Page 8 of To the Moon and Back

She was a force, that was for sure. Lauren just hadn’t yetcategorized what kind: good, evil, or somewhere in between. Regardless, thetemperature in the space had changed noticeably when Carly arrived, and Laurenhad a feeling that working onStarryNightswas going to be a handful. Nothing she was wasn’t up for,however. She’d better buckle up.

* * *

Good God. That stage manager, Lauren, didn’t mess around. That’swhat Carly had come to understand in just the few days she’d known her. Whenshe’d arrived for their third rehearsal six minutes late, only six minutes,Lauren had pulled her aside and felt the need to pointthatout, too. Howimportant were six minutes in the scheme of life? That was actually a greatstep in the right direction. Why had Lauren not noticed that? The progress. Theday before she’d been twelve.

“We need to talk about your tardiness,” Lauren had said calmly toCarly during a quiet moment the day after that. “This is the third time inthree days. It’s eating into our rehearsal time, and I need you to make more ofan effort to be here before we begin. Shoot for fifteen minutes early, maybe?And if there’s anything I can do to help the process, please tell me. That’swhat I’m here for.”

“Are you offering to wake me up in the morning, Lauren?” She’dsaid it playfully, because let’s be honest, Lauren was really cute, a littletoo serious, and Carly was a harmless flirt. The comment fell flat. Ouch. Notthat kind of environment, apparently. A shame, too. Lauren was probably verystraight, and likely taken. She was a looker with all that thick brown hairpaired with a really pretty pair of green eyes, or were they hazel? No,definitely green.

Lauren blinked patiently. “If that’s what you need, I will happilybe your wake-up call. I’m serious about making sure we’re able to begin on timeeach day.”

For the love of a good martini! She’d been only six minutes late.Since when did that constitute a crisis? Their play would still come together.In fact, she’d been impressed with herself lately when it came to focus andresponsibility. She’d beenhourslate for film shoots and heard less about it. People tended to give youwhatever you wanted when your name was on the poster. The theater world, shewas finding, was way less forgiving and uptight as hell. She swallowed herreaction, however, remembering Alika’s advice to be good.

“Got it, coach. I’ll work on punching the clock more to yourliking, so you don’t have to worry about me so much. I mean, unless youwantto.”

Lauren smiled. If the coach nickname had rubbed her wrong, Carlynever would have known. Lauren-the-organized-beauty was a puzzle, never givingaway too much of what she was feeling. It made Carly want to find out andunwrap that mystery one piece at a time. There was a real girl underneath allof the business, and maybe one day, she’d get to meet her.

An hour later and here Carly sat, waiting for notes from EthanMoore on what was turning out to be a more complicated character than she’dever anticipated.

Ethan met her gaze with a thoughtful one of his own. “Carly, Ilove the frustrated sink to the floor, but can we try it again, the momentwhere Ashley notices Mandy nearby just after?”

Carly nodded at Ethan and reset herself in the scene. “Yeah, ofcourse. As in a fleeting glance, or something more meaningful?”

“Let Ashley’s stare linger a moment before she recesses into her thoughtsagain. Notice something about Mandy. You choose what that is. Oh, and I lovethe action of you blowing your hair off your forehead. You did it earlier.”

“Great. I’ll keep it.” She studied Evelyn, who sat waiting on thefloor of the faux airport for them to pick up again. Evelyn, Carly had decided,was a decent enough actress, but certainly not very giving within their scenework. Carly didn’t have a lot to play off emotionally. They were supposed to beconstructing this deep, destined-to-be relationship a little at a time, butwith Evelyn as her counterpart, they were falling flat. Surely Ethan felt that.Hopefully, they still had time.

This whole process was a trip. Carly had never been allotted thismuch rehearsal on any one project or character. With screen work, there wasrehearsal, sure, but it was short, and then you shot the scene, moved forwardto the next, and never looked back. The rehearsal process for the play,however, came with a never before experienced intensity for her. It blew Carly’smind how deep they were going with each nuanced moment, how much time theyinvested in just two minutes of the play. The technique allowed her to sink herteeth into this role like she’d never done before. The jury was still out onwhether this had been a good move, career-wise, but on the plus side, she waslearning a lot from working with Ethan Moore. He damn well knew his stuff.They’d gone over objectives, tactics, line-by-line intentions, all of it, andthey still had over three quarters of the play ahead of them. Mind-boggling.

“You good, Evelyn?” Carly asked before beginning. Evelyn noddedpolitely and looked away as if choosing not to engage further. “Before westart, do you need anything more from me in the scene? Or less, for thatmatter? I’m open.”

“I’m good,” Evelyn said coolly.

Inside, Carly sighed. The two of them definitely had differentprocesses. Carly liked finding the moments in the rehearsal room, taking a moreorganic approach. Evelyn showed up with every choice already made in advance.What you saw on the first run-through of the day with Evelyn was often the sameset of choices she ended with. Didn’t allow for a ton of collaboration.

As Carly reset herself for another run of the scene, she stole aglance at Lauren Prescott, who sat at the table next to Ethan, complete withher clipboard and series of file folders, all neatly laid out. She wasstudiously scribbling something in her production book. From the moment they’dfirst met, she’d noticed Lauren. She came with a quality that was hard to lookaway from. She carried herself with confidence, and while she seemed friendly,there was also a removed quality that drove Carly nuts. She’d tried severaltimes to break through that shell, to only fleeting success.

“Lauren?” she’d asked on their last break of the day, because shewas apparently five years old and simply couldn’t seem to leave it alone.

“Yep. What can I do for you?”

She rested her chin in her hand, hoping Lauren would make eyecontact. “How many tickles do you think it takes to make an octopus laugh? I’mjust curious. I’ve been dying to figure it out. Up all night. It’s a problem.”She flashed what she hoped was a killer smile.

Lauren looked up from her laptop with confusion in her green eyesthat quickly dissolved into what could best be described as slight amusement.Not a full-on smile, no, but the start of one. “I don’t know, Carly. Why don’tyou tell me how many? I have a feeling you know.”

“Ten, Lauren.Tenticklesto make an octopus laugh. Can you imagine?”

Lauren shook her head and laughed silently, returning to thesolace of her production book. “I can’t believe you just said that,” shemurmured. Her dark hair, when Carly studied its length, fell just above herbreasts, not that she knew much about them. The clothes Lauren wore to work,while professional enough, didn’t offer too many glimpses of the body beneath,which she had a feeling was being undersold.

“Oh, but I did. I did say it. And there’s more where that camefrom. I’ll hit you up tomorrow.”

“If you’re on time, I’ll consider it,” Lauren said casually, thistime not glancing up from her work.

“Now you’re just tempting me.”

“I’m entirely fine with that.”

Carly noticed that Lauren didn’t socialize with the cast muchduring their downtime. She maintained a professional distance, which made sensegiven how she was not only the person who kept them moving forward but, in away, the disciplinarian as well. Kind of like their very put together campcounselor.

---