Page 130 of Rebel Romeo

“I knew you had it in you.” Laurie stops me mid-stride when dress rehearsal ends with those seven small words.

I spin slowly to face her from the wings of the stage. “Excuse me?”

“I have been trying to get that sort of performance from you for five years?—”

“Four and a half years,” I correct her, unable to keep the bitter snap from encroaching my voice. “We both know my performance freshman year was incredible. You might be able to rewrite that history with the rest of the world, but not with me.”

I’m not sure where this burst of confidence comes from, but it’s refreshing. Like diving into the cold ocean after spending a sweaty summer day on a crammed subway.

To my dismay, Laurie doesn’t argue with me. “But your performance tonight makes your performance in Remy and Julie look like a high school production. Keep it up.”

From over McCay’s shoulder, Holden’s wary gaze latches onto mine from where he’s discussing something with Maggie.

When Laurie pivots to walk away, I stop her, my voice a desperate plea. “How?”

She glances over my shoulder. “By tapping into that anger you had for Holden every night. As an actor, you may forgive people for how they’ve wronged you, but never forget how they made you feel. Those memories are a bank of information for every part we’re given to play. Every night, by the end of Act 1, you should hate Holden. At intermission, the sight of him should roil your stomach.”

“You mean Zach,” I whisper. “ By the end of Act 1, I should hate Zach.”

“Oh? Is that what I mean?” She takes a step closer to me, dropping her voice to a whisper. “You saw it, right? How he steals the scenes from you? Pulls focus, even when it’s supposed to be your moment?”

I gulp back a trembling breath, refusing to let her know that I see she’s right. But when I don’t answer, she simply shakes her head. “I understand why you can’t forgive me. Why you’ll always hate me. What I don’t understand is how you can forgive Holden.”

My jaw clenches. “Because he apologized. Can’t say the same for you or Erik Dorsey.”

This time, I’m the one to walk away. I spin and rush to my dressing room, ignoring the sound of someone calling my name behind me.

I slam the door shut and grip my makeup table, the edge of the laminate biting into the soft flesh of my palms.

Finding the anger when I’m acting isn’t the hard part. I’ve been scared to access that side of me, to feel all the anger again, because it took me so long to finally let go of it.

With shaking hands, I reach for my purse, accidentally dropping it and spilling items out onto my makeup counter.

“Shit,” I mutter and begin stuffing them back inside. My fingertips brush the rumpled, used cigarette I had taken from Holden a few weeks ago. His vice and his safety net all wrapped up into one tiny little thing.

I roll the cigarette between my fingers and examine the initials I had scribbled onto it years ago. KH.

In some ways, maybe all ways, I’m Holden’s vice. And his safety net.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I gently put the cigarette back into my lipstick case and tuck it back into my purse just as Holden enters my dressing room.

“What did she say to you?” he asks, concern filling his voice.

I spin around to face him, my voice harsher and louder than I intend it to be. “Why do you do that?”

He’s startled by my outburst. Of course he is. Hell, I’m startled by it. “Do what?”

I take a breath, trying to gather my thoughts. I’m done letting Holden walk all over me. “Steal the spotlight. Why is it every chance you get when you’re on as an actor, you take moments from your costars.”

“I don’t?—”

“You do! You know you do! How am I supposed to get angry at you on stage every night and access every ounce of fury, then find the strength to let go of it every night when the show is over and go home and love you?”

His shoulders turn momentarily stiff before the combative pull to his brows loosens. The scowl dipping his mouth lifts slightly like all the tension slips from his grasp and the expression on his face is one I’ve never seen before and I can’t read it.

He’s blank.

Utterly, completely blank.

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