Chase Me (Broke and Beautiful #1)(37)

A fresh-faced redhead in a headset exited the inner office, holding a clipboard. Roxy sucked in a breath, praying they would call someone else first. She needed a minute to gather her thoughts, especially after the pulse-scrambling scene with Louis earlier. Thankfully, headset girl called a different name, and the blonde stood to follow her into the office.

Roxy sucked in a deep breath. Okay. Okay, you can do this. You are Missy. You’ve just been yanked out of your dream school, away from your boyfriend and best friends, to care for your mother. You should be eager to get to her side. Should be eager to be with your mother in her final moments. But you’re not. Not at all. You’ve never understood each other. She pawned you off onto strangers in your youth so she could shack up with the latest flavor of the week . . . and you’re angry. You’re so f*cking angry that caring for her is hard. Even if you know it’s your duty, you can’t let go of the shitty past. You’re guilty. You’re helpless. You’re mad.

A voice intruded on Roxy’s consciousness, snapping her head up and shooting her back into reality. The redhead stood at the office door, radiating impatience. “Yeah. Roxy Cumberland? We’re ready now.”

“Great.” Roxy uttered the word tightly, the way Missy would. In this moment, she could feel the necessary emotions bubbling around inside her. If she could just walk into that office and let these emotions loose, they would see her. See Missy inside her, dying to get out. Roxy shoved her script back inside the purse. She didn’t need it anymore. This is just like any other audition. You’ve walked into hundreds of rooms just like this. Take the fear and make it Missy’s, not your own. For the next five minutes, live inside the part.

She passed through the door at an efficient pace and found herself staring at a familiar sight. Three bored expressions with notes on the table in front of them. A handheld camera held aloft by a tripod, pointed in her direction. The only unfamiliar sight was seeing famous filmmaker Johan Strassberg sprawled out on a bean bag chair in the corner of the room. He held a laser pointer in his hand, flashing it in quick succession at the redheaded production assistant’s head, laughing as he did so. His feet were bare. Giant, noise-canceling headphones hugged his neck. He wasn’t so much handsome as he was adorable. That wide, boyish grin and those sparkling eyes had won him a lot of hearts among the public. If this wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured the brilliant filmmaker’s behavior, maybe it was just part of his process. He could afford to be a little offbeat.

“Which one is this?” Johan singsonged without even looking at her.

A bearded man in a Book of Mormon baseball cap consulted his notebook. “This is . . . Roxy Cumberland.”

“Never heard of her,” the frazzled blonde to his right mumbled into her Diet Coke.

Johan straightened from his casual position, eyeing her curiously. “Ah, Roxy Cumberland. I’ve heard so many good things.” He pointed his laser onto the ground and raised a dark eyebrow. “Are you here to dazzle us?”

“That’s the plan.”

Bearded Dude snorted.

Good. This is exactly what she needed. She needed them to underestimate her. It would leave her with nothing left to lose, just like the character she needed to portray. They were prepared to be underwhelmed? Well, it was time to wake these motherf*ckers up.

The blonde picked up a sheet of paper. “I’ll be reading with you today,” she droned. “Say your name into the camera and start when you’re ready.”

Roxy breathed deeply, taking a moment to put herself in Missy’s shoes, to block out everything except her mother, sitting across from her at the kitchen table. Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . .

“Pancakes, Mother?”

“Not hungry,” returned the blonde quickly.

Roxy gave a tight nod to portray Missy’s frustration. “Anything you want to do today?”

“Not particularly. I don’t see the point.”

Roxy gave a bitter laugh. “You know what? Me either.” Two steps toward the table. “Why exactly did you bring me home, Mother? Did you think it would be easier to sort through the wreckage if I was manageable? If I was sad to see you like this? Huh? What the hell was it?” In her mind, Roxy replaced the blonde with an older woman. A frail, but stubborn, woman. “You want me to feel guilty, is that it? Should I wear a crown of goddamn thorns on my head and hang myself on a cross to absolve you of the past? It doesn’t work like that. I don’t know how to feel anything for you.” Roxy picked up an imaginary pill bottle and shook it. She reached deep down inside herself, found a well full of helplessness, and plunged inside. “This doesn’t change anything. Nothing. Ever. Changes. Here.”

It took her a moment to realize the scene had finished. With her pulse racing, she risked a look at the table full of executives. The boredom had fled and had been replaced with interest. Even the blonde who’d read the part of Missy’s mother looked a little stunned. Good Lord, she hoped that didn’t mean she’d been horrible enough to render them speechless. Please let it be the opposite. She swallowed the knot of unease in her throat and glanced at Johan. At some point during her performance, he’d risen to his feet to stand behind the camera, perhaps to see her live and on screen at the same time.

“Cumberland, do you mind stepping out into the hallway?” Johan asked. “We’ll call you back in a minute.”