Page 142 of Two-Step
In the moments when I’m alone with my thoughts—like in the make-up chair or in my trailer waiting for my call time—memories from out of nowhere pop up and rattle me. Bad ones. But good ones too, like the look on her face the day I landed my first part.
It’s happenin’, baby. Everything we’ve ever dreamed of.
I’d never seen her so happy, so hopeful. So proud.
Deep in the seat of my soul, I know acting is what I am meant to do, and without Moira, I never would have made it this far. So how can I ask a judge to issue an order to keep her two-hundred yards away from me?
Besides, other than coming to the set, she hasn’t tried to approach me. She hasn’t come by the house. She hasn’t followed me from the studio. She hasn’t tried calling me from an unblocked number.
But Ramon won’t let me out of his sight unless I’m with Beau.
He won’t leave the set even when I’m in front of the camera. I think he feels guilty for not being here when everything went down, but I keep telling him that I needed him right where he was.
It’s because of him that I now have a new manager, Lisa Livingston. She’s flying in next week to meet with me in person, but we’ve already had a few calls and a flurry of text messages about what I need her to provide and what I see as my next steps.
I almost feel bad saying it, but it’s all been so easy—once I stood up to Moira.
And I’m sorry that Ramon still feels guilty for leaving town, but if he hadn’t, Beau probably wouldn’t have been there when he was, and I might not have found the strength to do what I needed to do.
What I’ve needed to do for years, if I’m being honest.
The difference this time is Beau. He believed I could stand up to her, and I think that made me believe I could too. That I could defy her and strike out on my own and the world wouldn’t fracture and fall to pieces.
He helped me to trust my gut, and that made it feel safe. I mean, what could be safer than trusting myself?
And trusting myself has made me feel different in other ways. Not just different, but more tuned in. More awake. I’ve even noticed it on set.
In the scene we filmed this morning—when Raven has to confront a traitorous member of her coven—I felt a moment of… I don’t even know what it was. Energy, maybe? When my co-star needed just a little push to deliver her line with the right amount of force and feeling.
And that need felt like a pull—one that made me breathe deeper and deliver my line—the righteous accusation—with my own strong feeling. And when I did, it was like being the source of an updraft that sent her soaring.
She nailed the scene, and Jonathan was over the moon.
I can’t wait to tell Beau about it. All day, every day, I find myself itching to see him. Talk to him. Hell, even just text him. I’d never bring my phone on set and defy my director’s no-phone rule, but I’m counting down the minutes until Jonathan calls lunch so I can sprint to my trailer and check my messages.
When it happens, I’m not disappointed. The text is just twenty minutes old.
Beau: How’s my girl?
My smile runs wild. Whenever he calls me hisgirlor hisgirlfriend,I feel this tugging in my heart, like he’s beckoning me to him. I go willingly.
Me: Good. Nailed a scene earlier. Felt awesome.
I don’t think I can explain in a text how plugged-in I felt. Maybe it’s something I can share during class tonight. Or later.
Beau: Not surprised. You’re really good.
This catches my attention. He hasn’t admitted to watching the show.
Me: Have you been on Netflix recently?
I stand motionless in my trailer, watching the dots bounce and holding my breath.
Beau: Is it weird if I say yes?
Laughter escapes me.
Me: No! I’m honored.
