Page 11 of Royal Crush

“Are you lost?”

I jumped half a foot when I realized I wasn’t alone, then spun to see a man leaning against the wall. He had a pretty face, sharp jawline, and tiny, arrogant smirk.

I realized I knew him. Well, I didn’tknowhim. I knewofhim.

Eamon Beckett. The veteran actor who got his start a few years before I did. He was portraying the king, so the man would be my father. I was pretty sure he was only ten or fifteen yearsolder than me, but the man had been sporting salt-and-pepper locks since he was in his twenties.

He looked amazing with them, of course.

If I knew I had a shot, I might invite him into a prop room later on, but that was just me trying to cope in the most unhealthy way possible, and I didn’t think my therapist would approve.

“Hello? Did you hear me? Do you need medical help?” His voice was patronizing but did have a nice rumble to it, which took some of the edge off the fact that he didn’t recognize me.

Clearing my throat, I tried my best to sound like I belonged. Because I did, damn it. “I’m here for the table read.”

His nose wrinkled. “Extras don’t attend table readings.” Extras? Did he seriously not know who I was? I couldn’t tell if he was fucking with me or not, and my ears flushed so hot I was worried they were steaming.

I cleared my throat and squared my shoulders. “Yeah, I know that. I’m not an extra. I’m Aleric King.”

His eyes went wide. “You?”

I felt the urge to wrap my arms around my body and sink into the floor. He looked at me with such disbelief and…fuck, disgust? Was I already the set pariah?

The curse?

“You’reAleric King?” he repeated.

“Last time I checked.” I tried for a smile, but it felt more like a grimace.

His expression shifted from shocked to disdain. He looked me up and down. “You probably should wait until after we clock out to start hitting your vape. You really shouldn’t show up to a table read blazed out of your mind.”

“I’m not,” I started. I wasn’t high. I didn’t get high. I was so fucking tired of that assumption. My insides were flushed so hot it felt like I was about to spontaneously combust. I knew I wasn’tgoing to escape the addict reputation, but goddamn. I wasn’t expecting this kind of judgment from my colleagues, who most definitely had shown up to work on a cocktail of whatever drugs were trending in the nineties. “I’m sober.”

He snorted. “Sure, man. Whatever. The reading’s through that door. Do you want some coffee before we start? You look like you could use it.” I could tell he wasn’t offering to be nice.

I shook my head anyway. If I had another milligram of caffeine, my heart was going to beat straight out of my chest. “I’m good. See you in a few.” I turned and didn’t look back as I pushed through the door he’d pointed at and came to the large room with six tables set up in a square.

It kind of looked like a college classroom, definitely different than other shoots I’d been on, but I hadn’t worked since before streaming took over. I was so out of my depth. It didn’t help that all eyes were on me either.

I scanned the room, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the prince sitting at the end of the table next to an empty chair I assumed was mine. He was very obviously not meeting my gaze, and I was pretty sure everyone in the room noticed. Was he actually supposed to be here? I didn’t think he was meant to be at table reads.

“Uh. Morning, everyone.” I tried for friendly, but I was pretty sure it didn’t come out that way. I sounded like a strangled tree frog.

There was a collective murmur. I saw Amanza in the corner of the room, texting furiously. She looked up, her expression annoyed, and jutted her chin at the chair next to Prince Camillo. Right. I felt like the new kid in one of those back-to-school nightmares where you show up naked in the middle of a test you didn’t study for.

I ran my hand down the front of my shirt just to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating clothes.

My shoes made an obnoxious click on the tiled floors, and the chair gave a vicious squeak as I pulled it back. Camillo winced and rolled his eyes, turning his body away from me.

Wonderful. This was a fantastic start.

I cleared my throat, pulled the script close to me, and scanned the title:

“Episode One: Love’s Labors Lost”

What a weird name. I’d been given the script several weeks ago, but I could already see a bunch of changes had been made since then. They’d photocopied them all with the writer’s editing notes in all the margins and lines crossed out.

“Did you get this version or the one before the edits?” I asked, leaning over toward the prince.

---