“Yep,” Lauren said, swallowing her own fear. Maddie’s arrival signaled the official start of opening night. This would kick off her prep for the show, leaving little downtime before the curtain went up. She smiled at Carly, who offered a nervous smile back.

“See you out there,” Carly said and gave her hand a squeeze.

Lauren grinned back. “On the other side.”

* * *

“Actors, to the stage please. Places for act one.”

Carly stared at the ceiling, glaring at Trip’s voice floating in through the sound system to her dressing room. She made no move to obey his request. She couldn’t. Her fear kept her glued to her chair, staring at her own seemingly distorted face in the mirror. Once she’d said good-bye to Lauren, she’d systematically come apart, realizing how ill-equipped she truly was. Even Lauren, who had been out of the acting game for a while now, was more prepared.

Moments later, Janie arrived at Carly’s door, wearing her headset. “Hey, Carly? We’re ready for you onstage. It’s time.”

Carly gripped the edge of the dressing table so hard she thought she might snap her fingers. Yet she couldn’t seem to let go. “I’m not ready,” she said quietly.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you,” Janie said. Carly couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything except the dark waves of Janie’s hair and the clear plastic framed glasses she wore that seemed to be so trendy now. She had a vanity pair of her own.

She tried again. “I need a minute.”

“Okay.” Janie watched her for a moment, her brows low and her lips pinched. “I’ll let Trip know.”

Carly was delaying their open of show, yet there was nothing she could do about it. She could hear Janie in the hall speaking in a hushed tone into her headset. Carly’s shoulders ached with tension, her skin felt cold and clammy, and her brain wouldn’t slow down for even a moment.

Trip appeared a moment later, his eyes wide. His hair seemed to be spelling out some sort of distress code with its various trajectories. Perhaps: run. “You feeling a little on edge, Car?” he asked, pushing a friendly smile.

Carly nodded. Trip was a nice guy. He might know what to do here, help her find the confidence she’d lost an hour ago. Or even more preferable, he’d just let her leave.

“I don’t actually think I can do this,” she confessed.

“I know it feels like a lot of pressure, but honestly? If you went out on that stage and gave half the performance you turned in on our last rehearsal, those people are going to love it.”