Chapter 10

Sasha

“You look smart, and you sound smart,” Alberta tells me, looking at me with one arched eyebrow, “but you definitely aren't that smart. You’re just pretending to be someone you’re not.” She has her hands on her hips, and she’s tapping her foot against the floor. Even though the glare of the lights is somewhat hampering my focus, I trust all the hard work and preparation I did and fire my lines right back at her.

“Well, what can I say? You got me,” I laugh, throwing my hands up in the air as if she’s pointing a gun at me. “Seriously, what the hell are you talking about?” I continue, dropping my mocking tone and defiantly staring her down. Taking one step toward her, I try to calm myself as I feel my heart hammering against my chest. “You don’t know a damn thing about me…”

“I know enough. I’ve dealt with people like you all my life,” she replies, lowering her voice and spitting out the words slowly. Even though we’re just acting, I can’t help but feel that this feels real. Too real. And after what happened during our table read, I’m slowly starting to realize that Laurel’s right; Alberta feels threatened by my presence. But what the hell is she afraid about? She’s been part of the main cast ever since the show started, and I doubt any producer would kill her off and risk pissing off the whole fan base.

“I don’t know what you want of me,” I continue, my heart beating so fast that I’m starting to feel dizzy. Shaking my head, I then look away from her and start walking toward the window, pretending that I’m looking out into the distance, the New York City skyline rising in the distance. In truth, I’m just staring at the green screen on the other side of the window; the pretty scenery will come later, courtesy of the CGI department.

“I want you gone,” Alberta says, balling her hands into fists. Her words are dripping venom, and for a moment I forget that I’m shooting a scene. I just want to run toward her, grab her by the arms and shake her until she tells me why the hell am I already on her wrong side. This is my first day on set, for God’s sake!

“Gone? I’ve just gotten here,” I reply as I turn to her. Trying to put on a strong expression, I then walk toward her and lower my voice. “And I’m not leaving. This party’s just getting started,” I continue, leaning in and whispering my final line into her ear. Then, with a slight smirk, I walk toward the door and walk out of the set.

“CUT!” The assistant director cries out, and I look at him with an anxious expression. There’s a grin on his face, and so I feel relief washing over me. I want to do well, and I definitely get very antsy when someone criticizes my performance. Luckily, that hasn’t happened at all ever since I started shooting my scenes. Aside from Alberta, everyone seems pleased with the performances I’ve been putting on.

“That went well, right?” I ask Alberta, turning to her and putting on a smile. Even though I really don’t feel like talking to her, I guess I have to try. After all, I can’t afford to turn one of the most important actresses on the show into my enemy. Just play nice, Sasha, I encourage myself.

She doesn’t even bother to reply; she just walks past me in a hurry, hitting me with her shoulder as she does it. I stand there for a moment, following her with my gaze, but then I just breathe out. If she doesn’t like me, that’s her problem; I’m doing the best I can.

“Alberta,” I call after her. She freezes up and looks back at me over her shoulder, an expression of annoyance on her face. Closing the distance between us, I try to push my fears to the back of my mind. “I don’t know why you don’t like me,” I start, feeling more nervous than I’ve ever felt before,” but I’m not here to fight you. I’m just here to do my job. So, please; just focus on your job, and I’ll focus on mine.”

Without giving her enough time to reply, I just shrug and walk out of the set, heading down the corridor that leads to my dressing room. I stop the moment I’m in front of the door, staring at the sheet of paper with my name on it, and I smile to myself. Then, as I reach for the handle, a thought crashes into my mind and I hesitate.

Pursing my lips, I then turn around on my heels and walk a few doors down, my heart almost ready to explode as I stare at the door that leads into Kane’s dressing room. After what happened between the two of us, it’s been hell to focus. It might be stupid (and definitely very premature) of me to say it, but there’s something in this whole situation that goes beyond the physical. And, somehow, I know that’s part of the reason Alberta doesn’t like me. But so what? Manhattan Reign might be my big break, and I can’t ruin it just because of a stupid crush.

And so here I am, standing in front of Kane’s dressing room; after all, sooner or later I’ll have to face him. And, the way I see it, it’s better I do it right now. After all, I don’t want things to be awkward between the two of us; I’ve heard enough horror stories about actresses that ruined their careers by sleeping around, and I sure as hell don’t want to be one of them.

Looking from side to side, making sure that there’s no one around, I then rap my knuckles against the door and take a deep breath.

“Yeah? Come in,” I hear Kane say from inside the room and, with my heart feeling like a hand-grenade, I open up the door and step inside his dressing room. It’s much larger than my own, and definitely more luxurious, but that’s to be expected...After all, Kane’s playing the main character in the show.

“Sasha?” He says, arching one eyebrow as he looks at me. Judging by the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting to see me. There’s a glass of wine in his hand (and an open bottle on the desk in front of him), and I realize that he’s done for the day. “Do you want to go over tomorrow’s script?”

“I...Uh…” I stammer, not knowing what to say. The scene we’re shooting tomorrow is a sex scene, and so I’m not exactly sure of what he means by going over tomorrow’s script. I think we had enough practice as it is. “No, I just wanted to say something…”

“What?” He asks me, and the tension in his voice immediately lets me know that he’s already expecting the next words that’ll come out of my mouth.

“What happened between us...It can’t happen again,” I tell him, resisting against the urge to punch myself in the face. Am I really telling the most handsome man I’ve ever met that I don’t want to have sex with him? Being rejected hurts, but rejecting someone isn’t supposed to feel this bad.

“Fuck, I…” He starts, lowering his gaze. “I know. It won’t happen again.”

When he raises his gaze, our eyes lock and we say the same words.

“No more sex.”