Page 40 of Shine For Me

Fox

I’m so fucking screwed.

All the shit with the photographers had me forgetting for a minute, but now that June is safely back in her room, the reality of the situation is hitting me.

Ten pages. That’s how much new dialogue I need to learn by tomorrow. Ten fucking pages.

It’s not that I can’t read it myself. I can. It will take me longer than it would take most other people but I’ll get through ten pages in a decent amount of time. I’ll even be able to understand it.

But I won’t be able torememberit. There’s no fucking way I’ll be able to remember that many lines without hearing them first.

I’ve always been this way. My dyslexia didn’t seem like a very big deal when I was a kid. My parents were proactive about it, hiring me a tutor and making sure I was getting all the support the school could offer. By the time I was in middle school, I was reading at grade level. I still needed extra help, but it had ceased being a major inconvenience.

I’m pretty sure most of my family thinks it’s something that doesn’t even affect me anymore. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t encourage that thinking. The last thing I want is for people, especially the people I’m closest with, to see me differently. The stupid kid who can’t even read.

I feel like that kid right now, staring down at the endless black ink spilled all over the pages of the new script, trying to force the letters to take shape.

Calm down,I tell myself, hearing my mom’s voice in my head.You know how to do this. It’s worse when you’re overwhelmed.I’ve heard her say these words to me so many times over the years.

Daisy Harris Ransome always gives good advice. I’m starting to wish I would have listened to it months ago, when she urged me to hire a full-time personal assistant, someone who I could pay to help me with this shit.

Once we get the initial script, my mom always sits down and records herself reading my lines before filming starts. For some reason, hearing words read out loud have always made them stick. Audiobooks saved my ass throughout high school. So I can memorize my lines pretty easily just so long as I can hear them first. And my mom takes hours out of her life every time I book a movie to go over the script with me.

Have I mentioned the woman is a saint?

Of course scripts can and do change after we get on set, but I’m usually able to muddle through. If it’s immediate—an alteration for an upcoming scene when we’re already filming—it’s usually easier for the director to verbally go over the changes. If we have more warning than that, I call up my mom and she goes through it with me. It might not be the best process, but I’ve managed to muddle my way through five films this way.

It looks like my luck might be running out. My mom isn’t home tonight, and since I didn’t take her advice about hiring a PA, there’s no one else to call.

“Fuck,” I mutter, resting my forehead flat against the little dining table in my suite. My temples are starting to pound.

I could call my sister. Rose would help me, and she probably wouldn’t even give me any shit about it. But the thought of admitting to my ridiculously smart and accomplished sister that I still have trouble with this kind of thing makes my stomach twist in protest.

“You just have to fucking suck it up and get it done,” I tell myself. I glance around the four walls of my suite, feeling hemmed in. Maybe a change of scenery would help. I could go down to the lounge and get a coffee. Maybe a little noise will help me to not feel so stuck inside my own head.

Fat fucking chance.

I find a table in the corner where I hopefully won’t be too distracted by the rest of the room and order a latte with an extra shot. I’m definitely going to need it. I’ve never been a huge coffee guy, but I’m starting to see why June is so obsessed—if this stuff can help sharpen my mind, I’ll be a convert.

Half an hour later, I don’t think I’ve made much progress. I’ve gotten through all the pages twice, but, like always, the words just won’t stick in my head. I could try recording myself reading them, but that’s never helped me too much. My delivery isn’t smooth enough when I’m reading from the page, the cadence off as I have to think about every damn word. When I listen back to myself reading it, all I hear is the struggle.

I swear and rub a hand across my forehead. I’m going to have to suck it up and call Rose. At least it’s earlier on the West coast, so I won’t be waking her up.No, you’ll just be interrupting her evening with her husband.

“Fox?”

My head snaps up at the sound of June’s voice. She’s standing a few tables away, dressed in a simple black dress, her hair styled neatly. Something sour fills my stomach as I realize she’s changed since I dropped her off an hour ago. Is she going out to meet someone?

“Are you okay?” she asks, approaching my table. “You look really stressed.”

I force a grin up at her. “Bit of a headache, but I need to learn these lines.” My throat feels heavy as I swallow. “You look nice. Going out?”

She makes a face. “I just had drinks with Gabe. He had a whole list of instructions to pass along from my grandfather.” She looks down at the script on the table. “You want to run lines together?”

My entire body goes tense. I’ve run lines with June a hundred times—but only ever after I’d already learned them. If I try to read with her now, there’s no way I’ll be able to pretend I know what I’m doing.

“Nah.” I slide the script off the table and into my lap.

My refusal must have been more abrupt than I thought, because she looks decidedly hurt. Great.