“You’re going to take everything from me, huh? Not gonna stop until you break me?” she murmured.
“Are you kiddin’ me?” I seethed, losing patience. “You have the entire world at your feet. Everything I have—this role, West, life—has come to me after twice the work you put into things.”
“Exactly!” Tess growled with frustration, waving her hands around in front of my face. “Exactly that, Grace. Everything you’ll ever achieve will be hard-earned, if even possible, in the world of acting. It’s clear Professor McGraw gave you this role to cut a corner and let you pass. I’m the one who gets screwed over here. I’m the one who is losing the role of her life.”
The worst part was I knew Tess truly wasn’t a horrible person deep inside. She simply wanted all the things that I’d happened to accomplish. Up until this year, until West and Blanche happened, she was the nicest to me out of all my peers.
Until I was no longer invisible to everyone else.
Until I became her competition.
Until I won.
“Tess,” I whispered, narrowing my eyes. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But I’m not goin’ to give up the role to appease you. I won’t give up on my boyfriend either. I hope you come to your senses and realize you’re better than this.” I jerked my chin in her general direction. “Have a good rest of the day. I’ll see you at four.”
Turning around, I walked away, feeling her eyes on my back, like a rifle’s lens.
Nobody warned me what was going to happen when the phoenix finally burst up from the ashes, ridding its glorious, red-tipped wings of the heavy dust.
That there would be other monsters and creatures to fight along the way.
That despite having its freedom, there were still battles ahead.
And that all of them would be bloody.
Grace
After a tense rehearsal which consisted of Tess moping and quarreling with Finlay over every minor thing—the stage’s lighting, the late hour, her coffee-stained manuscript, and even the dang weather (“It’s too hot, can’t we continue tomorrow?”) I made my way to my pickup, emotionally drained.
I was so exhausted that I resorted to texting West the good news about my role, which I was growing more and more excited about. I didn’t have it in me to pick up when he called. I couldn’t muster the enthusiasm that the conversation deserved. I promised myself I’d bring him a hearty sandwich tomorrow, made from scratch, and tell him about what had happened with Professor McGraw at length.
I parked in front of my house, walking in to the sound of a commotion upstairs. My back stiffened. Marla was yelling, and the persistent rattle of a wooden door echoed through the house.
“Open up, you old bat. I ain’t asking again. I’ll call Sheriff Jones and have him kick this thing down. You’re puttin’ yourself in real danger here!”
Lord, what now?
I dumped my backpack at the landing, racing up the stairs. Rounding the corner to the hallway, I spotted Marla pounding her fists on the bathroom door, her face flushed and hair a mess. Her fists were pink and swollen.
“Savannah!” Her roar almost blew the roof to the sky. “Open up right this second!”
The sound of water whooshing from the other side of the door filled my ears.
“No!” Grams’ voice jangled like a coin in an empty piggybank, hollow and screeching. “You ain’t fooling me no more. You want to lure my sweet, sweet Courtney back to drugs. I’m not opening up. I don’t know you, miss. If anything, I’m going to call Sheriff Jones and have him come arrest you. This is my property! I may be old, but I sure know my rights.”
It wasn’t the first or even fifth time Grams didn’t recognize Marla, but it was the first time she’d actively resisted her.
“What’s goin’ on?” I asked, placing my hand on her shoulder.
Marla wiped the sweat from her face, shaking her head. When she turned around to face me, I could tell she’d been crying. Her eyes were shiny and puffy.
“I can’t do this anymore, honey pie. I’m so sorry. I just can’t. Your grandmomma is …” She shook her head, pursing her lips to stop herself from bawling. “She’s not doing well. And keeping her here, undiagnosed, is not doing her any favors. You sending her to a nursing home is not about doing what’s convenient for you, sweetheart. It is not a selfish act. I wish you’d understand this. At this point, you’re doing the poor woman a disservice by keeping her here. She is no longer in a position to make her own choices. She ain’t lucid, and she belongs in a place that can accommodate her needs twenty-four seven. Grace …” She choked, her chin wobbling with the impending burst of a wail. “No one is going to accept this job. And that is something you must accept.”