Page 44 of Marisol Acts the Part
“Can you tell us anything about the part you’ll be playing?”
The voices pile on top of each other as the cameras flash, clouding my vision with dark spots and stars. I keep my smile in place as I carefully step down the carpet, every movement carefully choreographed to appear camera-ready each step of the way.
“It’s going to be a great season,” I tease a nearby reporter. “That’s all I can say.”
I’m nearly to the end of the carpet, where a doorway leadsto the screening room, when the cameras’ attention shifts, some of them continuing to call out questions to me while the others focus on getting shots of the newcomer. Jamila steps hesitantly into the spotlight, holding the pose we practiced. It’s a little stiff, but what matters is her smile. Soft and effortless, made that much brighter by the sequins on her dress catching the light of the camera flashes. I don’t need to see the photos splashed across the internet to know she’s stunning. And soon, the world will know it too.
I’m frozen in place, watching proudly as she approaches the flock of reporters, ready to sneak a candid of her for her mom, when her foot catches on a snag in the carpet. Time slows as her ankle wobbles, unsteady in her new heels, and she starts to careen to the side. Without thinking, I dash as quickly as I can toward her. I loop my arm around her waist, yanking her up and pulling her against my side in a motion so fluid I honestly didn’t think I had it in me.
“Be nice to her, it’s her first red carpet,” I say to the crowd, which rewards me with a smattering of chuckles as Jamila leans heavily against me, her cheek practically pressed against mine. She holds on to my arm tight enough to bruise, but I don’t so much as wince.
“How’re you so good at this?” Jamila whispers, her breath warm against my skin, as she finally steadies herself in her heels, tugging down the hem of her dress.
“It gets easier,” I whisper back, an echo of our conversation about surviving life in the city, but, this time, I’m the expert.
The clicks and flashes pick up speed as we turn to face the crowd together, pressed flush against each other despite Jamila regaining her balance.
“Let’s get a group shot of theLimitkids!” one photographer shouts.
My brow furrows as someone steps toward us. I’m wracking my brain for any mentions of Miles or Dawn coming to this premiere when Eli Rowan steps up beside me.
Eli freaking Rowan.
Eli is as effortlessly cool in person as they are on TV, in interviews, and on magazine covers. Their brown hair has been cut into a shaggy mullet, a style that I absolutely hate but manages to be extremely chic on them. They pull off a pair of slim black sunglasses as they casually wrap their arm around me, clad in a denim jacket with patches from different countries plastered across the back and sleeves.
“Perfect!” the photographer praises, and I have to physically shake myself off to snap back to reality and go back into posing mode. Jamila seems as starstruck as I am, sneaking glances at Eli in between rounds of flashes.
“Thanks, everyone,” Eli says to the crowd, giving a slight bow before heading off toward the screening room.
Quickly, Jamila and I do the same, waving to the crowd and thanking them for their time before following after Eli.
“You both on season two?” Eli asks as we step into the screening room, rocket ship–shaped tubs of popcorn and neon-purple slushies laid out across the table along with our seating assignments. Eli asks this so casually you’d think we’ve known each for years instead of meeting for the first time a few seconds ago.
“Yeah,” I reply for both of us while Jamila nods numbly, clearly stuck in “Oh my God, a real celebrity” mode. Been there. Two years ago, Zendaya had to pick my jaw up off the floor.
“Good luck,” Eli says with a humorless chuckle as they help themself to one of the rocket ship popcorns. “Rune is a dick.”
It’s not until I feel Jamila stiffening against my hand that I realize I never let go of her waist. I shove my hands under my armpits, trying not to linger on the chill that settles over me once we’re apart.
“He’s definitely eccentric,” I say diplomatically, not sure how much I should say somewhere this public.
Eli nods, chewing on some popcorn. “DM me if he’s ever being an ass to you. He can’t keep getting away with treating his employees like shit,” they say before sauntering off to find their seat in the crowded theater.
I’m not able to process that Eli Rowan casually told me to DM them, both because the production assistants start ushering us toward our seats, and because I suddenly see Delia’s constant checking in on me in a new light. Does she know something I don’t about Rune not being the best to his cast and crew? Was working with him what she was trying to talk me out of instead of doubting my abilities? Did she tell Mom as my manager?
“The screening will begin in five!” an assistant beside us shouts, and the crowd moves so quickly I almost lose sight of Jamila.
“C’mon,” she says, slipping her hand in mine and tugging me toward our seats.
As our fingers link together, warm and slightly sweaty, I forget about Rune andThe Limitand everything Eli said. For a few blissful moments, I get to focus on Jamila, her smile, and the way her hand fits so perfectly in mine.
Chapter 15
“Who ate the last banana?!” Rune shouts first thing on set Wednesday morning. He’s never been the “Hello, how are you?” type, but this is the third time this week he’s greeted us with some kind of accusation. Yesterday, it was aimed at Esther for not having his favorite quinoa bowl on the lunch menu. Monday, it was at one of the sound guys for having the boom mic lower than usual, even though it was at the same height it always is. Rune had him fired before he could even adjust the mic. As Esther promised, he was rehired the following day.
It’s like Rune is on a mission to give me the world’s longest-lasting migraine. We’re clocking in at a solid nineteen hours so far. It’s bad enough that today is one of our aggressively early shoot days. When I came trudging into the building, the sun hadn’t even risen yet. It took hair and makeup an extra fifteen minutes to cover up my eye bags.
No one owns up to the banana situation. For all we know, there weren’t even any bananas at crafty this morning, but that doesn’t matter. Logic never matters when it comes to Rune.
