Jackson doesn’t come to work for three days.

It’s like my worst nightmare. Production doesn’t stop, fortunately, since there are scenes that we can shoot without him, but everyone is pissed off. The studio is oddly silent about the whole thing, which makes me think they know what’s going on.

Lionel curses in German constantly, basically railing on Jackson and talking about how awful he is to work with. I can’t really blame him. Holly is oddly quiet, though she does commiserate with the crew. Mostly, people are confused, since it doesn’t seem like Jackson to just up and disappear.

I feel betrayed again. It’s like the old feelings are suddenly coming through again. I finally got rid of them, finally felt like I was moving on, but now it’s all creeping back. I’ve been staying up late with Laney watching bad TV and trying to ignore my problems, but I can’t ignore this.

He won’t answer his phone. It goes straight to voicemail every time I try to call. For two days, I call over and over, until I finally give up, feeling like such a fool. Jackson doesn’t want to be found, and if he did, he’d answer his damn phone.

I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I did this to myself. I should never have let him back into my life. I should have seen this coming. As soon as things get real, Jackson runs away. I’m starting to even question the story he told about his mother being sick and needing to pay for her medical bills. Maybe that’s partly true, but he probably did it to get away from me, too.

Work is dull and lifeless. I try to concentrate on what’s happening in front of me, but I can’t. Two days pass like that, but I don’t let myself cry. At least, I don’t let myself cry at work. At home, I’m a damn mess, and Laney almost doesn’t know what to do with me, poor girl. She’s not equipped to handle someone seriously depressed.

This is my worst nightmare come true. I knew things were bad for Jackson, that he felt like he was cornered and had no way out, but I had no clue he’d actually run away. We could have done something else, figured out another way. Or he could have just stayed in that fake relationship.

But that’s not Jackson. He doesn’t do fake, and he doesn’t compromise. He’s stubborn and hardheaded and when things get tough he runs away, leaving me heartbroken and alone.

I don’t know what to do. On day three of his disappearance, I go to work as always, and Lionel is just as salty as he has been since Jackson went away.

“Damn actors,” he says to me in his heavy accent. “Damn stinking actors. No good stinking damn shithead bastard actors. I hate them all, Tara, yes? You know this? I hate all the fuckers.” He slams his fist down on his desk.

“They’re the worst,” I say in response but my heart’s not in it.

Lionel gives me a strange look. “Are you okay?” he asks me. “You’ve seemed… off. Sad, maybe. Moping around.”

“I’m fine,” I say, looking away. I’m surprised he even noticed.

He steps toward me with a strange expression. “Sometimes life fucks you. But listen to me, Tara. You must fuck it back. Yes? You must always fuck it back.”

I meet his gaze and I can’t help but smile. That sounds so profound and so hilarious coming from him. “Okay,” I say.

“Good.” He pats my head like a little kid, which normally would be weird, but I let it slide. “Let’s get to work.”

And so I do. I get to work. We film a few scenes of extras, a few tracking shots and scenery things, basically whatever we can do that doesn’t involve Jackson. Holly goes through a few sequences and we do a few shots of the villain and his crew.

And for a little while, I forget about Jackson. Or at least I don’t feel the hurt so deeply inside of me for a little bit. I can lose myself in work and invest myself in what I’m doing, because I’m damn good at what I do. Maybe my title is lame, but I’m important on this set, and I earned that spot.

Lionel calls lunch and I find myself eating alone in a remote corner of the set. There’s fake wreckage strewn all around me, since we’re filming a plane crash sequence this afternoon. I’m sitting on a big piece of luggage that’s filled with rocks, so it weighs a damn ton.

As I’m eating, I spot Holly picking her way through the wreck. I look down, hoping she’ll pass me by and ignore me, but I’m not that lucky.

“Script girl,” she calls out. “I want to talk to you.”

I groan and look up. I force a smile on my face, because I still have to work with her after all. “What’s up?” I ask.

“Where’s Jackson?”

I shrug a little. “I don’t know. I thought you did.”

“Nope. I figured he just went on a damn bender, but it’s been three days now and he’s not back.”

“Jackson doesn’t go on benders,” I say.

“Whatever. Aren’t you his girlfriend or some shit?”

“No,” I say softly, shaking my head. “We were just friends a while ago.”

She makes a face. “That’s not what he said.” She sighs and stares at me. “This is annoying as fuck, you know? He said he had a script for me and now he’s just gone.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“This is your fault,” she says. “You scared him away somehow. Jesus Christ, you know, you’re such a fucking pathetic bitch. Now I’m not getting that part, all because you couldn’t hold on to your man.”

I stare at her and slowly put my food down on the ground beside me. I get up and walk over to her. Holly is about three inches taller than me, but anger flows through me like I’ve never felt before.

“What?” she asks, sneering at me. “Did I piss you off?”

I swing my hand back and slap her right across her smug, stupid face.

“Fuck you,” I say. “You’re the psycho bitch here. Everything Jackson’s been doing has been to get away from you. Leave him the fuck alone.”

She stares at me, wide-eyed and shocked. “You hit me.”

“I’ll do it again if you come near me, you cunt.” I don’t think I’ve ever called a woman a cunt before, much less slapped someone, but damn does it feel good.

I’ve wanted to hit Holly for a while now. I hate her smug face and how crazy she is. She’s the epitome of entitled bitch actress and I’m so tired of dealing with her shit. I wish I could hit her some more, beat the crap out of her, really take my anger out on her, but I know this is probably a huge mistake. I probably just ensured I’d get fired from this set. Holly can easily complain about me and get me thrown off set, maybe even destroy my career.

She backs away from me. “You’re crazy.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” I say to her. “Get your shit together and do your job.”

She just shakes her head, turns, and quickly walks away. I stare at her as she recedes and disappears into the trailers before I curl up on the ground, my back against the suitcase, and I cry.

I’m so stupid. I kept it together for so long, but now I just screwed myself. I’m going to lose my job and I’ve already lost Jackson for a second time. I don’t know what I’m going to do.

This is the lowest moment of my life. I hate Jackson for disappearing on me again and I hate myself for being so weak to let it happen. Now I just slapped Holly in the face, and while that felt freaking awesome, I really shouldn’t have done it.

After a quick cry, I finish my meal, and I get my shit together. I might as well be ready to go when she gets me thrown off the set.

But Lionel calls everyone back to action, and I don’t hear a peep from Holly. The rest of the day passes and I’m just waiting for the axe to fall, but it never does.

Holly doesn’t look at me. She doesn’t acknowledge me. In fact, it feels like she’s a little afraid of me. And I don’t get fired, which seems like a damn miracle.

When the day finally ends, I’m starting to feel like maybe Holly isn’t going to get me thrown off this movie. Maybe everything is going to be okay, or at least I’ll dodge one more disaster.

I lock the script up and get my things to head home. I’m not looking forward to sitting on the couch and moping all night again, but I don’t know what else to do. Maybe I’ll go out somewhere, try and forget about all this.

As I pass back through the trailers, I hear someone call my name. I look up and spot Holly waving at me.

My stomach fucking sinks. I hesitate a second, and I think I might just run away. I think I might just get the hell out of there and never look back. Maybe I can disappear like Jackson did.

Instead, I start walking toward my fate. I’m going to face it, whatever it may be.

“What’s up?” I ask her, knowing full well what’s happening.

But she doesn’t seem angry. “Come in here,” she says. “Someone wants to see you.”

She steps back into the development trailer. There’s a little conference room in there, so I have to figure that she called in Human Resources or something, and I’m about to get fired.

I follow her inside, taking a deep breath. No more running. No more hiding.

I’m facing what’s next.