Acting Brave (Fenbrook Academy #3) (37 page)

I knew what would fix it. I knew that if I went out to some random bar tonight and picked up a random guy, I could have someone to cling to in bed that night, someone I could fold my arms around if the nightmares came back. But I’d given that life up in favor of Ryan, traded the thing I knew worked for a forlorn hope at something better. Now, after our blow-up at Flicker, I’d lost both.

Given all that, it’s fair to say that I wasn’t in the best of moods when I showed up on the set. I was exhausted and stressed out and I was feeling betrayed—by Ryan, as well as by my brother. I was ready to go on the attack. I wanted to lash out at this guy who’d got under my skin and persuaded me to let my defenses down, only to go ahead and get drunk right in front of me, the very first time he met my friends. Well, I’d tell him where he could shove it—

And then I saw him.

Tony was meant to be a hard-living, rough-at-the-edges kind of a cop. Today, make-up wouldn’t even have to draw in the dark shadows under Ryan’s eyes or tousle his hair. He looked as if he’d slept in his car. As soon as he saw me, he started toward me but I folded my arms and just stared at him in an
I’m not talking to you
way.

He looked angry for a second, then sad. Then he said, “Look, if we’re going to fight we’d better do it now. We’ve got to film in an hour.”

I knew he was right, but I just glared at him.

Ryan grabbed one of the lighting guys. “We’re going in there,” he said, pointing to the interrogation room. “To run some lines.”

“Okay,” the guy said, “Sure.”

And with that, Ryan grabbed my elbow and pulled me into the interrogation room, slamming the door behind us.

The room was the real thing, a place where hundreds or maybe thousands of prisoners had been interrogated before they’d closed the police station down. Thick walls with chipped plaster where prisoners had managed to break free and slam a cop into it. A metal table and chairs bolted to the floor, both of them a maze of scratches and dents. Officially, of course, it was an
interview
room. But interrogation was what really went on in here.

I stalked to the far side of the room, my arms still folded. I could feel Ryan’s eyes on my back. I was still mad at him, but seeing the state he was in had made me soften just a little. On the other hand, it reminded me of the drinking, and my dad’s sullen moods the night after a bender, and that made my stomach tighten in sick, cold fear.

I could hear him breathing as he paced back and forth, trying to find the words that would calm me. He’d never seemed so like an animal, a huge beast trapped in the tiny room, forced to communicate when all he wanted to do was to grab me and pull me to him. “I’m sorry,” he said at last.

I was staring at a mark on the wall at about head height. A dark stain. Blood? Surely not. Surely they’d have cleaned that up, if it was blood. Or was the idea to intimidate suspects into complying? The whole room seemed to be designed to do that.

“It’s because I got drunk, right?” he said haltingly.

I didn’t answer, but I could feel my spine going tense and I knew he saw it.

When he spoke again, his voice was lower. “Did
he
used to drink?”

You’re old enough for the good stuff, now—

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said tightly.

I heard something, then. A sort of hard, muscular tightening. Maybe his knuckles cracking as his hands formed fists, or his back reacting as those huge shoulders set. The sound of him getting angry.

Chapter 44

Ryan

I wanted to break his neck. I wanted to push the guy who’d hurt Jasmine down to the ground and smash his head into the floor until it was a bloody pulp. I wanted to know who the bastard was—an ex-boyfriend, I guessed. I wanted to know what he’d done to her...and, at the same time, I didn’t want to know because I couldn’t stand the thought of it happening.

“Just don’t get drunk around me,” she said in a tiny voice.

“I won’t,” I said quickly. Goddamnit, I’d reminded her of some horrible thing, put it right back there in her mind where it could hurt her, all because I found it hard to talk to her friends. I wanted to dig a pit and throw myself into it. I reached for her, putting a hand on her back, and she jerked under my touch.
I can’t even touch her, now. Have I lost her already?

The anger at her attacker and the frustration at my own clumsiness was boiling up inside me. With anyone else, I would have lost it, right there. I would have ripped the table from its fixings and hurled it at the wall.

But the sight of her did what it always did—it acted like a safety valve. I focused on her, and I could feel the rage slowly settling.

“Jasmine,” I said quietly. “I will never drink like that around you again. I never want to do anything to hurt you. Or upset you. I’m sorry.”

She nodded. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath and I knew she was holding back tears. Then she turned around and—

There.

Right there.

Someone else was looking at me, the same person I’d glimpsed a few times, now. A scared, vulnerable girl hiding underneath the woman—

And then she swallowed and sort of shook her head, red hair flying, and she was
Jasmine
again. “Sorry,” she said. “Didn’t mean to freak out on you.”

I just stood there blinking at her.

“It’s okay,” she said. Her voice was normal, now, the tears gone. But it was too late. For the first time, I knew what was going on.

It was an act. It was all an act. And, like an idiot, I’d fallen for it. I’d seen what everyone else had seen and not what I should have been seeing. I’d only finally seen it now because I was watching her so damn closely.

“Are you acting?” I asked.

She stared at me, her face going pale. “What? No!” She smiled, trying to laugh it off.

“Are you
acting
right now?” I asked, horrified. “Have you been acting, this whole time?”

She opened her mouth and I could see from her expression that she was about to brush the accusation away. But she caught the look in my eyes, the cop look, I guess, and her lie died in her throat. She just looked up at me, helplessly.

I gripped her shoulders. “Jasmine, you don’t have to lie to me! You don’t have to act with me! Whatever you’ve been hiding, I want to see it. I want to see
you.”

She shook her head, not meeting my eyes. “No. You don’t.”

“
Yes I do!”

She shook her head again, going even paler, but I held her that way until she finally met my eyes again. I gave her a slow, firm nod. A tear formed in one eye and started to spill down her cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb. “You have to start trusting me,” I said. “This is no way to live. You can’t act 24-7.”

“I have to.”

“You can’t! You can’t pretend all the time. You’ll go nuts!”

“I have to!”
she almost screamed it. Then she looked up into my eyes, her face contorted with pain. “It’s the only way I can keep going!”

We stood there staring at each other. Then I pulled her to me and hugged her close as she descended into wracking sobs. I gripped her tight, wrapping my arms right around her back, covering as much of her as possible. I wanted to shield her from everything bad in the world. “Not with me,” I said at last. “Don’t do it with me. Okay? I want to know you.
You.
Not the you that everyone else sees. The real you.”

“Why?!”

“Because that’s the one I’m in love with!”

She froze. The room went utterly silent.

She shook her head. “You don’t know her.”

“Give me a chance to.”

She tore herself out of my arms and stumbled away from me, steadying herself on the edge of the table. I stayed quiet, giving her room. At last she said, her voice raw, “You can’t ask lots of questions. Okay? Or it won’t work.”

I nodded quickly. “Fine. Only tell me what you want to. But just stop acting.” I wasn’t sure if it would work. She was obviously keeping a lot from me, and it was tearing her apart inside. But this would be a good start. “I want to know if you’re hurting. I don’t want you to put on a mask. Not with me.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time. I could see her struggling with herself and it made my heart ache to watch the battle, knowing that, if she said
no,
this would be it. I’d have built her defenses up even higher instead of tearing them down. But there was nothing I could do, no more I could push her. She had to take the next step by herself.

At last, she turned around to face me. “I’ll try,” she whispered.

Chapter 45

Jasmine

He let out a long breath and sat down at the interrogation table. A moment later, I joined him. I kept my eyes on the table, not trusting myself to look at him. I felt horribly exposed. I’d opened up a huge, gaping hole in
Jasmine
and he was looking straight through into
Emma.
It felt so wrong, so alien that I thought I was going to be sick. And yet, at the same time, it felt lighter.

It was as if I’d just shed a huge, bulky spacesuit. I just wasn’t sure if I could survive without it. The words he’d said were still thrumming through my body, making it vibrate.
He’s in love with me. He’s in love with me. Me. Emma.
It was so shocking, so wonderful, that I couldn’t even take it in except in tiny little flashes, each one burning away some of the cold darkness inside me. My heart felt like it was seeing sunlight for the first time in years.

I let the auburn curtain of my hair hide my face until I felt as if I was under control, the occasional hot tear falling to plop on the scarred desk. When I finally looked at him, my breathing was steady. He was looking at me with the most sincere look of hope and love that I’d ever seen—it nearly made my heart stop.
What are you doing?!
My brain was screaming it at me over and over.
You can’t let him see Emma!

But I had to. If I wanted him, I had to. That’s what I told myself. That’s why I did it. And I convinced myself that I could let him see me - the broken, twisted mess that I was inside - without letting him know the facts. He could see what I was now, without ever having to know how I’d gotten that way. That’s what I thought.

I should have known I was kidding myself. I should have remembered that he was a cop, and cops never stop once they smell a mystery. But I was in love with him.

I think that was the first time I really let myself admit it.

I took a long, deep breath and nodded at him, as if to say,
I’m okay.
But I gave him a warning look, too, to remind him that we were on fragile, untested ice, here. I’d let down my defenses, but that was enough for now. I couldn’t go any further or I’d just fall apart.

He nodded back to me. He understood. “I’m sorry,” he told me. “I shouldn’t have gotten drunk. I sighed. “I just felt—out of my depth. Your friends.”

That at least gave me something else to think about. It was a relief, because sitting there being Emma for even a few minutes had me almost shaking with how vulnerable I felt. I didn’t need to act in order to talk about my friends. I didn’t have to be Jasmine or Emma, I could just...talk. I realized that I’d been so annoyed and upset by his drinking that I hadn’t really stopped to consider why he’d done it. “My friends?” I frowned and the anger started to rise again “What’s wrong with my friends?” There was a defensive note in my voice.
Are they not good enough for you?!

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He definitely looked paler than usual. I wondered how bad his hangover was. “They’re kind of intimidating,” he said.

That stopped me in my tracks.
Intimidating?!
How the hell could Nat and Clarissa and Karen be intimidating? They were the least intimidating people I’d ever met. But the anger that had been bubbling up inside me was gone. Now I was just confused.

He leaned closer to me. “Sometimes, I think you forget how special you are,” he said. He lifted one hand and ran his thumb over my cheek. “You’re like an angel, up there in this world of...actors and dancers and stuff. I’m just a beat cop. I’m down there on the ground, looking up.”

I blinked at him, amazed.
Special? I’m not special!
The others were, sure, but I wasn’t a real actress. I was just faking it. Didn’t he realize that?

And then he caught my eyes and my heart locked up tight in my chest. I didn’t even breathe. Because I could see in his eyes that he really believed it. He believed in me, in something deeper than Jasmine’s glamor and glitz.

“You’re like a goddess. You’re
perfect.
And for some reason you gave me a shot. Reached down to me. But the rest of you guys...those other actors who came over? I don’t know a damn thing about method acting. And I don’t know anything about classical music. And I don’t go skiing or drive a fancy car like Clarissa.”