She glares at me again, and isn’t it fucking perfect? Especially when it’s less of a glare and more of the kind of look that would send lesser men running. Not me.
“If you’d bothered to show up for introductions this morning…”
I grin. Christ, she’s magnificent.
“My sincerest apologies. Though I’ve found that timing, like everything else in life, is an art form. The best moments tend to be unscripted.”
“Some of us actually value professionalism over performance.” She flips through her script, marking pages with pink Post-its.
“An Olympic gold tends to speak for itself in the professional department, wouldn’t you say?” The moment it leaves my lips, I recognize the desperation in it. Like a teenager showing off his varsity jacket. Pathetic, really. I haven’t needed to prove myself to anyone in years.
Her lips curve into something caught between a smile and a weapon. “Fascinating,” she says. “Is that why Tokyo had to make do without your…particular brand of professionalism this year?”
The air rushes out of my lungs. For a dangerous second, I want to confess everything. The fight. The SafeSport decision. The USFA’s pending disciplinary review. The shattered dreams that still wake me at all hours of the night. “I—”
“Precisely,” she says in a clipped tone, a clear instruction to back off. “Now, Mr. Hastings, since we’ve all been waiting on your arrival, perhaps we could redirect that famous focus of yours to something productive?”
Her words should deter me, but instead I want to press for another reaction.
“Alright!” Felix shouts. “If you two are finished, shall we begin?”
“Ready, Felix.” Reese brightens and turns her gaze to Felix, her hand twitching up like an eager student before she catches herself and lowers it.
“Let’s dive in,” a young man beside Felix, probably a head writer, announces.
The table read starts from the beginning of the script and moves devastatingly slowly. Reese is the biggest star on set. Next to her sits Omar Reeve, playing Foxborough’s king, and then Robyn’s sidekick, Elizabeth Brando, who’s only ever been an extra in television dramas. They all breeze confidently through their lines while I find myself increasingly conscious of my limited acting experience.
Theater at Princeton feels distant now—those small roles squeezed between fencing competitions. The reality of film production looms large, and my hangover isn’t helping.
They hired me for my blade work, of course. The acting is merely an extension of the Hastings brand—another performance, another stage.
I settle my gaze back on Reese. She’s amazing, like watching the sunrise—knowing you should look away, but you can’t.
Simon nudges me. “You’re up next. Act one, scene three.”
I flip to the scene where the sheriff of Foxborough makes his grand entrance. Todd, who read the script before signing me on, said the role would be perfect for me. It would give me extra media coverage that being a mere stunt coordinator wouldn’t.
“Hey, Sheriff,” Reese says, and I falter.
“Dante?” Simon whispers beside me.
“Your line is,” Reese prompts through gritted teeth, “‘The common folk show such spirit.’”
Fuck. I look down at my script. The familiar panic rises as letters dance and blur, a childhood nightmare revisited. My brain scrambles for purchase but finds none.
I stammer, “The common folk show such spirit. But slowly…surely?” Heat creeps up my back. “No, surely you understand, taxes are the crown’s…crows?” Damn it. I know the words, but as soon as I open my mouth, my tongue stumbles. “No, the crown’s divine…divide? No—divine right.”
The heavy silence in the room speaks volumes. I laugh, too sharp, too quick. “My copy is all smudged.”
“Sure it is. Have everything memorized for the shoot or don’t bother showing up,” Felix spits, like Coach Lev does when I tell him I wasn’t drinking the night before training. “Let’s move on. We have the fight scene—sheriff wounded but alive. Robyn escapes to the forest with Merrick.”
I grasp at fragments, improvising poorly. “Find that thief. Tell Foxborough her head’s worth gold.”
“Fox-burr-o,” Reese corrects, leaning close enough that her breath ghosts my ear. God, she’s giving valedictorian energy.
“Robyn, let’s go,” Elizabeth, playing Merrick, shouts.
“Sheriff, I won’t let you down,” Simon says.
