Page 6 of Romance Is Dead

“Hey, captain! Catch!” Brent shouted. He pulled back his arm, which was Teddy’s cue to try and stop him.

But instead, Teddy froze—his expression growing more panicked by the second.

He’d forgotten his line.

“Cut!” Natasha popped up from behind the camera, glowering in Teddy’s direction. “Let’s try that again.”

We started over. This time, he remembered to jump in front of the lamp, but still couldn’t remember the words. The next time, he remembered the line but failed to catch the football before it sailed into the hall. I tried to hide my frustration. He might have been a late addition to the cast, but surely he’d had some time to prepare.

“Cut!”

Another take, and yet another line missed.

Again, and again.

“How about we take a break?” Natasha suggested. Her voice was even, but the pounding vein on her forehead suggested she was anything but calm.

When we returned, Brent once again delivered his line, winding his arm back to throw the ball. I held my breath, praying Teddy would finally nail the take.

“No!” Teddy shouted, jumping to his feet to intercept the ball. “Not in the house, there’s priceless antiques in here!”

The air whooshed out of me in relief. He’d got it.

Brent released the football and it sailed across the room, heading straight for the lamp. As Teddy ran backward to catch it, the joy of remembering his line must have wiped everything else from his brain. Instead of stopping on his mark, he kept going. And going.

And then, he crashed right into the lamp. The priceless, twelve-flea-market lamp. It teetered back and forth dramatically, its wide base lurching first to one side and then the other, and a voice called out from somewhere off set.

“I got it!” Trevor the PA hurried over, grabbing for the lamp. But instead of getting a firm grip, he tripped over the base, sending both himself and the lamp careening toward the ground. On his way down, Trevor grappled for anything that could save him. Unfortunately, he only succeeded in pulling Teddy down too. Audrey poked her head around the corner to see what the commotion was, resulting in Trevor hitting her with his flailing arms and knocking several sensors off her special CGI suit.

By the time they all hit the floor, the set was deathly silent—except for the sound of the extremely expensive-looking glass lampshade shattering into a million pieces.

“Cut!” Natasha jumped out from behind the camera, hands braced behind her head. “Are you fucking kidding me, people!” For a moment, it looked like she was going to throttle Teddy, or Trevor, or both. Instead, she just marched off the set in dismay, slamming the front door as she went.

“I am so sorry!” Trevor said to no one in particular, looking at the wreckage in dismay.

Teddy remained where he’d landed on the floor, seemingly in shock.

“My lamp!” The props master, who had apparently stayed to watch the performance of his beloved lamp, charged onto set. He made a beeline straight for Teddy and Trevor, who backed up in fright until he was pressed against the wall.

“You.” He leaned in until he was mere inches from Trevor’s face. “And you.” His glare pivoted to Teddy. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to find that lamp?”

“Um.” Trevor’s voice trembled. “Hopefully not very long?”

“Two months! All for the two of you to break it in two seconds!” Spit spewed from his mouth as he yelled. “This industry is riddled with people like you. You don’t give a damn about anyone else’s time. Selfish. Selfish!”

“I’m so sorry,” Trevor squeaked.

Teddy, meanwhile, said nothing, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands.

The props master straightened his shoulders. “You’re not sorry. But you will be.” Then he too stormed off, out the back door.

After an excruciatingly long moment of awkward eye contact, everyone else started to leave too. Brent murmured a few words to Trevor and Teddy before giving them claps on the shoulders and wandering off. Chloe and Audrey followed shortly after, throwing sympathetic looks behind them as they disappeared around the corner. Trevor looked like he was going to cry as he fled, but Teddy stayed on the floor, not bothering to move.

What a disaster.

I wanted to have empathy, but the irritation that had been building all day instead ignited into anger. Just like I’d predicted, Teddy was inexperienced and unprofessional. Worst-case scenarios ran through my head: production losing money due to filming running long, rumors of discord amongst the cast leaking out, and the movie being doomed before it even hit theaters.

I stalked over to him, the words bursting from my mouth as soon as I got close. “What the hell was that?”

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