Page 17 of All That Glitters

It’s dull, flat. Lifeless.

Not at all the performance I heard her give at casting.

“What do you think I want with you?” She reads it in a deeper tenor to mark her scene partner’s dialogue. And then, in her normal voice, “I think you want to fuck me. I think you want to fuck me right here on this couch. You don’t actually want my help with the house. You know why I came here today, Mr. Patterson. You know what I want.”

Shit. What happened? Between then and now, what changed inside her? Is it the part about her being a virgin?

I scoff but can’t make myself walk forward to interrupt her. Not yet.

Her hair has dried from another shower, thank God, the curls around her face sweet. Her face is heart shaped, her chin sharp but her eyes sharper when she’s not bogged down with the weight of grief. Her eyes are expressive, baring her soul in a way she thinks she hides, but she never can. Not from me.

“Let me help you.” I blurt it out and startle her.

Empire clutches the script to her chest to hide her reaction, but I see it. I know every hitch of her lungs. She bites down on the inside of her cheek before saying, “How long have you been spying on me?”

I drop my briefcase and shrug out of my suit jacket, dropping it over the arm of the couch. “Long enough to hear your abysmal performance.” Parker would change his mind in a second if he heard today’s dialogue.

“Because I’m not feeling the part. Not anymore.” Even her insistence falls flat. “I thought it was me, but it’s not, Marcus.”

“I think if you stop trying to put yourself in a little box, you’ll find you’re more than capable.” If she sees how much this means to me, she might dig in her heels. I’m not willing to take the chance.

Her eyes lift to mine when I stand in front of her. “My capability isn’t really the question, is it?” she asks.

“Run it again and let me see what you’ve got.”

She groans, her head dropping down to the back of the couch. “Look, I’m tired. Let’s order in for dinner and have it delivered. Please.”

I shake my head even as my stomach rumbles.

“We’ll eat after I hear you do this scene,” I reply.

“Why are you such a slave driver?” She glares at me.

“Because it’s my job.” I slide my hands into my pockets. This close, I can see every inch of her pale skin, every freckle and fine golden hair along her forearms. It’s the perfect vantage point if I lift my gaze a little higher to the neckline of her tank top. I refuse to do it. “I guarantee you haven’t had as long a day as I have. Run the scene again and I’ll give you pointers.”

She pauses for a brief second. “I’m never going to be my mother,” she tells me in a whisper. “No matter how much you want me to be.”

“And I’m not asking you to be. Quit stalling.” I swallow over the lump in my throat. “Read the scene again and start from the beginning.”

Empire sighs, stares at me, and finally gets to her feet, unfolding those long legs and balancing on her toes for a second while she stretches and prepares. She stands beside me with the script in one hand, the other shaking loose at her side.

“You weren’t expecting me,” she says in a saucy yet innocent tone.

It takes me a beat to realize I’m supposed to be the very old and very wealthy Mr. Patterson in this scene, and I shift to look at the script Empire holds out for me. “You certainly did take me by surprise. How can I help you, Alicia?”

“Do you mind if I come in?”

“Not at all. My apologies…” I trail off and read the notes out loud. “He steps to the side to allow her entry into the home. Leading her into the living room.” Empire and I don’t move. “May I offer you something to drink?” I continue.

“Whatever you have handy is fine. This is a nice place. I’ve never been inside before.”

She’s paying attention to the script, not to me, and the longer we bounce lines off each other, the more she staples into the role, losing her hesitancy. Alicia takes the offered drink from Mr. Patterson and settles herself on the sofa, her legs seductively wide. Drawing him in. Patting the cushion beside her until the old man sits.

Alicia moves closer.

Mr. Patterson shifts an inch away.

A cat and mouse game until Alicia has had enough and flings herself at him. I’m focused entirely on her words to the point where she shoves me on the couch.

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