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I hated him, but mostly because he wasn’t lying. Itwasthe best-case scenario. It was a big deal for someone to take a risk on me. I would have had better luck if I’d been some kind of monstrous sexual predator. Those guys got cinema redemption arcs.
But I was a kid with bad habits and a public meltdown that was captured on camera.
I’d always be the “crazy one” to so many people.
“I don’t want an on-set babysitter.”
“And Prince Camillo wants the portrayal of his life to be as realistic as possible since we can’t give him his first request.”
I couldn’t help but wonder why they hadn’t given the role to a disabled guy, but I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t want to put ideas in their heads. This was going to be my fucking Emmy, goddamn it. My golden statue moment. I was going to play up every moment of pain, anguish, triumph, joy, and anger I could.
I would have people sobbing and angrily live-blogging every time an episode landed on a cliffhanger. I was going to have people thanking me for doing such a good job. I was going to fix myself and everything around me with this goddamn part.
If I had to have a babysitter, so be it.
I wouldn’t be happy about it. I could already feel asshole oozing out of my pores. I’d make the poor bastard hate me with every fiber of their being, but in the end, they’d see I was also best for the role.
They’d see I was born for this.
“Alright,” Amanza said, pushing over a tablet. “I just need you to sign on the highlighted lines, and then we’ll see you next week for the table read.”
“Will the babysitter be there?”
She gave me a flat look. “No. You’ll meet him the following Tuesday when we begin set rehearsals.”
I clenched my jaw but nodded. At least I’d have time to charm my coworkers before the babysitter arrived. Then maybe I’d have some people on my side. Hopefully. If I was lucky. Not that I was rich in that, but hey, a guy could hope.
I scribbled my signature where she needed it, then set the tablet down and stood up, giving Chaz a look. “If I don’t get out of here for a smoke in the next ten minutes, I may start crying.”
“Go,” he told me. His voice sounded rough from not speaking for the entire duration of the meeting. God, what was I paying this dickhead for?
Still, being dismissed felt great. I walked through Amanza’s office door, breezed past reception, and didn’t even look over atthe people in the elevator as I made my way down. Soon enough, I was in fresh air.
The building was one of those neo-modern whatever architectural designs that were popping up all over the city. Big white walls with too many windows and weirdly shaped stairs. The only thing I liked was the courtyard. It was surrounded by crepe myrtle and several fountains with benches. Some of the fountains had metal cups that made sounds when water poured through them.
They reminded me a little of singing bowls.
I had a therapist who did that too, for a few years. I’d hated her at first, and then I’d come to love her. And when she closed my case, I felt both alone and abandoned because she was the first person who’d convinced me that I could do this again.
That I could find who I was—the person I’d lost to the monsters that tried to destroy me. But I wasn’t sure I could do it on my own.
I closed my eyes, finally lighting up, and I took a deep drag. The stinging burn reminded me that I really did need to quit, but I had to keep one vice for this little while. I couldn’t give up everything that made me feel like I could breathe properly—even if they were also destroying my lungs.
“There’s no smoking in the courtyard.” The voice was pinched, annoyed, a deep rumble that I kind of loved, even if it made me want to open my eyes and punch them in the face. And it was also a little familiar.
I sat forward and glanced to my left. “Why don’t you go—oh.” I was going to tell them to go fuck themselves, but I couldn’t.
Not when the fucking second-born prince of Caverna was sitting in his very sporty wheelchair three feet away from me.
I took another drag.
“Did you hear me?” He lifted his hands, and I realized a second later he was repeating himself in sign language. For asecond, I thought he was being a sarcastic asshole, but then I realized he was probably the only human on the planet who would learn another language to make sure he could scold total strangers about smoking.
God, what adick.
“I did hear you, and I’m choosing to ignore you. Call the cops if it’s that important.” I took another slow drag and blew the smoke upward in a huge cloud.
He stared for another long beat. I wondered if he knew me. If he knew that in a few weeks, I would be in front of a camera trying to be him. God, I shouldn’t waste this opportunity. I figured I’d meet the guy during press once or twice, but here he was, an arm’s length away from me, in person.