Just then Liam enters the room. When he sees me, he gives me a quick wave, then goes and sits down. He seems on edge as he pulls out his script and bends over it in concentration. When the camera crew comes over to film him, he shoos them away, then goes back to squinting at the page in front of him.
Huh. I’ve never seen him with his script before. He tugs on his hair in agitation, and I wonder if it’s because his picture is splashed all over the Internet. Or maybe he’s still embarrassed about our exchange at the door on Saturday night. Perhaps both?
When we start rehearsal, it becomes even clearer he’s distracted. Angel enters for their first exchange, and he messes up nearly every line. After a few failed attempts, he sighs in frustration. “Shit. Sorry, Marco.”
“It’s all right, Mr. Quinn,” Marco says. “Elissa, please remind Liam of his next speech.”
I read Petruchio’s lines from my script. “You lie, in faith for you are call’d plain Kate. And bonny Kate and sometimes Kate the curst. But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom. Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate. For dainties are all Kates—”
“Stop,” Liam says, and holds up his hand. “Just slow down for a second. What comes after, ‘And bonny Kate’?”
I reread the line. He shakes his head and sighs. “Again.”
I repeat it. He says it back.
When we restart the scene, he nails it, but everything grinds to a halt again after Angel gives him his next cue.
She walks over and cradles his face. “You okay? You look flushed.”
Liam’s takes her hands and squeezes them. “Just having a bad day, that’s all. I’ll be right back.”
He pulls away from her and takes off his mic pack. Then he points to the camera crew and says, “Stay,” before he strides out of the room.
Okay, what the hell is going on? I’ve never seen Liam so unprepared.
“Damage control, please, Elissa,” Marco whispers. “I’ll stay here and work with Angel. Find out what’s going on and fix it. The last thing we need right now is to fall behind schedule. Our backers are coming next week, and I want them to feel confident our stars are worth their exorbitant fees.”
“On it.” I head off to find Liam. I check the conference room first, but it’s empty. When I hear banging coming from the men’s bathroom, I open the door to find Liam standing over a destroyed trash can.
“So, did it attack you first and you were just acting in self-defense, or—”
“Sorry. I’ll replace it.”
“No need. That trash can’s an asshole. We’re all better o without it.”
He runs his hand through his hair. I can tell he’s trying to calm himself down, but right now, he looks as though he’d like nothing more than to beat the crap out of another inanimate object. Everything in his posture screams of tension and barely controlled aggression.
“Liam, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“We both know that’s not true. You’re blowing lines right and left, and that’s not like you.”
He leans back against the wall and drops his head back. “I didn’t get as much time to prepare for this week’s rehearsals as I would have liked. I don’t know the lines.”
I step into the bathroom and close the door behind me. “Well, you should have said something. I’m sure Marco will let you hold your script.”
“I can’t use the script.” I don’t miss how his hands are curled into fists.
“Are you really that averse to using your glasses? It would only be for a few days.”
“No, Elissa. It’s not about glasses. I can’t—” He pushes away from the wall and shakes his head. “I can’t believe I have to tell you this.”
A shiver runs up my spine. “Liam, you’re . . . You don’t need glasses, do you?”
He pulls in a shaky breath. “I’m dyslexic. Severely. I can make out a few words here and there, but it takes forever. All the words swim and blur in front of my eyes.”
I take a moment to process it. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Like I wanted you to know I’m a dumb-ass.”
“Oh, please. You’re one of the most intelligent men I know.”
“And yet, I can’t read a menu at a restaurant without hurting my brain.” I can see how much he hates admitting it. “Outside of my family, only my agent and my assistant know. And now you.”
“Angel doesn’t know?” He shakes his head. “Liam, she’s going to be your wife. She loves you. Telling her isn’t going to change that.”
“She’ll treat me differently. Everyone who knows does. They don’t mean to, but they do.”
“I won’t.”
“You say that now, but give it time.”
“How have you managed to hide it all these years?”
“The glasses excuse is gold; usually, no one thinks to question it. When I first started acting, Mom would run lines with me. Or record them so I could learn them in my own time. When Anthony Kent signed me, I figured he should know. He immediately lined me up with David, my assistant. He’s been with me on all the movies.”