Page 94 of Let’s Make a Scene

Chapter 30 CYNTHIE

“Not to worry,” I hear Acorn’s voice floating after me. “Meditation can bring up a lot of emotions.”

This room connects to another one with a long table running down the center, scripts laid out behind name cards, ready for our read-through. My breath is still coming in short, sharp drags. I head for the French doors, which open up onto a small green space. There’s a covered patio with a tiled floor and a collection of utilitarian metal garden furniture, and a square of lawn with a couple of benches. It’s quiet and the air is cool and I suck it down eagerly.

I sit on one of the cold, metal chairs, and place my hand on my chest like Jack showed me. I close my eyes and try to remember what he said, try to breathe just as he told me, and slowly, as I focus my awareness on the pressure of my fingers, the panic eases.

When my eyes open, I find Jasmine standing in front of me. She holds a lit cigarette and eyes me with mild interest.

“Are you all right now?” she asks.

I nod, embarrassed. “Yes, I just had a bit of a funny turn.”

Jasmine rolls her eyes. “There’s no need to be so Victorian about it. Don’t bother with euphemisms on my behalf, just call it what it was—a panic attack. It’s not like you’re the first person in the entertainment industry to have one. You’re not even the first person in this garden to have one.”

Somehow this brusque response is extremely soothing. I manage a smile. “Give me a chance,” I say. “It’s only my second one. I’m still getting used to the idea.”

Jasmine takes a thoughtful drag on her cigarette. “Interesting,” she says finally. “I don’t suppose this would have anythung to do with a certain dickhead named Shawn Hardy?”

I flinch at the name, but then I suppose Jasmine isn’t one to mince her words. “I don’t know,” I say, and I rub my fingers against my forehead. “Probably.”

I don’t hear whatever Jasmine starts to say, because the door behind her opens and Jack appears with a glass of water in his hand. He hesitates on the threshold.

“Sorry.” He looks from me to Jasmine and back. “I wasn’t sure what to do, if you wanted company or not…”

“Don’t mind me,” Jasmine says, tossing her cigarette to the ground and grinding it under her clompy black boot. “I’m going to go and extract everyone from my brother’s wellness retreat and see if we can get some work done.” She shoots me a sharp look. “You take a few minutes, whatever you need.”

“Thanks,” I murmur, but she’s already stomping back inside.

“Hey.” Jack steps toward me, a tentative smile on his face. “You rushed out of there. You okay?” He hands me the glass of water, and I sip it gratefully.

“I had another panic attack,” I admit, and his expression softens with concern. “It wasn’t as bad as before,” I add quickly, placing the glass down on the table beside me. “And I got it under control.”

“That’s good,” he says, and he pulls out the chair across from me, sitting in it and leaning forward. “Was there something specific that triggered it?”

“You mean you don’t find Tibetan singing bowls and women called Acorn to be panic inducing?”

He laughs. “I mean, it isn’t how I’d choose to spend my morning, but I thought it was okay.”

“Yes, I know. You looked totally zen. Top student.”

His mouth pulls up. “I was reciting my lines in my head,” he admits. “I didn’t take in anything poor Acorn was saying.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “You phony.”

“So,” he says, reaching out and tugging one of my hands into his. He brushes his thumb across the top of my knuckles and I watch the movement avidly. “What’s going on?”

I shrug. “Just first day nerves I guess.”

“Is that usual for you?”

His thumb still moves gently back and forth over my skin. “I suppose not,” I say reluctantly.

I can feel him waiting, patiently. I have a horrible feeling he’d sit and wait all day.

“The last film I made wasn’t a great experience,” I say, finally.

“The one you did with Shawn?” I can hear the distaste in his voice as he says the name.