Kayla
Lara calls when I get back from the spa. At first,I just stare at my phone, not sure I want to answer. Not sure whether I’m going to tell her what happened.
But after spending two and a half hours having my feet massaged, my nails painted and my face peeled and moisturized, I’ve come to a realization: Pavel takes care of me.
He takes care of me like no one in my life ever has—and I had a nice, wholesome upbringing with two parents who drove me to every rehearsal and never missed a single performance.
So I’m going to surrender control and let Pavel take care of Blake Ensign and forget about my good-girl misgivings over what he’s doing.
“Hi Lara.”
“I just wanted to check to see how the audition went yesterday.” she asks.
I appreciate the check-in, even if it’s a day late. “Um, n
