There were several sets of double doors. I blundered through them as if they weren’t there, searching for sunlight, for air—
I emerged into the parking lot and grabbed hold of a handrail for stability. In my head, it was another sunny day, and we were standing outside a house. Come on, said Hux. Let’s get this over with.
I was squeezing the handrail so hard I thought it was going to squish like a toothpaste tube. But I couldn’t stop gripping it or I felt I’d just spin away completely into madness, carried away by the anger.
It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know that I’d as good as killed my partner. The anger was all directed inward, at myself.
What were the chances? Out of all the TV shows she could be auditioning for, why did it have to be this one?! What if we somehow wound up working together?! God, that would be unbearable, to be constantly close to her, unable to say anything. I hadn’t been good enough for someone like her even before Hux. Now I knew what a screw up I really was, and the constant outbursts of anger...I couldn’t let her see me like that.
I looked out across the parking lot. The solution was simple: I just had to walk away.
Walk away from being a cop. If I didn’t at least give this TV thing a fair try, there was no way Barnes would let me back in. I had to convince him I could play nice with others again. I had to convince him I was over Hux, even if that could never be true.
What would happen, if I just walked out of the parking lot and went home? I could probably score a job as a security guard, working some mall or some college. But I’d never wear the uniform again. I’d never be out there doing something that mattered.
And I’d never see Jasmine again. It was the first time I’d seen her in a month. I’d put her out of my mind, after Hux died, convinced that the guilt was too overwhelming to let me feel anything else. How dare I still be in love with her? How dare I, after what happened to Hux because of my stupid fucking crush? But as soon as I turned around and saw her, it hit me right in the gut, lighting me up from the inside. That moment spent talking to her had been the first time I’d felt halfway normal since Hux died.
Until she’d asked about him, and the guilt hit me again.
The smart thing to do was leave. I was never going to be with her, never going to even be close to her. The whole screen test was a vivid reminder of exactly what I lacked, full of actors who could take her off to the Hamptons or Malibu and shower her in gifts. Or who at least would connect with her, who could talk about acting and ballet and artistic stuff, things I knew nothing about.
But if I walked away, I’d never be a cop again.
It’s not like you’re going to get a part anyway, I told myself. Certainly not a big one. I knew that they wanted real cops, but they wouldn’t give them anything more than bit parts, surely. Dixon hadn’t mentioned any specific role to me, so maybe I’d just get one scene or something—if I even passed the screen test. Maybe I could just hang around on the periphery, stay out of Jasmine’s way, and do just enough to satisfy Barnes.
I turned and went back inside.
When I slipped in at the back, Dixon was thanking everyone and explaining that he was looking for screen chemistry and personality, and how well we suited our characters. The screen tests would consist of ad-libbed scenes. Ad-libbing? What the hell was that? “We’ll start with the Isabel and Tony roles,” he announced. “Tony tells Isabel he’s in love with her, but she pushes him away because they work together.”
The crowd of actors and cops quieted down as the first pair started their scene: a dark-haired woman in a sweater and a guy who must have been an actor because his hair was way too long for a genuine cop. They had to do some scene in which the guy declared his love for her. I realized after a while that ad-libbing was actor code for make it up as you go along. Why couldn’t they just have said that? The woman was very good and the guy was smooth and slick and sounded professional enough to me, but I could see Dixon subtly shaking his head as he watched him.
“Okay,” said Dixon. “Next pair. We’ll have”—he consulted his notes—”Jasmine and….”
I caught myself leaning forward in expectation. What?! What was I doing? I didn’t want it to be me! God, imagine trying to act a scene with Jasmine! The idea of me acting at all was ridiculous, but me acting next to her, a professional, while trying not to let on that I was crazy about her?
Dixon said a name and it wasn’t mine. I relaxed. And tried not to admit that there was a tiny thread of disappointment mixed in with the relief.
The guy—an actor, at a guess—was right in front of me in the crowd, standing in a group of guys who all seemed to know each other. He started to step forward, but then a camera operator shouted a warning and Dixon had to run over to talk about some technical glitch. “One second,” he told Jasmine and the guy. “Be right with you.”
Jasmine had already walked out into the center of the set and nodded patiently. The guy she’d be doing the scene with stayed where he was, as if he couldn’t be bothered to take to the stage until everything was ready for him. He was a couple of years older than me. Good looking, I guess, in a hard, wolfish sort of a way, and he was wearing a watch that looked like it cost as much as my car. Well, fine. That’s the sort of guy she should be working with.
People began to murmur and whisper as they waited for things to get going again. I stood there and stewed, feeling completely out of place. Even the other cops seemed more at home amongst the actors than I did. These would be the ones who’d leapt at the chance to be on TV, the ones who’d always had a secret thing for acting. Maybe they weren’t in the same league as Jasmine, with her acting training and her sights set on Hollywood, but they were at least amateurs who dreamed of the big time. Me? I wasn’t even playing the same sport.
This is nuts, I thought. I should just walk out right now.
And quit, said Hux in my head. And not be a cop anymore.
I took a deep breath and stood my ground. I’d just get through it. I’d watch Jasmine’s audition and then eventually they’d give me my humiliating thirty seconds in the spotlight and then—
One advantage of not talking much is that I’m a good listener. I can focus on just one thread of conversation in the midst of a crowd. And right then, I became aware that the actor in front of me, Jasmine’s intended partner, was talking to his buddy.
“I’ll put money down,” he was whispering, staring right at Jasmine. “A hundred bucks says there’s a bedroom scene in the first episode. Look at the tits on her. They only hired her as eye candy.”
“First season, maybe,” said his buddy.
“First episode,” the actor insisted. “They gotta get the ratings. I’m going to get to tap that on screen, and then afterwards…”
“You hope,” said his buddy.
“No, I know. She’s new, man. Probably her first big break. She’ll be all wide-eyed and desperate. I tell her I know the right people and I give her a few lines of coke so she feels all indebted to me and bam. I’ll have her doing shit they don’t even do in porn.”
They fist-bumped.
The anger started to rise inside me. He was going to use her. Use her and then toss her away, just because he could.
She’s not yours, I told myself. You don’t get to decide who she sleeps with. I’d always known she was too good for me. I’d always known she’d wind up with someone rich or famous or both, someone who moved in her circles. But this?! This guy was a prick.
“Okay,” said Dixon, clapping his hands together. “Let’s do this.”
With one last smirk at his buddies, the actor stepped forward. I felt my fists bunch. The anger was boiling and raging now. He was going to get the part and then sleaze his way into her bed and then—
I couldn’t let it happen to her. Not Jasmine. But there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.
…
No. There was one.
Chapter 12
Jasmine
A few minutes earlier
; Dixon was talking but I could only half focus on what he was saying. I was still thinking about Ryan and his reaction to me mentioning Hux. The pit of my stomach had turned to freezing lead. I had to find him, as soon as this was over. Find him, and pray I was wrong.
I caught Francesca glancing at me and gave her a reassuring smile. Ad-libbing at least meant we didn’t have to speed-learn lines, but it also meant that I had no idea how it was going to go. Then Dixon said that we’d be starting with the Isabel and Tony roles—my role.
And then he called Francesca’s name. Just as I’d suspected, we were up for the same part.
I saw Francesca’s face go pale. It looked for a second as if she was going to freeze there. I pushed through the crowd, grabbed her hand, and squeezed it. “Knock ‘em dead,” I whispered in her ear.
She gave me a rabbit-in-the-headlights frozen grin and I gave her a gentle push forward. As she walked on trembling legs out in front of the cameras, I tried to imagine what it would be like, to have your very first TV audition be this crazy, ad-libbed scenario with an audience of other actors watching. I was nervous, and I’d done plenty of these, even if they’d only been for tiny parts.
As her scene started, my stomach went tight. A little voice inside me told me that this was ridiculous. She was up for the same part I was. I should be wanting her to mess up.
But I didn’t. I liked Francesca. Maybe because she was just straightforward and honest, the opposite of me. I suspected her background wasn’t much different to mine, but she didn’t have to lie about it like I did. She didn’t live in fear of her past—and her dad—catching up to her. She could tell the truth to all her friends and not feel like a complete fraud the entire time.
I wanted her to get the part. I stood there like a mother at a gymnastics gala, holding her breath as her daughter tumbled and flipped along the beam. Every pause in Francesca’s scene made me tense up—would she hesitate too long, grope for words in her head and come up with nothing?
But she was good. Nervous at first, but she rapidly warmed up. I could see that she was in the zone, the point where you stop acting and start being the character.
Her partner couldn’t match her. He wasn’t bad, and was actually kind of hot, with long dark hair and dark eyes—he had sort of a Mediterranean playboy thing going on. But I couldn’t buy him as a cop at all. He was smooth when he should have been gruff, and he used too many words when he should have just done it with a look. From Dixon’s expression, he seemed to think the same. But he was nodding thoughtfully as Francesca walked off. Did that mean she’d got the part?
“Okay,” said Dixon. “Next pair. We’ll have”—he consulted his notes—”Jasmine and….”
I barely heard my partner’s name because hearing Jasmine had made my heart rate double. I pushed quickly through the crowd and out in front of the cameras before I could freeze up myself.
Then a camera failed and Dixon ran over to talk to the operator. I was left standing there in the middle of the studio with everyone watching me. My partner—good looking, nice wide shoulders, but I could tell he loved himself, was vaguely familiar. The sort of actor who always winds up playing the buddy, never the hero. He was whispering away to his friends, totally relaxed. Come out here and stand with me! I thought desperately. But he seemed to be in no hurry.
I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, sizing up the competition. The lights were blinding, melting away every shadow, illuminating every inch of me. They say the camera adds ten pounds. What it really does is show you unfeelingly, without any of the tricks and flattery and feel-good mantras we use to get through the day. I could feel the nerves rising in me. The actors and cops and crew were all staring at me. Every woman I glanced at seemed to be stick thin, probably wondering what the hell I was doing there with my curves and my red hair—
Auburn, it’s auburn. Think Jasmine.
I can’t act, I can’t act, I’m a fraud, and it’s going to come out right now, recorded forever—
“Okay,” said Dixon. He clapped his hands together. “Let’s do this.”
The guy I was partnered with sauntered forward—the one who’d play my love interest for the whole series, if we both got the parts. And revealed behind him was Ryan. I hadn’t seen him come back in. My heart lifted—I could talk to him after I’d done my scene, take him off somewhere quiet and apologize and ask about Hux—
Oh God.
Ryan was staring right at me, his eyes locked on mine. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even look away. I knew I needed to be looking at my partner, but suddenly that wasn’t even an option.
And then Ryan was walking toward me.
Dixon looked confused. “Uh—” he started.
Ryan marched straight past him, his sheer physical size allowing no arguments.
The actor I was partnered with was still swaggering toward me, finishing right up close—too close. He smiled an animal smile and I saw his eyes flick to my breasts.
Ryan slapped one massive hand on the guy’s shoulder and pulled him away from me. The actor’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish’s. “What? What are you—?”
“You’re not good enough for her,” Ryan told him, his voice low and dangerous.
The blood was thundering in my ears, drowning out the worried hubbub of the crowd. What the hell was he doing?!
“Uh—” said Dixon. “Can we just stick to—?”
“Back off!” snarled Ryan, and Dixon wilted in the face of his anger. God, he was completely out of control! All that bottled-up rage I’d seen in his eyes was coming out. And the spark that had set him off was...me. You’re not good enough for her.
My heart melted.
Ryan moved in close to me, closer even than the actor had done. But the feeling was completely different. With the actor, I’d felt myself tense as he breached my personal space. With Ryan, I wanted to lean in and drag him closer, feel that solid wall of muscle against my softness. I wanted to plaster myself to him until there wasn’t a molecule of air between us. I could feel that I was panting, my mouth hanging open in shock, my face upturned to him. Somewhere far away, the sane part of my brain was screaming at me, telling me to snap out of it. To ask Ryan what the hell he thought he was doing. To get back to the scene.
“What—” I said. “What are you—?”
“I want you,” he said.
The world stopped.
“I’ve wanted you since last winter,” he said. “When I saw you in the alley. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Had he just said what I thought he’d said? I’d known that he liked me, but—No! No, no no! God, I can’t! Not Ryan! I’d led him on, allowing myself my stupid, stupid Ryan Moments and now he was telling me how he felt.
And if he did that, there was a real danger I was going to tell him how I felt.
I took a shuddering breath as I felt his hand against my cheek, his warm palm cradling it. His fingers stroked softly through my hair. “I need you,” he said. “I have to have you.”
I swallowed. “We—We can’t,” I said. I was no longer acting. I’d forgotten about the lights and the cameras and the people watching. All I cared about was him, this gorgeous, strong man who was laying himself bare for me. Who thought I was a real person and not just an illusion. I had to stop him, or I’d break his heart. “I can’t be with you,” I managed.
His other hand was coming closer and God it was on my waist, tendrils of fire spreading through me from every touch of his fingers. That hand felt like the most solid, trustworthy thing I’d ever felt in my life, like it would stay there even if everything else slipped away. I wanted to nestle into it and never break contact again. Somewhere, distantly, was the thought that this is your big break and it’s being destroyed. But even that didn’t seem important, right then.
“I don’t care,” he said. His face was coming closer, that gorgeous, full lower lip so kiss ably soft, his jaw set with such determination that it looked like rock. “I have
to tell you how I feel.”
“I—” I looked up at him with huge eyes and now my hand was rising and stroking his cheek, feeling the roughness of the stubble there, gazing up into those crystal blue pools that seemed to strip away every layer of protection I had. I could feel Jasmine splintering and shattering, could feel him staring straight down into the black depths of Emma. And while that should have felt terrifying, with him, just for an instant, it felt...right. “I—” I wanted to say, I do want to be with you, because I did—more than anything else in the world. But the room seemed to be spinning, my brain overloading. I just stared up at him, unable to speak, and we were both silent for a second.
Footsteps brought me back to reality. I turned and saw Dixon and that’s when it hit me—I’d just blown the biggest audition of my life. My throat closed up. I looked between Ryan and Dixon, feeling as if I was going to faint—
“Fantastic!” breathed Dixon.
“...what?” I whispered.
“That was so natural! So perfect!” He punched Ryan on the arm. “Holy shit, you knocked that out of the park, big guy! I love the way you pushed the other guy out of the way. And that thing about seeing her in an alley! Perfect!” He ran his hands through his hair. “Okay. Okay, let me process this. This is a big change.” He looked at Ryan. “I mean, I’d only been thinking of you for a bit part, just to add some extra grit, you know? But….” He shook his head, grinning. “We have got to get you two together.” He clapped his hands together. “It’s crackling and buzzing, you know?”
“What?” It felt as if there were two realities, fighting against one another. The one in which Ryan had just declared his feelings...and Dixon’s reality. “What?” I said again.
Dixon looked at me as if I was stupid. “You’ve got the part,” he said. “Both of you. Slam dunk.” He rubbed his chin. “Actually, this solves a few things. You two can pair up for training.” He grinned at Ryan. “You can show her all the cop stuff. She can give you pointers on acting. Although, let’s be honest, I don’t think you need many. That was amazing!” He looked across at the actor who’d meant to have been testing with me and winced in sympathy. “Sorry, pal. I gotta call it as I see it.”
Acting Brave (Fenbrook Academy #3 - New Adult Romance) Page 8
