Page 28 of Catch Me (Townsend Legacy #4)

A ndreas

“Today’s the big day,” Ron Stokes says as he takes his seat next to me in the makeup chair. It’s almost seven in the morning, but we’re already in the trailer prepping for today’s shoot.

This, out of all of the filming days, is scheduled to be the longest and most intense filming in terms of emotion. It’s the scene I’ve been preparing to film ever since I took on this role.

“Are you ready for it?” he asks. “Want to run lines one more time?”

I shake my head. “I’ve run the lines thousands of times, at least,” I comment. “Not counting the many times I’ve gone over and over this scene in my head, in the shower, in the car …”

He chuckles. “You’ll knock it out of the park.”

That I will because I’ve prepared for this scene more than anyone knows.

“Michael wouldn’t have chosen you for this role if he didn’t think you were up to the challenge. You’ve done a hell of a job so far. This part was meant for you,” he encourages.

“Thanks, man. You haven’t been a slouch either.” I hold out my fist to which he bumps my knuckles before standing.

“It’s my time. See you in a bit.”

I nod as he leaves before pulling out my phone. Ivy sent me a late-night message once she got in from her night out with her friends.

I wanted her to return to my place instead of back to her apartment, but I was already asleep by the time she texted me and I had to leave super early for today’s shoot.

“And you’re all set,” the makeup artist says, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Go break a leg.” She winks at me before she starts gathering her items.

“Thank you.”

Barely a second later there’s a knock on the trailer door.

“Andreas, we’re ready for you.”

My heart starts racing. Not out of fear, but in anticipation. I’ve been looking forward to this scene for months, preparing for it. Now it’s here.

I open the trailer door and follow behind the crew member who’s come to retrieve me. As I do, I run the scene lines over in my head. I’ve already memorized them, but I don’t want to just recite lines from a script.

So, I recall all the way back to the beginning of filming. All of the emotions that Shawn, my character, had that have led to this pivotal moment in his life. It’s the emotion that’s the heart of a character.

“Make sure it’s been blocked properly,” Michael Keith tells one of the crew members as I approach. “We’re going to be here for a few hours, but we’ll need that blocking for this afternoon and tonight.”

He catches my eyes. “Ready?”

“Have I ever shown up not ready?” I lift an eyebrow, which causes him to smirk.

“Unlike many of the actors I’ve worked with, your level of cockiness works for me.”

“Then let's get started.”

He juts his head toward my spot in the middle of the staged scene. I head over. Despite the sounds going on around me from the various crew members repositioning things or setting up cameras to get the right angles, I block all of it out.

Once I get into position, I look back toward Michael Keith, waiting for his cue, but I spot movement behind him.

It’s Ivy. She’s not talking or trying to stand out. In fact, it looks like she’s doing her best to remain unseen.

I lock eyes with her, and a calmness washes over me. Though there’s a considerable distance between us, I can read the emotion in the pools of those coffee brown irises. Encouragement.

You’ve got this.

A smile twists at my lips, but I quickly stifle it. This isn’t a funny or lighthearted scene. All of Shawn’s hopes and dreams crumble around him in this scene.

Go to that place.

Victor Rivez’s words during our last session for this role, a few weeks ago, come back to me. At the time, he’d told me to recall back on a time in my life when I might have felt as devastated as this character.

Then he laughed it off and said a golden boy like me probably hadn’t experienced any emotions like that in my life.

He was wrong.

At the time, I thought about my family, my twin, and the time I came closer than I ever want to losing him.

But now as I stand here, all I can think about is Ivy.

Rather, I start to think about what it would feel like to lose her. For our story to end before its truly ever began, just like this character.

The heaviness in my chest constricts my breathing. I barely hear Michael call ‘action.’ But as soon as he does, I’m in the scene. Something deeper than my conscious memory takes over as I verbalize my lines.

It’s almost as if my body is on autopilot and I’m watching myself from a distance. There’s a connectedness between my physical body and the deeper, emotional consciousness that’s carrying this scene.

Before I know it, Michael calls cut.

A silence falls around me.

Slowly, I look toward the other actors and crew standing still watching. I spot one of the camera women quickly wiping away a tear.

My forehead wrinkles in concern.

I turn to Michael.

“Should we run it again?”

He doesn’t answer at first. But then he shakes his head with a deliberate slowness. “No. No, I don’t think we need to run that one again.”

There’s something in his voice.

Pride?

Satisfaction?

Whatever it is, it lets me know that I just nailed this scene.

And while I still am not one to actively seek out others approval, I am damn proud of delivering.