Between You And Me

4~Trust the Process

"That's what the notorious Daphne Brookshaw does, huh?” His footsteps followed me heavily down the hall of the studio, the murmurs of our co-stars echoing from the room behind us. Of course, I knew I was being childish and irrational about quitting the first big role I’d had in years, but it seemed as though everything I did was wrong. Everything to him seemed wrong outside of my mouth. “She just quit!” He snapped his fingers behind me as I rushed my pacing toward the door. He did the same. “Like that.”

I rolled my eyes, trying my best to ignore him and the nagging sensation in my gut every time he spoke. There’s something about him that…urked my senses. Like a melody, you could hum but couldn’t quite recall where and it brought a sour taste to my mouth the more he invaded my space, my attention. Was I walking away from this project because of him or because I was afraid I'd realize a tune I’d become comfortable forgetting?

“Wait!”

My hand paused on the door handle, turning back around at him for the first time. The blond strands of hair had become disheveled from chasing me, which only gave him a dramatically dashing demeanor that had the butterflies in my stomach fluttering uncontrollably.

Then our eyes met.

“Don’t quit, Daphne,” he sighed, defeatedly. Raking a hand through his hair, he caught his breath before looking down at me, his green eyes conveying a ping of sorrow I hadn’t noticed before. “I know I’m hard on you but that’s because…I know what you’re capable of.”

An eyebrow lifted, wondering what he meant by that statement. What I was capable of… I opened my mouth to reply, a part of me opening there wasn’t any insinuation about my horrible reputation as a crazed primadonna lurching further into his thoughts about me and my capability. Or…

As though he could read my thoughts, he shook his head. “I didn’t mean that.” Noticing my hesitation, hand wavering on the door, he continued. “I meant I know what you’re capable of when you put your entire being into acting; into being the character to the best of your abilities. I’m not trying to be harsh on you, but I need you to reach that capability throughout the entirety of this project, not only for everyone working on this but for yourself. I know what they say about you in the tabloids, but I know from watching your acting before that you’re capable of so much more than the mere nepo baby tyrant they think you are. You have your talent and brilliance and I believe this project will finally allow others to see that. Just…don’t quit…”

I stayed silent, thoughts swirling around my head like leaves trapped in the spiral of wind. He’s heard what they’ve said about me and still wants me on this. Yes, there’s a lot I don’t know about this project, about myself, but is Cross truly the one who’ll help me figure those things out? Or is he just trying to pamper my ego to stop me from quitting to save himself and this project?

There was very little I knew about him, Caleb Cross, second generation director after his father and probably known more for being his father’s son than anything. That was something I could understand, being the child of someone famous and having to live up to their momentous achievements in the same field. Was this his first big solo project? Subconsciously, I noted that I should probably do more research on him when I got home.

Finally dropping my hand from the door, I felt a thought trickling out my lips without meaning to. “I don’t know if I have that…capability.”

“You do,” he reassured me hastily. Taking a deep breath, probably feeling as though I wouldn’t run away at this point, he straightened himself, returning to the tough, cold demeanor he’s more known for. “Instead of practicing at home, I would like to have one-on-one sessions with you so you’ll know what I’m looking for within each line…”

“And you won’t embarrass me further, right?” I sneered, still feeling the utter humiliation from each failed line I attempted in front of my co-stars. I wrapped an arm around my stomach at the thought of returning to them, knowing they saw me at my lowest, at my cruelest. They’d never respect me now.

For the first time, he chuckled, his velvety voice like a warm, comforting blanket in the cold breeze of my unease. “I can be harsh sometimes but, no, I won’t embarrass you like that again.” Composing himself, he took a step forward towards me, his forest green eyes hypnotizing me in his hold, and the scent of spearmint soothing me into familiar submission. “You acted in an off-broadway play called Unanimous a few years ago, which was the first time I’d seen you act. Not on that ridiculous sitcom or those bland commercials. I saw the real you on stage, crying real tears as a young widow trying to piece her life together and find forgiveness not just for her husband's murderer but for yourself. I know you can do this because I saw it that summer and I’ll never forget it.” His bottom lip trembled, his eyes whispering something his lips wouldn’t dare speak at the moment.

I’ll never forget you.

I shook my head at the idiotic thought of those being his next words. We’d just met and he was initially my boss for the next few weeks, months even, and here I was thinking such salacious thoughts of a man I barely knew.

As though he’d also stepped out of a trance, he continued in a composed style. “And what you said back there…about the victims and this story being based on real people, you’re right. We don’t have the right to tell their stories but their story deserves to be told, even yours. And I’m going to be respectful to them as people, not just fictional characters. However, even as I wrote this script, I knew something was missing.” This time, his lips didn’t tremble, holding back forbidden words again. “You. You went through so much and yet you can hardly recall anything about that night or yourself. I told you I want to help with that and I will. But I need you to trust the process, to trust me.” Offering his hand to shake towards me, I hesitated a moment. Why was he saying all the right words? Why did I want to trust him and the process for this project? “Work with me to make this film a success.”

With a silent nod, I took his warm palm in mine and shook it, feeling familiar electricity for a moment before it vanished. He attempted to hide a tremor with the shake but I noticed his eyes widen and I could practically feel his heart thumping in his hand. Or was that mine?

I snatched it away before I could fall into something I shouldn’t have been. “Umm, I guess I’ll start…practicing my line,” I said, nervously, the butterflies flapping faster, like a schoolkid with a crush. So ridiculous.

“At home and then tomorrow, we’ll start with a one-on-one session.” He paused for a moment, a thought crossing his mind. “Also, if that’s alright with you, we’ll have Dr. Travino keep observation.” I nodded, although the thought of being observed by a shrink meant to weed out the crazy wasn’t to my liking. But I understood the precaution.

For decades, Hollywood and the film industry were notorious for director/actor scandals when it came to one on one sessions that have opened the floodgates to lawsuits and payouts. He’s a well-established director in the film world with a reputation that, hopefully, wouldn’t become as tarnished as mine had become if he kept playing his cards right.

“Of course.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Oh, look who decided to show up.”

I didn’t have to look up to recognize Rosemarie’s annoyingly melodious voice in my ear as she entered the room. I’d arrived almost two hours before everyone, only beaten by Director Cross. He had an advantage as he stayed on the property in a trailer, only coming out and joining me in the session room when Dr. Trevino arrived to observe forty-five minutes later. Having read the script from cover to cover last night, only getting a few hours to sleep just to get here early and start reading it through again, I became impressed by the script. The conversations between these known characters in my life before seemed to scratch the surface of memories still buried deep within myself. A few times, I would have to stop reading, realizing I needed to catch my breath as I felt my skull almost cave in. During those moments, a piece of me wanted to throw away the script and admit my father was right to keep me from reading its entirety.

But I carried on, re-reading my line once more before finally granting Rosemarie the attention she so wholeheartedly craved. “Oh, Rosemarie. The thought of leaving you with no suitable competition would have been heartbreaking, so I decided to stay.”

Her button nose curled at my reply before huffing and taking her seat as the others started to gather in the room. Once everyone was seated, Director Cross stood at the head of the table, everyone’s attention on him.

“Good morning, everyone. I'm glad you are all here and ready for this table reading.” He leaned forwards on the table, his fingertips just barely gracing the oak wood structure. “Once we get through the entirety of this successfully…” He paused, looking among us at the table, a sinister smile gradually graced his handsome face. “We’re going on a short field trip.”

A curious silence swept through the room, eyes roaming questioningly at one another until a few widened to a realization I hadn’t quite captured yet. L.J., who played Aaron, raised his hand as though he were in class, not even waiting for Cross to call on him.

“Arewegoingtothehouse?” he asked, rushing his words in excitement.

The room seemed to cheer up with gasps and smiling faces until their eyes eventually landed in my direction. In an attempt to remain calm, I kept my hands beneath the table so they wouldn’t see them trembling at the mention of going to ‘the house’ despite hardly remembering it. Always the focus of attention, something I should have gotten used to years ago. Why were they staring at me so much?

Cross cleared his throat, the room lowering in volume instinctively. Once they were finally silent, their attention finally on him rather than myself, he answered. “Yes…but only if we finish this reading. Owen, can you start on part one, section 36 with a conversation between Eric and Aaron? And Daphne, may I see you in the hall for a moment?”

I nodded, getting out of my seat. Cross gestured for Owen to start reading with the other cast members as we headed for the door to speak. He stood behind me, one long arm opening the door while his other hand touched the small of my back, sending waves of apprehension through me. I straightened myself, walking briskly away from the contact, outside the door until we were far enough from earshot.

“You don’t have to go if you aren’t ready, but I would like you to be there along with the rest of your co-workers,” he stated with no hesitation. “We can bring along Dr. Trevino…”

I immediately shook my head, taking a deep breath. “No, I can handle it. I barely remember that house anyway, so, no need to bring her along.”

Dr. Trevino, since this morning, has just been monitoring me like a rat in a science experiment, jotting down the smallest things on her notepad which annoyed the crud out of me. The last thing I needed was a psychiatrist jotting down things about me with my fellow cast members around, who already saw me as a pariah. I could already hear them murmuring about me while circling the house, wondering about my reaction towards ‘the house.’ It was as though everyone was waiting with bated breath for me to finally break down in front of them. When will she have another breakdown? Is she going to go crazy like last time? Should I film this?

Although he could read my mind, or maybe it was written all over my face, he placed a hand on my shoulder, catching my attention. “You know what? Let’s go, just the two of us. Check out the house together without prying eyes and get the lay of the land as a practice run. What do you say?”

I liked the idea. But would this be deemed as special treatment? I could already hear Rosemarie’s voice in my head snickering about how Director Cross was prioritizing me over the rest of the members. However, the thought of actually having another breakdown in front of them weighed more than her thoughts of me alone. Especially when his voice entered my mind: I need you to trust the process, to trust me.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”