Page 3 of Fated Moons
These stupid dinners and their stupid traditions made Amanda want to pull her hair out.
The song “Lookin’ Out My Back Door”by Creedence Clearwater Revival blasted from her cell phone just as the second course was being served. She cringed.
Her father dropped his fork in his lap. “All phones are supposed to be turned off.” He wiped the corners of his mouth with his cloth napkin and glared at her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s one dinner once a month. I don’t think it’s too much to ask.”
Sometimes, her family could be so stuck up and other times insanely down-to-earth.
“Sorry, but my agent is supposed to call about that part today.” She bent over, digging through her purse, ignoring the evil stares of everyone, including the staff standing off to the sides. The Windsors didn’t have such elaborate dinners on a daily basis, complete with their staff waiting for them to ring a bell or snap their fingers, demanding, though ever so politely, to have another cup of tea poured. However, as part of the Royal Coven of the Silver Flock, they would follow tradition once a month to satisfy their royal whatever. She still wasn’t sure why they did it. It wasn’t like the media was called to watch and report to the masses on what the royals wore or ate.
“You could have put it on vibrate, hiding it in your back pocket,” her older sister, Arianna, said with a sarcastic tone and an arched brow. In her youth, Arianna had been more into her princess lady status and enjoyed the courtship of a dozen or soworthy suitors, until one broke her heart, leaving her cynical about love and life.
Of all the sisters, Arianna resented their status the most.
But not enough to ignore the monthly dinners.
“I’m wearing leggings, so I have no pockets.” She glanced at the caller ID. “It’s my agent. I’ve got to take this.” She jumped from the table, knocking over her younger sister’s water.
“Oh my God.” Avery snagged her napkin, dabbing up the water before it flowed over the edge of the table and onto her lap. “That was so unnecessary.”
Avery was the baby of the family and a bit of a prima donna, and as the principal ballerina in the local ballet, the two seemed to go hand in hand.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” Amanda said as she hurried from the dining room, both her parents glaring at her while all three of her sisters complained about her breaking the family rule, one that none of them saw any value in other than the entire family being together. They didn’t need a stupid, stuffy dinner to do that.
Amanda ignored them and tapped the accept button on her phone as she entered her father’s office. If she didn’t get this part, everyone would think she didn’t have what it took to be a serious actress. Even her sister, Arianna, the art journalist, believed the press would have a field day, considering they constantly labeled Amanda as a spoiled royal who bought her way into the industry.
It wasn’t true, but her father had pulled some strings, and his actions hurt her reputation from the beginning.
Acting could be somewhat subjective, and outside of her roles in soap operas and television, she’d been mostly cast in supporting roles in romantic comedies. She’d never had the chance to show off her real talent.
“Hi, Reana.” Amanda took in a slow breath, sitting behind her father’s large oak desk. His office looked more like a living room with its leather sofa and love seat, his desk looking out of place as if it were plunked down in the middle of the room without care for style and taste. Colorful artwork he’d bought from various new artist showings lined the walls. “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t call today.”
She stared at the picture of her and her sisters taken as small children. Each was blessed with a different talent. Growing up, they’d been accused of using their witchcraft to acquire such unique gifts. But that hadn’t been true. They worked hard to hone the strengths they’d been born with.
Alicia had the voice of an angel. Instead of speaking her first words, she sang them, and she was well on her way to making it big as a country singer.
Avery had their mother’s grace and style and instead of stumbling as most children tend to do while learning to walk, she danced her way through toddlerhood. By the time she reached three, everyone knew she’d be a star.
Amanda and Arianna’s talents were more subjective and constantly scrutinized by the world. Arianna had started out wanting to be a painter. But that got tossed to the side when her heart had been broken. Now, she used her other talent. She had her father’s gift for weaving words, though her father was a novelist, not a journalist. To this day, Arianna and Amanda struggled for equal respect as their non-royalty counterparts.
No matter how good Amanda’s performance had been in any movie or TV show, the critics always viewed her as average, at best. They never focused on what she did well, only how she faltered.
“Are you sitting down?” Reana had been Amanda’s agent for the last five years. They had developed a plan to get her to this exact moment. All the roles she’d taken thus far were steppingstones, leading to the one film that would catapult her into megastar status.
Remington Fallswas that movie. Filled with action, romance, drama, heartache, and a moral dilemma, it had it all. It was the kind of movie that people would talk about twenty years from now. Amanda had been lucky to get a reading, but getting the second and third callback, that, she had to believe, was based on her talent.
“I can’t tell if that means you have good news or bad,” Amanda said.
“I have both.”
Amanda swallowed. “Give me the bad news first.” Might as well get the disappointment over with. It wouldn’t be the first time she was passed over for the lead and offered a smaller role in a film.
“You weren’t their first choice. Heidi Boyet and Nelly Gratma were both offered a contract but passed.”
Amanda’s heart hammered in her chest like a scared rabbit. “I got the part?” She pushed aside the fact that two of the highest-paid actresses walked away from the role. There were many reasons why an actress would say no to a great part. Money. The other actors or actresses cast in the film. The director. Other jobs they were committed to. Finances. Whatever their reasons, she didn’t care. Not at this point.
“The part is yours if you want it.”
“Hell, yes, I want it.” Her last movie wrapped three months ago, and she had nothing on her plate. She didn’t need the money.
