Page 16 of The Fake Script
Auston
Emma sitting next to me, sipping her coffee while giving me notes for improvement. It’s like no time has passed at all. Except she’s no longer the colorful, sassy girl I used to know. These days, she’s more fifty shades of black. Not just her outfit, but also the melancholy I see in her eyes.
“Are you sure this change is necessary?” I ask for the third time. Even if I’m all for tweaking the script, I know Clarence will have my neck for requesting this many revisions.
“It is.” She tilts her head to the side. “Fans will notice these things. But it’s just a suggestion. You don’t have to take it.”
“Okay. This is actually from the scene we’re shooting today. Should we try the new dialogue?”
She crosses her long legs and leans back in the recliner. “Go ahead.”
As I stand up, I realize I’ve never in my entire life felt this anxious about performing. I don’t even think I was this nervous during my first audition.
I clear my throat. “This is not going to work out, Sarah,” I rasp, trying to get into character, but Emma’s already shaking her head.
My eyebrows furrow. “What’s wrong?”
She fixes me in a glare. “What’s right? Diego has a very distinctive way of speaking. If you’d actually read the book, or my notes for that matter, you’d know that,” she says, tapping the script. “Plus, you don’t have the right posture. Diego should be more confident, aloof even. He’s kind of a villain at the beginning of the story.”
“Uh.” Two seconds rehearsing with her, and I’m already hit with impostor syndrome. What is going on? “Okay. Let’s try again.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m drooping with exhaustion. Emma Sterling doesn’t pull any punches. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever received this much criticism on my acting skills. Just when I was getting tired of everyone telling me how amazing I am. Be careful what you wish for, I guess. Well, at least she didn’t sigh or roll her eyes on that last try.
Before I can recite the line again, someone knocks at my trailer, and I’m relieved to take a break. When I swing the door open, a frown etches onto my face.
“Hey, you,” Madison says, batting her eyelashes.
“Madison, what’s up?” I ask, drumming my fingers on the trailer door. “Are we being called out?”
“No, not yet. I just wanted to see you. Didn’t sleep much last night. You know how I hate sleeping alone.”
“Right. Um, I’m busy rehearsing right now, so I’ll see you on set, okay?”
Her smile falls. “But, Au—”
I close the door before she can finish. “Sorry about that,” I say, turning back to Emma. “Where were we? Ah, yes. I was finally getting your stamp of approval on my deep Diego Loma voice.”
She rolls her eyes, her lips twitching at the corners. I wish it would turn into a full-blown smile. I have yet to see her beautiful smile since meeting her again. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Auston.”
I raise an eyebrow, trying to hide the fact that Emma saying my name just sent my heart on a bungee jump. “Auston?”
A slight flush touches her cheeks. “That is your name, right? Or is it a stage name?”
And with that, my heart crashes to the floor. Just when I think she might remember me, all my hope shatters. “It’s my real name,” I mutter, looking down at the script.
“Okay. What’s the problem, then? Do you want me to call you Mr. Buckley or something? I’ve never been a very formal person.” She draws the edge of her bottom lip between her teeth, and just like when we were in high school, I yearn to close the space between us and kiss her.
“Auston’s fine.” I nod, daring to meet her mesmerizing eyes. For a second, I feel like they’re trying to tell me something, but then I clear my head. There’s nothing there. It’s all in my mind.
“Okay. Well, let’s get cracking.” She claps her hands. “We don’t have all day.”
That draws a chuckle out of me. It’s been a while since anyone has spoken to me that way. “Got somewhere to be? I thought your store was closed.”
“It is. And I don’t. But you have a lot of work to do, and the call sheet behind you says you’re shooting the first scene of the day in half an hour. Also, I need coffee—real coffee. This stuff is disgusting.”
“So bossy, just like—”In high school. That’s what I was going to say, but I catch myself just in time.
Her head flinches back slightly. “Like what?”