Page 2 of Coronation
She slows to a stop, and a worried pinch appears between her brows as she gets her first proper look at me. “You want to talk about it?”
My shoulders drop as the storm of emotions I was trying so hard to keep at bay comes roaring in. Wordlessly, I bob my head up and down, and a choked little cry escapes when she wraps her arm around my shoulder, guiding me through the row of cast trailers. If we pass anyone, I don’t notice, too busy staring at the ground with tears streaming down my face.
Finally, when the door to my trailer has closed behind me, I slump onto the fake leather couch. This isn’t the torrent of emotions I was expecting, but the demoralized exhaustion is somehow worse. I’m only twenty-five years old, my career is just ramping up, but right now, I feel ready for retirement.
Davina perches herself at the other end of the couch, tucking her feet up beside her, and peers over at me, her big brown eyes filled with obvious concern. “What happened, Z?”
I sniff, reaching over to snag a tissue from the box on the coffee table. “It’s really embarrassing,” I admit miserably.
My friend purses her lips. “I don’t judge, you know that.”
Yeah, I do know that. Davina Lovette is not only wildly talented, beautiful, and an object of intense obsession by every casting director in SoCal, but also a true girl’s girl. We met on the set of a project two years ago and hit it off immediately. She isn’t the kind of friend I talk to every day.Sometimes we go months without getting together, caught up in our own hectic schedules, but whenever we manage to squeeze each other in, it’s like no time has passed. I was so excited when I learned she’d been cast inThe Dark House, too, and I’m especially grateful for it now.
Now, she waits patiently as I play with the terry cloth material of my robe, trying to summon the courage to recount the events of this afternoon. “I totally bombed that scene,” I admit at last, a hollow ache spreading outward from the center of my chest. “The one where Wendy is touching herself in bed, and Bradley is watching through the mirror?”
Davina frowns. “What do you mean, you bombed it?”
“I was all… stiff. Nothing I was doing felt natural, and George was giving me all these directions, and it only made me more embarrassed that I couldn’t get it right. The scene was only supposed to take like thirty minutes to shoot, and—God. It was so awful, Davina. I don’t know how I’m going to look him in the eye again. He totally thinks I’m some kind of repressed weirdo who hates her body or something.”
Outside, the beeping of a truck moving in reverse sounds in the distance.
“Do you?”
Distracted, I blink. “Do I what?”
“Hate your body.”
My heart sinks as I consider the question. “No, nothing like that. It’s just that sex has always been kind of… it’s been okay.” Quite possibly the lamest words to ever emerge from my mouth. After all, it’s pretty clear I’m in the minority here, when most of the adult human population dedicates such an inordinate amount of time to having it. Then, there’s the way my last relationship ended, which adds a whole other layer of self-doubt and insecurity.
Davina doesn’t laugh at me, though. Instead, she seems toconsider this, her expression thoughtful. “Is that something you’ve explored at all? Your kinks?”
She says it like she’s positive I have them. Hell, maybe I do, but I wasn’t exactly comfortable enough with my few lackluster boyfriends to figure it out.
The tears, which had only just stopped, start right back up again. “This is so embarrassing, I’m so sorry,” I blubber, using the tissue clutched in my hand to wipe my eyes hurriedly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Z,” says Davina impatiently, waving away my apology. “You just had a super shitty day, and the men you’ve dated are the actual worst. On the bright side, I may have a solution, if you decide that kick-starting your mid-twenties kinky hot girl era is something you’re interested in.”
I blink, so taken off guard by this pronouncement that I sit up straighter, the onslaught of new tears coming to an abrupt end. “What do you mean?”
Davina’s face splits in a mischievous smile. “There’s this thing I go to, when I’m in Europe, and it happens to be scheduled for tonight.”
Oh, boy. Davina’s reputation as a wild child is mostly exaggerated, but she certainly goes looking for adventure a lot more than I do. The last time we worked together, we were in Mexico City, and she attempted to bring me along for a “spiritual awakening” retreat in the desert, which involved taking an unspecified combination of hallucinogenic drugs.
I cross my arms, sinking back into the sofa. “What kind of thing?”
As if she knows exactly what I’m thinking, Davina laughs. “A sex thing, sweet Zelda. A very exclusive, very secret sex thing. Let’s say, a gathering of people who like to fuck, but due to their position, can’t exactly walk into a bar to meet someone.”
My cheeks are prickling with heat, but despite my better judgement, she officially has my attention. “Like, an orgy?”
It’s not a good sign that even saying the word feels naughty. As if I, a successful, modern woman and a self-proclaimed feminist, shouldn’t even know what such a thing is, never mind speak such a scandalous word aloud.
“Sometimes,” Davina confirms vaguely, apparently delighted that I’m interested in her scheme. “It depends on the night, to be honest, and who was invited. The vibe is always a little different.”
I’m trying to appear calm and unruffled, mature, despite what she’s telling me, but it’s kind of an uphill battle. Sex parties amongst the rich and famous can’t be that unusual, but this is certainly the first time I’ve been invited to one. There’s no denying that for someone who grew up in Hollywood, my father’s position meant my upbringing was unusually sheltered. Nobody wanted to piss off Owen Flowers by wronging his little girl.
Taking this role—with the accompanying scene I bombed today—was a big move for me. At the time I signed the contracts, I was fresh off a horrific breakup and felt brave for stepping out of my comfort zone. After this, it seems the only thing my big, courageous career move has done is make me feel worse about myself. Drastic measures need to be taken.
“How does it work, exactly?” I question Davina carefully, and my friend’s lips curve in a knowing smirk.
