Page 40 of Fool's Gold

We all think the same thing.

I don’t deserve this part. I’m inexperienced and strange compared to their practiced ease. Even my lines don’t feel right as I run through them. Once the director calls action, I launch ahead too fast for them to follow and choke on my words.

Every second of this is torture.

Will it ever get easier to handle?

Will I ever feel comfortable in my skin around these people? Things have changed so much since I used to haunt the sets. Being in front of the camera turns me into this troublesome and confused person who needs to rehearse for years before anyone starts filming. It’s time we don’t have to waste.

“Cut. Let’s start from the top,” Belinda calls out after I fudge my last line. “Empire, is something wrong?”

I shake my head and blow out a careful breath, mouth rounding. “No, everything is fine.” I gnaw on my lower lip because, damn it, but I don’t remember the next line at all.

It’s fallen through some kind of black hole in my brain and disappeared.

I shift my weight from foot to foot.

“Do you need to go over things?” Belinda asks gently.

One of the girls snickers, and I glance over at her sharply. “No, I’m fine,” I reply.

The actress pointedly shifts her head around to avoid meeting my gaze. Shit, if I’m not perfect on this next take, if I don’t get this right, then things are only going to get worse.

I’ve got a strange tick in my veins that doesn’t belong.

“Actually, give me a minute.” Marcus cuts in smoothly. He’s a predator crossing the set toward me, everyone else moving out of his way, although I catch several sets of sighs from the extras at my back.

I swallow hard, my mouth desert dry, and I can’t pry my eyes away from him.

His fingers curl on my forearm, and he yanks me off the X.

“We need to talk.”

He found a way to get to me and make it look coincidental. There’s no way I can refuse now without coming off like a prima donna. Spoiled brat.

Marcus pulls me aside but doesn’t drop his hands. He’s got them on me, and now he’s afraid of what will happen if he breaks contact. He tugs me around to the back of the set where the others won’t hear us.

“I’m not the only one who needs to get myself together. You’re acting like you’re a step away from falling apart. It’s not like you.” He glares at me, through me, gripping me hard. “Sell this part. We’ve got no choice.”

“I’m trying,” I insist, back to sniffling. “I’m doing the best I can. I’m clearly not the best person for this part. I have no idea how many times I have to tell you the same thing before you believe me.”

“Which is why you need to work harder than the rest of them to prove it to yourself. We don’t have the luxury of recasting at this point. Get your shit together, learn your lines, and deliver them like you are Alicia.”

He punctuates the demand with another growl. We really are the wolf and the bunny. I’ve never felt so weak or helpless.

“This is what you’re being paid for.”

I wrench my arm away from him, and he lets me. No sense making another scene for everyone to gossip about. They’re already tiptoeing around him.

They’ll watch us like we’re the show instead.

“Scolding me is going to make me feel worse about everything,” I hiss back. “You want me to do my best? Then back off. Stop looming over me. People are talking about us.”

His smile tells me exactly what he’s thinking about, but I’m not sticking around to listen to the rest of his lecture.

The rest of the day is smoother, but not by much. Tomorrow has to be better because this is what experience looks like. Every hour I spend under the lights, in front of the camera, hones me into a better actress.

The starlet the press claimed me to be.

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