Page 1 of Quiver

Chapter One

Kye Manchester still had one foot on Forty-Sixth Street when a pair of well-manicured hands caught her by the lapels of her black coat and hauled her through the glass doors of a building much like all the others.

“Thank God you made it.” Mimi Levy gave her a quick once-over, then sighed before pulling her roughly toward the elevator. “They’re about done, and you’re my last hope.”

The news probably should’ve rankled, but Kye didn’t harbor any illusions about being Mimi’s top prospect for anything these days. Honestly, she appreciated getting a call, even last minute, though the time crunch hadn’t given her anything close to the preparation time she would’ve liked.

“Did you get a chance to glance at the script?” Mimi asked as she pushed the button for the sixteenth floor.

“I saw enough to know I want the part.” The statement might’ve undersold her true feelings. She’d been drawn to the project from the moment she’d read the details. Then after delving deeper into the actual script, she’d almost wept at the sheer artistry of it all. She fought to keep her hopes in check. A person could allow the sharp stabs of rejection to sink them only so low before it began to change them irreparably. Still, if she were the kind of woman who allowed herself to pine for anything, this movie would top the list.

“Good girl.” Mimi patted her shoulder. “Your auburn hair and age certainly match the physical description of what they’re looking for, but I honestly don’t know if anyone will get the part today. Rumor has it the producer mandated a major talent search, but Sophia LeBlanc wants an unknown or an upstart or something.”

“Or something,” Kye mumbled. Always unquantifiable. She couldn’t begrudge anyone such criteria, as it was what had allowed her to make her name in the business, but it didn’t sting any less to know some people saw her decade of hard work, experience, and sacrifice as a detriment.

“She’s in the room along with the writer,” Mimi said, almost as an afterthought.

Kye’s feet faltered as the elevator doors opened. “Sophia LeBlanc and Talia Stamos are both here?”

Mimi pulled her into a sparse reception area. “Seems redundant to me. Why hire a casting director, then watch over them the entire time? But you know how she micromanages her projects.”

She shook her head. She hadn’t known. She hadn’t been given the opportunity to work with a director of Sophia LeBlanc’s stature for quite some time. No wonder every detail of the script was flawless. Kye had dreamt of projects like this from the moment she got into the business, and she’d been green enough to believe that after her first success, chances like these would be thrown at her with predictable regularity.

Now she knew better.

“I haven’t gotten a great sense of what’s happening in there,” Mimi said, “but from the snippets I’ve overheard, they’ve already written off the world’s brightest stars for being too polished, too prim, or too proper. I also worry they don’t want an American at all.”

“Makes sense. The last thing they want on a woman warrior film is someone who looks like a princess on a show pony.”

“Then don’t be that.” Mimi clutched her arm tightly. “Go in there and fight. Show them you’ve got battle scenes in you, because they have a quick hook, and I’m sure I don’t have to remind you, your own clock is ticking down, too.”

She nodded and took a deep steadying breath as a door across the small room opened. A woman shuffled out, head down. Clearly her audition hadn’t gone well, and Kye’s own heart ached at the signs of dejection. There’d been a time when she may’ve tried to smile at a fellow actress, or at least offer some sense of camaraderie, now all she could do was try to hold her own fears at bay. A subtle sort of desperation had been rising in her throat like bile for years, but she forced it down now, just like she always did. There was no room for insecurity or weakness in this business.

A spritely young woman popped out of the room holding a clipboard. “Ms. Manchester?”

“I’m here.”

“They’re ready for you.”

Mimi gave her arm a squeeze. “Break a leg.”

She’d didn’t roll her eyes at the cliché even though a part of her had grown weary of hearing it. At this point she’d take every bit of good luck she could get.

She stepped inside the room, pleasantly surprised to see a full wall of windows overlooking Midtown Manhattan, so even though the space wasn’t big enough to hold more than a handful of people, the natural light helped combat the claustrophobia she often associated with screen tests.

She stepped in front of a neutral backdrop and looked straight into the camera set on a tripod mere feet away. “Good afternoon. I’m Kye Manchester.”

“Have you had a chance to review the script?” a man sitting behind the camera asked without offering any introduction of himself or anyone else in the room, though she supposed the two women sitting against the back wall didn’t need any introduction in this business.

“Only a few hours ago, but I’m confident in my ability to run the opening scene.”

“Proceed when you’re ready.”

She took a deep breath in through her nose, then held it as she closed her eyes, shutting out her current surroundings from her senses until she stood atop a rock crag overlooking an English valley. Releasing the breath through parted lips, she took up the lines she’d committed to memory until they flooded the studio.

Springing to life, she paced in a small circle as she recounted the situation, not as an actress conveying information to the others in the room, but as a budding queen, newly widowed, staring down both an approaching army of enemies and a small circle of close advisors, all of them expressing doubts in her ability to lead.

She didn’t grab hold of the part so much as it caught hold of her, scraping along her vocal cords and wrenching the muscles in her shoulders. Reciting lines from memory, her heart pulsed a steadily increasing tempo as she roused her own sense of self, willing it to fill the space between her and her advisors in ways her stature could not. The speech was as much for her sake as anyone’s, and it reverberated through her core.