“You’re telling me.”
“Remember, babe—you’re the star of the movie. Don’t let him steamroll you.”
“But he’s the director,” I say, massaging my temples. “I’m trying not to rock the boat. It’s my first action movie, and I’m his first female lead.”
“You’re not rocking the boat by speaking up for a character you’re passionate about!”
“Cleo, if I don’t nail this, no one will take me seriously as an actress, and I’ll be pushing thirty as a forgotten pretty girl with no work, no prospects, and I’ll be—”
“Well, now you’re just quotingPride and Prejudice.”
I laugh with a snort, then wince. “Please don’t make me laugh—my abs are already killing me from training. I’m discovering muscles I didn’t even know existed.”
“Tell me more. Has your trainer given your ass BBL status yet?”
“Not yet, but Nick is…interesting. Yesterday, in the middle of shadowboxing, he told me to ‘man up.’”
Slumping deeper into my chair, I take another sip of my nutritionist’s mandatory kale juice. The afternoon sun filters through my mama’s lace curtains, a touch of New Orleans. I focus on the Post-it notes lining my vanity mirror:Be perfect. Be flawless.
I repeat the words in my head like a mantra, willing them to settle into my bones, to push out the self-doubt that creeps in with every one of Felix’s exasperated sighs.
Cleo groans. “He didn’t.”
“It’s fine, part of the new gig, I guess. The most important thing is that I’m getting stronger, even if the basic exercises are starting to feel like torture. At least we’re moving to prop weapons next week. Any advice?”
Cleo and I have come a long way since our Bright Light Network days. Back then, we were two tween girls playing sisters inThe Sweet Life of Kiara and Bella, sharing scenes and sneaking snacks between takes. I was the adorable, clumsyone, while Cleo was the tough-talking rebel, already showing glimpses of the powerhouse actress she’d become.
These days, Cleo plays a complex, gritty detective on TV, and I’m still cast as the sweet, clumsy character in one role or another.
“Hold your weapon as if you’ve got your fingers wrapped around a big, vulnerable—”
“Cleo!” I screech, feeling my cheeks flush bright red.
“What?” she says innocently. “I was just going to say cock!”
My best friend’s brazen humor never fails to send me into fits of laughter. “What did I say about making me laugh?”
“Alright, Reese’s Pieces, I’ll behave,” she sighs dramatically. “But I don’t think you need to stress over the weapons. You juggled flaming batons in that talent show during season two.”
“I was fourteen.”
“And you still didn’t set anyone on fire. That’s a win.”
“You’re right. Plus, for the first act, Robyn’s supposed to be learning anyway, so my awkwardness will make it realistic.”
Hopefully.
Cleo pauses. “Did you tell anyone about your fear of water? Have you thought about using the double they offered?”
My neck tenses.
I saw the raft scene when I got the script. Robyn and her crew steal from the king’s boats, get caught, and fight off guards. I lose my sword and have to jump into the water to retrieve a new one. I’ve had nightmares about it for weeks.
I inhale a deep breath.
“No, but I have a plan,” I lie. “The casting director specifically requested an actress who can do their own stunts. I’m not going to have them bend the rules to accommodate me. Besides, real leading ladies don’t use stunt doubles.”
“Grit is great, but one scene doesn’t make or break the movie. You can’t overcome decades of fear in a month.”
