“Play it cool,” I remind myself as I pretend to be busy reading from my laptop. Sandra has gone out to look for the cast, and a few minutes later, the door opens and Brad saunters in. My nose recognizes his aftershave, distinct yet subtle.

I briefly glance at him, smile, and return to reading. My heart is bucking in my chest like a wild bronco. Take deep breaths, I think, but I steal the occasional glimpse of Brad.

How I would like to be doing something else right now, other than sitting through a reading with our director and three actors.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he says casually and sits to my left.

I pretend to only just notice him now.

“Hi, Brad. How’re you today?” I am pleased with how casual I sound. There isn’t a hint of a quiver in my voice.

“Party started already, huh?” Scott has come in without me noticing it.

I reach for my coffee and take a sip. This is going to be an interesting reading.

Since my romp with Brad and Scott the other day, I haven’t been in the same room as the two of them.

“Where’s Ian?” Scott breaks the silence first.

“We don’t’ need him,” quips Brad. “A threesome is much more cozy, don’t you think?” He shoots a meaningful glance in my direction.

I notice Scott narrowing his eyes and leaning back on his chair, his lips a thin line. Have they been fighting?

Ah, and the tingling between my legs has me on edge. Perhaps I should ask for a jug of ice-cold water to be brought in.

“Who says Kayla would be interested in you?” Scott is quick with a comeback.

Brad shrugs.

“Dude, you gotta go on a limb to get ahead in life.”

Scott’s eyebrow raise to a perfect arch.

“A limb? Looks like you’ve’ gone out on a twig, my friend.”

My nerve endings are on fire. I’m trying to search for something to say to diffuse the tense situation.

“You learned your lines?” is all I manage to say. Not very imaginative, but at least both of them are looking at me now.

With each of their gazes on me, I feel heat spread through me, together with electric shock waves, as if I’ve stuck my finger in a light socket.

“For our next blow job,” Brad starts, Scott coughs, and I’m not sure what to say. “Sorry. I mean for our next con job, I suggest we target the jewelry place.”

I see Brad grin from ear to ear. He seems to be enjoying himself. He oozes relaxation.

Scott leans back in his chair, glancing at Brad sideways. His lips curl into a little smile.

“I thought we’d agree not to go after the diamonds but focus on the one gem.”

It is my turn for my brows to furrow. I flick through my notes on the computer. I’m pretty sure I didn’t write those lines.

“Ah, yes. Previous plans. The trouble with previous plans is, they are too predictable.” Brad doesn’t miss a beat.

“Now the gem. The gem is worth going after.”

Open-mouthed, I watch the wordplay between the two of them, and I’m not sure what script they’re reading from.

“You started without me?”

I didn’t notice Ian come in, followed closely by Derrick, our director. Both sit down. Derrick pulls out some papers from his bag and spreads them out in front of him.

Ian crosses his arms in front of his chest.

He’s not bad-looking—it’s just the opposite, actually. Pronounced jaw, deep voice, and piercing…not to mention the sleek haircut. But he isn’t like Brad or Scott.

While the other two exude confidence, their energy a raw and manly one, Ian seems…off. I don’t know what it is, but he doesn’t strike me as the manly type.

All that would be alright if he could act, but Ian is a complete disaster.

Neither Brad nor Scott acknowledge Ian.

“Hi, Ian,” I greet the actor and nod at Derrick. “Ignore them, they’re just—”

“Comparing the size of their dicks,” completes Ian, and for a second silence descends over the room. Thankfully, I register there are no heavy objects any of them can pick up and use as a weapon.

“Kayla.” Derrick sits directly opposite from me. “Everyone’s got your next scenes, I assume?” The director, like me, has chosen to ignore Ian’s outburst.

Clearing my throat, I nod. Part of me wants to laugh, and the other wants to end the reading and hide in my office.

“Let’s take it from the top,” I say and look at Ian.

His expression is blank, and he makes no attempt at doing anything other than glare at each of us in turn.

Scott leans toward him and whispers something I cannot understand.

“I’m bored,” mumbles Ian, and I frown. I scroll to the correct spot on the script.

“And I think we should come up with something fresh.” I add for him, feeding him his line.

The man is driving me insane. He never seems to know his lines. And when he does deliver them, he lacks any kind of conviction or passion for his role.

Mental note to self: reduce Ian’s dialogue for future scenes. He may be off-limits, but I can make sure he takes a considerable backward step.

“Fresh, you say,” Scott butts in. “I think I can help with fresh.”

“You don’t know how fresh,” Brad adds, even though I’m sure it’s not his turn.

What are they up to?

“Like I said before.” Brad moves his head in Ian’s direction. “Before he came in.”

“What are you guys doing?” Ian cuts Brad off.

Scott chuckles.

“Antiques—we need to start dealing in antiques,” Brad continues without paying any attention to Ian.

“I’d rather deal with a fresh young thing.” Scott winks at me as he speaks.

“I’m tired of being—” Ian stumbles over the word being and stops.

“Ian.” I’m getting pissed off. “It’s not that hard—I’m tired of being the actor in your heist. I want to be more involved.”

I scowl at him, reading his lines from the script. The Kings is a TV show about three brothers planning a heist, not a goddamn Shakespearean play! What’s so hard about getting these lines down?

“Just keep up with the other two, would you?” My patience is running on super low today.

“If your writing wasn’t so extraordinarily bad, I wouldn’t have any trouble remembering or speaking them.”

At his words, I grip the arms of my chair. How dare the little shit insult my writing. And that smug look on his face is enough to want to make me hit him.

“Stooping to insults isn’t going to make you look better,” I say in the calmest voice I can muster.

Inwardly, a storm is brewing. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s arrogant pricks like Ian. People who stuff up and blame someone else for their mistakes really rub me up the wrong way.

“Hey, man.” Brad turns to Ian. “That’s uncalled for”

Ian glares at Brad.

“What’s it to you, Brad?” Ian emphasizes Brad as if it has four a’s and not one.

“There’s nothing wrong with Kayla’s writing,” Scott adds and smiles.

“My, my,” Ian sneers. “Two blokes drooling over Kayla. How does it feel, Kayla?” His voice is by now dripping with sarcasm.

I’m trying to think on my feet.

“Let’s just stick to the lines and say them properly.” I inject authority into my voice. My eyes search for support from Derrick, but he’s not much help.

“I would if those two wouldn’t clown around, comparing the sizes of their dicks to impress you,” Ian says, pointing at Scott and Brad.

The man is now starting to trample on my nerves, and I’m more determined than ever to kill him off, off-limits or not.

“Look, Ian.” I get out of my chair. “It’s always you who stuffs up his lines. You hardly ever remember them properly. And when you do remember them, you say them more like a zombie than a professional actor. My lunch delivery guy could do a better job than you.”

Ian is pushing his chair back, and it falls to the ground with a loud thud.

His face is redder than a tomato.

“How dare you.” His voice is barely under control. “How dare you, you bitch in heat, treat me like this?”

At his words, I feel a little heat rise to my cheeks. Who does he think he is to speak to me like this?

“She’s right, you know?” Scott now puts his two cents’ worth in as well, and Ian becomes even redder.

“You’ll be sorry, Kayla.” Ian is now shouting. “You’ll be sorry when I tell Ed.”

I watch him storm out of the room. His words perturb me only a little.

Someone is clearing their throat. It’s Derrick.

“How about we take our lunch break a little earlier today.” He glances at his watch before he adds, “Reconvene at 3p.m.”

When the door shuts, I busy myself with my laptop.

Apart from the ticking of the clock, there’s not a sound in the room.

Eventually, I look at my two remaining leads.

“Good job today,” I say and smile. I mean it. I’m not sure what the hell they were doing with all that improvisation, but I enjoyed it.

Brad grins and looks at Scott.

“Yeah, thanks, but I think we could’ve done better.”

“No, the two of you work well together. You make a good team.”

They exchange what looks like a conspiratorial glance. Butterflies multiply in the pit of my stomach. What are they planning?

“Your writing helps,” Scott says, and I know I’m blushing a little.

“You don’t have to say that.”

“No.” Brad is quick to jump in. “He’s right. Your writing is fantastic. It’s not your fault Ian is a jerk and is useless at what he does.”

I shut my laptop and look from one to the other.

“Teamwork is important, and you two are team players. I appreciate that.”

Go with the flow, I hear Angela’s voice inside my heads.