Page 12 of Rebel Romeo

I roll my shoulders back, and stand taller.

Hell, even if I were wearing four-inch heels, I would still only come up to her chin.

I may not be as tall as her. I may not have as much experience as her. Hell, I may not even be as confident as her, but I can sure as hell fake it.

Fake it.

Isn’t that what Holden’s been trying to get me away from? Disingenuous, fake acting. All this time, all this work has been to delve into the core work. The truth. The vulnerability. How can I play Skyler authentically when I don’t live authentically?

Holden claims I have problems being vulnerable. And that's my greatest downfall as an actress. Maybe he's right. Maybe I need to work on that.

And maybe now is the perfect time to start.

“I’ll admit I was surprised to find out you and Holden were back together—,” I say. Okay, so that’s not exactly the entire truth… but baby steps.

“Are,” she corrects me. “We are back together.”

It’s truly a fucking miracle that I’m not cracking a molar with how tightly I gnash my teeth together. “Right,” I correct. “But that’s not what’s bothering me. I found out today that my dad isn’t doing well and he's having major surgery this weekend. And since we only have a few weeks of rehearsal left until opening, it doesn't even feel right to ask for the time off to go see him."

My voice trembles, and holy hell Holden was right. Vulnerability is not my forte. But I did it. I allowed myself to be vulnerable. And I have to admit, I feel a little bit lighter and a little less jaded by admitting this to the person I trust the least in the whole world.

In the few seconds it has taken me to tell her this, Missy’s face has softened. Her brows tilt in, and if I'm not mistaken, there is the slightest bit of moisture brimming against the edges of her lavender eyes.

"I'm sorry to hear that." She gives a soft clear of her throat, breaking eye contact with me for what feels like the first time all day. "Do you know what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

"We don't have an official diagnosis yet. But, typically speaking, exploratory surgery for a spot on the lungs of a lifelong smoker means one thing..."

"Cancer." Missy says, her frown deepening.

I nod, solemnly.

"It's this weekend?” Missy asks again and I nod. " Let me talk to Holden, Amy, Maggie, and the rest of the team. Maybe we can come up with something to make it so you can go visit him without delaying or hurting the show."

The shock on my face must be apparent.

I’m so shocked, I can’t even form the words to say thank you.

Missy rolls her eyes. "Well, you don't have to act quite so surprised. I'm not a total bitch. Only someone really evil would keep you from seeing a dying parent.”

I wince at her harsh words and press my lips together to stop myself from saying something I’ll regret.

“Sorry,” she says with a sigh. “I… I didn’t mean that. Look, my mom had a heart attack the preview night of Les Mis. I was too scared to ask for time off."

I try my best to not react with the shock I feel over her confession. “I'm so sorry,” I say, and I mean it. Despite us being drastically different people, I might have made the exact same choice as she did in that moment. We work our whole lives for this sort of break and in our business, it’s rare that you get two lucky chances. “Did she…”

"She pulled through, thank God. But I never would have forgiven myself if she hadn't."

From across the theater, Holden calls out Missy's name. Maybe it was the overhead lighting, or maybe it was the challenging rehearsal we’d all had… but he looks rough. Dark circles bruise beneath his eyes and his skin isn't the normal golden luminous it usually is. Instead, his coloring is gray. Sallow. Exhausted.

"I'm coming, babe,” Missy responds.

Babe.

The word roils in my stomach, turning over like spoiled leftovers.

She shifts her expensive purse to her other shoulder and switches a stack of papers to the crook of her elbow.

Within those papers is sheet music.

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