Page 2 of Between the Lines

“Everybodywould think that,” I countered, giving him a pointed look as I passed by his vehicle. My eyes went wide when he moved like he was opening his door. “P!” I hissed, rolling my eyes when he sat back, laughing.

I flipped him off then snatched the earbud out, tapping the side to end the call.

“You’re annoying!” I called, not knowing if he could even hear it as I breezed through the front doors of the massive WAWG building. My first stop was through security, and then it was up the elevator, which I prayerfully got to ride up alone.

A few last solitary moments to get my head together.

Before I walked into a room filled withactualstars.

Alec Everett.

Vanessa Kirkland.

Show written by Charlotte Fox.

And that was only a fraction of the notable names attached to this project—one with a huge budget and lots of studio support, which meant lots of pressure. For everybody.

My quiet moment to reflect ended as soon as the elevators doors opened.

The halls were lined with people—assistants, security, staff. There was a holding area just outside where the table read was happening, and it was clearly where everyone who wasnotan actor was gathered. The smell coming from the craft services’ breakfast buffet made my stomach twist in knots—not because it was bad, but because I was on the verge of actually having that panic attack Pierre had teased me about.

I got plenty of warm greetings from faces ranging from vaguely familiar to complete strangers as I navigated the room to get to where I needed to be. I had to get through one more armed security guard—a thorough, but professional pat-down and a reference of my name and face against something on his tablet screen.

And then I was in.

A markedly different vibe from what was happening outside—it was quiet in here, filled with way more plants than expected. The lights overhead were somewhat dimmed, with table-level lighting that was much brighter so everyone could see their scripts.

There were stationary cameras set up, and one camera operator with the oversized device propped on his shoulder, testing angles.

It wasn’t unusual for a table read to be recorded, but the aesthetic of it all meant this was beingfilmedand would more than likely be used as promotional material, winding up on social media.

Suddenly, my minimal makeup, athleisure, and high ponytail didn’t seem polished enough.

But I was here now, and there wasn’t much—meaning, nothing—I could do about my appearance.

“Elodie—glad you could join us,” I heard as I glanced around the room looking for my name to mark my place at the table, being careful not to make eye contact with anyone yet. I needed to gather my bearings before I could call on my deep well of “bad bitch” confidence.

I followed the sound of the voice to averyfamiliar face—Charlotte Fox, the creator of the show.

Had I already met her at the audition?

Yes.

Did that make me any less nervous to stand in front of her again?

Absolutely not.

Still, I smiled as she approached me with open arms, pulling me into a quick hug.

“Am I late?” I asked her in a low voice, resisting the urge to check my watch. As a general rule, I liked to arrive at everything fifteen or twenty minutes early, but thatglad you could join usfelt a lot likewe were waiting on you.

“Huh? No,” she assured, shaking her head. “Everybody isn’t even here yet, but they should be in a few. Wedidhave to do some scrambling with the cast, but we think it’ll be fine.”

“Scrambling?” I asked, eyes wide, and she nodded.

“Yeah—Daniel had a conflict, and Alec’s agent found out that role was open, so he asked to move there. Honestly,” she whispered, moving in, “I think Alec’s peopleinventeda conflict for Daniel so he’dhaveto pull out and leave that role open, but who knows?—”

“Charlotte, you got a second before we start?”

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