals do.”
“She’ll get there.”
“Will she?” Jack crossed his arms over his chest, and I noticed him glance down at his biceps, probably checking if they looked good from this angle.
Even in the middle of a complaint, his vanity was on display.
“Because right now, she’s making me look bad.
And I didn’t sign up for this movie to look bad. ”
I bit back my first response, which would have been pointing out that Jack’s character didn’t exactly require Daniel Day-Lewis level acting.
He was there to look good, deliver punchy one-liners, and do the action sequences that would look great in the trailer.
Grace’s character was the emotional core of the film.
She had three times the number of lines he did.
I’d watched my father manage difficult actors all my life. “I know it’s rough right now. But it will get better.”
“This is a mistake,” Jack snarled. He looked directly at Grace, who had a water bottle in her hand and pretended to be interested in a Van Gogh on my wall.
“You still have time to recast,” he went on. “Get someone with experience. Someone who can actually hold their own.”
I couldn’t help wondering if I’d made a massive mistake.
No. I’d seen her audition. That wasn’t a fluke. The talent was there. She was just nervous, overwhelmed by sitting at a table with Jack Montana and established actors. She’d find her footing.
She had to. Because if she didn’t, I had no idea how I was going to explain to the studio why I’d gambled the entire movie on her.