CHAPTER 6
REID
Emma Pierce is the fourth of five callbacks. In an attempt to be professional, I’ve focused on each of the three before her while we were running scenes, but all day I’m crackling with energy, humming with it, waiting for her.
When Daria shows her in, I feel as though I’ve been plugged into a socket. I study the sides though I could recite all of my lines and hers, delaying the moment when our eyes meet, knowing it will trigger a power surge between us when we speak the lines. We’re doing the same scene we did two days ago, but this time there will be no interruption from Richter.
He calls us to our places and she turns away, a shadow of confusion on her face, but ready. Richter calls action, and as I touch her shoulder, she turns to me, scowling, perfectly in character, and I wish we were filming on set right now because this will be as good as it gets. We run through the lines as though we’ve rehearsed this scene a dozen times, and when she says the last line, “What?” I grip her shoulders per the script direction and kiss her.
I know when I touch her that my hold on her isn’t going to be right and will seem antagonistic, but I’m following script direction. We’ll have to redo it, but that’s fine. The chemistry is undeniable. She sways a bit when I release her, the green in her gray eyes sparking. She feels it, too.
“Cut.” Richter is out of his chair, his lips pursed in thought. One hand taps against the side of his leg as he stares at us. He didn’t budge from his seated position during the last three callbacks. “Too aggressive, I think, Reid.” More lip-pursing and thigh-tapping. “Let’s go again from the beginning. More passion, less dominance on the kiss.” He’s letting me guide the scene physically—precisely how I work best. “Emma, a little more reaction—you’re starting to respond just before he pulls away.”
As the cameras are realigned, I smile down at her, whispering, “Don’t worry.”
She smiles back, still nervous, which is fine. All she has to do is follow my lead, which she’s doing flawlessly so far. This time, I pull her towards me, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other sliding down her arm, tugging her forward onto her toes, unbalancing her so that she leans into me as I kiss her. Hands curled into my chest, she’s a perfect illustration of Lizbeth Bennet’s surrender to Will Darcy’s passion.
“Excellent, spot on,” Richter says. He rubs his hands together.
Hell, yeah.
Daria shows Emma to the exit after we run another couple of scenes and Richter tells her he’ll be in touch. She nods and thanks him, glancing at me. My relaxed expression gives nothing away, but there’s no doubt in my mind—she’s Lizbeth.
*** *** ***
Emma
When I come home from the gym a week after the audition, my father and Chloe are popping a bottle of champagne. “You got the part!” he says as Chloe squeals and offers me a glass. I’ve been chosen to play Lizbeth Bennet in School Pride. The financial details were settled for more than I’ve earned in the past several years combined. Filming will start in mid-August, on location in Austin.
Dazed by the news, the salary, and the thought of working with Reid Alexander for three solid months, I do what any other girl would do. I grab my phone and text my best friend. Emily is at choir practice, but I’m hoping the threat of choir director ire won’t keep her from answering.
Me: I GOT IT
Em: OHMYGOD!!!
Me: I know! Holy SHIT.
Em: I have never been jealous of you before, but OMG REID ALEXANDER!?!!!!
Me: I’ll call you after the champagne celebration and chloe’s dance of glee. UGH.
Em: Ignore her. This is about YOU <3
Me: Will try, idk if ignoring her is possible, you have no idea.
Em: Oh trust me, i have an idea.
***
“I guess we might not be able to do this forever, huh?” Emily says, glancing around the mall food court, the straw of her smoothie never leaving her mouth. It’s late July. In less than a month, I’ll be departing for Austin to film my first wide-release movie.
“What, go out in public?” I recall the paparazzi-mobbed celeb I’d watched from the hotel restaurant in LA. “I don’t think I’ll be that well-known.”
“Well, we don’t know how famous you’ll be, do we? Don’t forget,” she leans closer and lowers her voice, “you’ll be kissing Reid Alexander, making you the object of loathing and hate mail for half the preteen girls from here to Canada.”
Any time I think of that kiss, I still feel it. What I said about hot guys not being the best kissers? Scratch. That.
“Crap.”
“Totally. Except the kissing Reid Alexander part.” Emily leers, waggling her eyebrows.
“Em,” I shake my head, “you have a one-track mind.”
“Whatev, babe. I’ve tried to warn you regarding the underbelly of the lives of the rich and famous—it isn’t pretty. Drugs, drinking, accidental porn…” She slurps the last of her smoothie.
“Emily, you know I don’t—okay wait, what the hell is accidental porn?”
“You know, the kind where you have no idea your innocently lascivious weekend was filmed through a teeny camera in the ceiling, until it’s too late and people are downloading it off the Internet like, well, online porn.” She swirls a fry through the pool of ketchup we’re sharing.
“Innocently lascivious?” I’m not sure if I should be insulted or jealous of this version of myself that Emily is painting.
“Hey, I’m not judging your sex life here, I’m just saying it like it is.”
“Emily Watson, you know better than anyone that I don’t have a sex life.”
“Hollywood changes things like that. It’s like a giant vortex of hedonism.” Clearly, Emily needs a break from her SAT prep books.
“And you’re the expert on all things Hollywood.”
“Duh. I read the Globe, Sun, Star and of course The National Enquirer. The facts are all there. It’s a seamy little business you’ve gotten yourself into.” Emily has inherited the online form of her mother’s inability to pass a juicy tabloid cover in the grocery line without buying it. On many occasions we’ve grabbed stacks of them on the way to the pool, where we challenge each other to unearth the wackiest story.
“I wish I could take you with me,” I tell her, meaning it. “You keep me sane.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll just have to keep doing it from afar. One of us is obligated to actually attend high school, while the other stars in a movie in which she attends high school. Irony. Gotta love it.”