Sasha
SashaI walk out of my acting class with a group of actors, still talking about the Stanislavaski exercise we did. It’s the third week I’ve been going, and I already feel like I belong. I have friends. I love the exercises. I’m getting the inside scoop on the Chicago scene.
Maxim found a Hollywood speech coach to help me with my accent in virtual sessions, and if I concentrate, you can barely tell I’m not American. At least, that’s what my new friends say.
“Hey Sasha, you want to join us for coffee?” one of the older women asks.
I hesitate.
At first, Maxim didn’t want to let me come to this class alone, but I threw a fit. Having a possessive and protective husband sitting in on class would make everyone think I was a freak. After a throw-down, he ended up dropping me off and pick
