AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Do it,’ Pierre instructs. ‘I need to see how you look when you’re laughing.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ I snap. I know I should be used to acting on the spot, but this is starting to feel uncomfortable, like I’m being tested on something I wasn’t even given time to prepare for.
‘If you look ugly when you laugh, then this is a problem,’ Pierre replies impatiently.
‘I don’t,’ I argue, before turning to Zayan. ‘This can’t be normal.’
Zayan pins me with a sharp look, irritation loud in his voice. ‘This isn’t a joke, Farah.’
‘I know that, because if it was a joke I’d be genuinely laughing,’ I quip back, equally annoyed.
His self-control seems to be thinning, because he leans forward to say his next words. ‘Are you taking this seriously? Or not? We have a lot riding on this, on getting this right, on convincing the public that we’re in love. If you can’t do it, say it now and save me the trouble. I need someone dependable.’
He holds my gaze with his. Hard. Harsh. A little wild. My heart thuds against my ribs, angry and overwhelmed by how much I’ve had to take on. But I force myself to stiffen my spine, to raise my chin and appear unaffected.
‘I can do it,’ I reply, my tone even despite my internal trembling. I turn to Pierre, press on a smile and fake a laugh.
Pierre’s gaze swings between us before he responds. ‘That’s good. You look good. Let’s move on to mannerisms together …’
I let Pierre’s instructions wash over me, taking notes as he talks. I don’t look at Zayan, fearing that if I do, I’ll launch myself over the table and slap him. He’s rude. He’s broody. He’s the antithesis of who I thought he was going to be.
I wish my dupatta had choked him instead.
For the next hour, Pierre relays more instructions on posture, on what to like on social media, on what to say, on what not to say, even on how to hold Zayan’s hand – laced fingers, palm to palm. How to angle myself in front of a camera, how to pretend to look shy, how to look bold. My notebook is filled with ink and my wrist is aching from all I’ve written.
I’m grateful when Lacey pops her head in, hoping that she’s come to set us free, but she only calls for Zayan. I slump in my chair, desperate for some way to get out of the room for a few moments.
‘I need to use the bathroom,’ I announce, just as Pierre takes a large lungful of breath between stretches of monologuing on how to sit with my legs crossed in front of the camera, so I give off a demure, ladylike look.
He waves me off, irritated to be interrupted. ‘Go, but be back quickly. It’s down the hall and to the left. Don’t talk to anyone – I haven’t trained you on what to say yet.’
I nod quickly and make my escape. The hallway is lined with doors, all grey with silver handles. I turn the corner, but come to a halt when I see Zayan leaning against the wall, Lacey standing in front of him, and I duck back behind the corner, hoping they haven’t seen me. I wait for a couple of breaths, my ears straining to hear if they’re walking into another room. But instead of footsteps, soft-spoken words fill the quiet.
‘It was another rejection,’ Lacey says, with such kindness even my heart aches a little.
‘Which movie?’ Zayan asks, voice devoid of emotion.
‘The historical-fantasy one.’
The moan from Zayan is startling. I lean forward to sneak a peek, catching the way he tips his head back on the wall and presses his palms to his eyelids. Lacey makes an abrupt movement to try and place her hand on his arm but thinks better of it.
He wanted this role. Badly.
‘They said that they loved your ability, but they’re worried that the negative press surrounding you would bleed into the movie. The fans are still upset with you. They think you’re selling out your culture. There’s just too much negativity for a studio to risk hiring you. Still, that photo with Farah helped. They didn’t say it explicitly, but it’s clear: if you’re able to change the public’s perception of you after that TV series, you’ll get more roles. You need this relationship to work, Zayan. A new love story trumps a bad TV series and a bad break-up.’
I look at Zayan and feel so keenly what he’s feeling. The sharp edge of rejection is still fresh in my own mind – the dull thud of pain in your lungs, the mental games: what could I have done differently?
I knew the press was bad for Zayan, but I didn’t know it was this bad. From a fan’s perspective, you see that many actors bounce back from such blunders eventually. But here, being on the inside, it’s clear how easy it is to be buried in the graveyard of failed careers.
Lacey leaves Zayan alone to contemplate all of this, turning on her heel and walking down another corridor. I should go too, but instead of briskly walking by and pretending I’ve heard nothing, I stop beside him. He drops his palms from his eyes, unable to hide his disbelief at me standing there.
I press my back to the wall opposite him. ‘How many nos?’
He says nothing for a long moment. He doesn’t have to share any of this with me. It’s not part of the agreement. ‘Seven, as of today.’
‘Always the same reasoning?’
‘Always.’
