Chapter 7
GRACE
Iexcused myself before I could do something embarrassing like cry in front of Jack Montana. I knew it was a cutthroat industry. I had a thick skin.
But dammit, he got me.
“Bathroom?” I managed to ask, and Toby pointed down the hall.
I walked as calmly as I could manage, feeling everyone’s eyes following me. The moment I closed the bathroom door behind me, I sagged against it.
The bathroom was ridiculous. Of course it was. It wasn’t a bathroom so much as a powder room. Very elegant. Very non-bachelor. He probably had a girlfriend.
Didn’t matter.
I caught sight of myself in the massive mirror above the double vanity and barely recognized the woman staring back at me. Perfect hair. Perfect makeup. Perfect outfit.
And a perfect disaster of a performance.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I whispered to my reflection.
I’d had the script for less than twenty-four hours. I’d stayed up until three in the morning reading through it, making notes, trying to understand the character arc. But I hadn’t had time to really internalize it, to make it mine the way I had with the audition.
At the audition, I’d lived with those pages for days. I knew every beat, every emotion, every breath. I could have performed them in my sleep.
This was different. This was a hundred pages of dialogue, and I was expected to just… know it? To deliver it with the same fire and confidence I’d brought to the audition?
I gripped the edge of the marble counter, my knuckles going white.
The worst part was that I couldn’t even blame him. I was bombing. Completely and utterly bombing.
Maybe my father was right. Maybe I wasn’t ready for this. Maybe I should have used the Sterling name, gotten a few more substantial roles under my belt before attempting something this big.
Did I get too big for my britches?
No. I shook my head, forcing myself to meet my own eyes in the mirror. No, that was exactly what he’d want me to think. He wanted me to believe I couldn’t do this without him and his name.
I’d gotten this role on my own. Micah Blackwell had seen something in me. Something worth taking a chance on.
I just had to find it again.
I turned on the cold water and splashed some on my wrists, careful not to mess up my makeup. The shock of cold helped clear my head slightly. I grabbed one of the soft, fluffy hand towels, dampened it, and dabbed at the back of my neck.
“Stop clutching the script like it’s a lifeboat,” I whispered to the mirror. “Stop second-guessing every line reading. Just trust your instincts and commit.”
I took a deep breath, then another.
I could do this. I had to do this.
I couldn’t stay in here forever, as much as I wanted to. And the longer I stayed, the weirder it would be. I straightened my blazer, checked my reflection one more time, and opened the door.
And nearly collided with Micah Blackwell.
He stood in the hallway, holding a can of Coke in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, like he’d been waiting for me.
And that wasn’t embarrassing at all.
His dark hair was even more mussed than usual, probably from running his hands through it, something I noticed him doing the last hour. Those blue eyes studied me with an intensity that made my stomach flip.
“Hey,” he said quietly, holding up both options. “Thought you might need a drink.”
I looked between the Coke and the water, then reached for the Coke. I needed the caffeine and the sugar. “Thanks.”
“How are you doing?” He asked the question like he actually cared about the answer, not like he was making polite conversation.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically.
“Grace.” The way he said my name made me look up at him. “You’re not fine. And that’s okay. This is a lot. First day, meeting everyone, diving into a massive script. It’s overwhelming.”
I wanted to maintain the professional facade, but something about the kindness in his voice broke through that facade. “I just… I need more time with the script. I’ve only had it for a day.”
“I know.” He leaned against the wall, and I noticed he looked almost as tired as I felt. “I should have given you more time. But we’re on such a tight schedule, and I needed everyone together today to see how the chemistry worked.”
“And it’s not working.” I took a sip of the Coke, letting the carbonation burn down my throat. “Jack thinks I’m a disaster. He wants you to recast.”
Micah didn’t deny it, which somehow made it worse.
“I’m making him look bad,” I said, repeating what I overheard. Something I was pretty sure had been intentional. Jack wanted me to hear his critique without having to say it to my face.
“You’re nervous. There’s a difference.” He shifted, and suddenly he was closer, close enough that I could smell his spicy cologne. “The woman I saw at the audition was fearless. She owned every single line. That’s who I cast. That’s who I know you can be.”
“I am. I will be.”
I stared at him for a second, not sure what else to say. Everyone else had looked at me today and seen the woman who couldn’t get through a scene without staring at the page. Jack had seen a liability. Even I had started to wonder if maybe I’d fooled Micah during that audition.
“What do you need?” he asked.
“Need?”
He waved a hand. “I know this is your first big role. What can I do to make this easier? I know you can get there, but I’ll be honest, I need you to get there quickly.”
“You really think I can do this?” I asked.
His expression didn’t change. “I wouldn’t have cast you if I didn’t.”
“Even after today?”
“Especially after today.”
I frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does to me.” He took a sip of his water. “You were nervous. You weren’t incapable. Those are two very different things.”
I didn’t know why, but those words bolstered me. My agent and Becky sang my praises, but they had to. Agent and best friend. Hearing Micah’s roundabout way of saying he thought I could do it was enough.
I exhaled slowly. The sugar pumping through my veins helped.
“Jack’s been doing this since he was a kid,” Micah said softly. “We all have to start somewhere and none of us is great on day one.”
I looked down at the Coke in my hand.
“Is there something wrong with the script?” he asked.
“No! I mean, no. It’s fine. I can do this.”
I could see it in his eyes—the doubt creeping in. He was trying to decide if he should believe me or cut his losses before this turned into a complete disaster.
“Have you been crying?” he asked quietly.
The genuine concern in his tone almost undid me completely. I opened my mouth to tell him the truth—that yes, I’d been having a minor breakdown in his bathroom. I wanted to tell him Jack Montana’s words had cut deep.
But instead, I forced a smile and nodded. “Does it look genuine?”
He frowned, confusion flickering across his face.
“I’m just practicing for the emotional scenes coming up,” I said as brightly as I could manage. Method acting in the powder room. That was a thing, right?
I kind of liked that he noticed what nobody else did. That he cared enough to check on me instead of just writing me off.
“Okay,” he said.
When we returned to the table, I expected him to push through more scenes. To make me suffer through another hour of Jack’s barely concealed disdain and my own inadequacy.
Instead, Micah clapped his hands together. “Alright, everyone. I think that’s a good start for today. We got a feel for the material, identified some areas to work on. Let’s call it and reconvene Monday for a full day of rehearsal.”
Buzz looked up in surprise. “We’ve only been at it for an hour.”
“And I think that’s enough for now,” Micah said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want everyone to have time to really dig into their characters, memorize their lines, come back fresh.”
I felt my face flush. He cut the day short because of me. I was the weak link.
Jack stood immediately, clearly relieved to escape. “Sounds good. I’ll see you all Monday.” He grabbed his sunglasses and was out the door before anyone else had even gathered their scripts.
Lisa gave me a sympathetic smile as she packed up. “Don’t let it get to you. First table reads are always rough. You’ll find your rhythm.”
“Thanks,” I managed.
Buzz clapped me on the shoulder as he passed. “You’ve got good instincts. I could see it in there, even when you were fighting the nerves. Just trust yourself.”
Then it was just me, Micah, and Toby, who busied himself with cleaning up the coffee station.
“Grace.” Micah waited until I looked at him. “You’re going to be great. I know it.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to feel the confidence he seemed to have in me.
“Monday,” I said. “I’ll be better on Monday.”
“I know you will.”
He said it like there wasn’t an option. If I didn’t get my shit together, I was fired. That was the thing about Hollywood, easy come, easy go.
I left before I could embarrass myself further, practically running to my car. The moment I was alone, the tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over.
I wiped my eyes, started the car, and drove home. I had work to do.
I got home, made myself coffee, and set my phone up on the little holder to record me. I needed to see myself.
I went through every line. Every scene. Every character’s dialogue.
If I knew what Jack was going to say before he said it, I wouldn’t be thrown off by his delivery. If I understood the full context of every scene, I could react authentically instead of just waiting for my turn to talk.
I’d been at it for six hours straight. My eyes burned. My throat was dry from reading aloud. But I couldn’t stop.
“You think you can threaten me?” I said, delivering Jack’s line with all the menace I could muster. Then I switched, becoming Elena. “I think you underestimate how much I have to lose.”
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.