Chapter 9
9
ARYA
A ngie’s patience, as dubious and thin as it was, seemed to be teetering on the brink. She sat on the couch with her legs crossed and a contraption clenched in her hand, staring at me with an expression that vacillated between exasperation and pity. I, on the other hand, had no patience at all for the small, glowing device she kept shoving at me.
“This,” Angie said for the third time, “is your cell phone. And you need to know how to use it because… well, literally everyone else does.”
I crossed my arms with a scowl and leaned away from the cell phone as though it was a venomous snake. “Why would I , Arya Ryder, daughter of Lord Zacharia, Minister of Rites to Emperor Valenor, need such a trivial thing?”
“Because you live in the twenty-first century, and nobody cares about your noble titles!” Angie snapped, shoving the phone closer. “This isn’t Elaria. You need to adapt. Now, take it.”
Reluctantly, I snatched the device from her hand and stared at it, my lip curling in distaste. “What is the point of this thing?”
“It’s how you communicate,” Angie said. “You make calls, send texts, check emails… You know, function like a normal human being.”
“I have no interest in ‘functioning’ like your kind,” I muttered, turning the phone over in my hands. “This device is small, impractical, and… it’s glowing.”
Angie groaned. “Just unlock it, okay? Swipe up. Like this.” She leaned over and demonstrated the motion.
I mimicked her gesture, albeit clumsily, and the screen lit up with a series of symbols and… strange words, but none of it made sense. “What am I looking at?”
“Your notifications.” Angie tapped the screen. “See all these messages? They’re from your agent. Apparently, she’s been trying to get in touch with you about… Oh, wow. Work. A lot of work.”
“Work?” I repeated, horrified. “Why would I —a noblewoman—stoop to something so… vulgar ?”
Angie gave me a flat look. “You’re a stunt double in Hollywood. You know, an actress? That’s what you do for a living.”
I stared at her, uncomprehending. “A stunt double? What nonsense is this?”
“You perform dangerous scenes in movies so the main actors don’t get hurt,” Angie explained. “Like jumping off buildings, car crashes, fighting. All the cool stuff.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That sounds absolutely barbaric. Why would anyone willingly subject themselves to such… indignities?”
“Because it pays well,” Angie said, rolling her eyes. “And it’s badass. You’re badass.”
“I don’t need money,” I declared. “I come from wealth.” She didn’t need to know that my family teetered on the brink of bankruptcy. Then again, I’d found a way to make my own money, so I was fine.
By the immortals…! My paintings were due… and I was late. If I didn’t make it back to Elaria, who knew what would happen?
Angie laughed. “Not here, you don’t. Welcome to capitalism, my lady. Anyway, your agent’s been blowing up your phone. Apparently, you’re in high demand.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could, the phone buzzed in my hand. I yelped and nearly dropped it.
“Relax.” Angie grabbed the phone and answered the call. “Hello? Oh, hey, Monica. Yeah, she… she’s here.”
I glared at her, indignant. “How dare you answer that without my permission!”
Angie ignored me. “Yeah, she’s… um… recovering from the accident. But she’s fine. What’s that? You need her to come down to the studio? Like, right now?” She glanced at me, her expression a mix of amusement and dread. “Uh, sure. We’ll be there.”
I snatched the phone from her. “Who do you think you are, demanding my presence?” I snapped into the device. “Do you know who I am?”
The voice on the other end was brisk and unimpressed. “Yeah, you’re Catalina Morales. And if you don’t get your ass here in the next thirty minutes, you’re out of a job. Got it?”
I blinked, momentarily stunned by the caller’s audacity. “How dare you—”
There was a click and then everything went silent.
“Hello? Hello?”
“She hung up on you!” Angie laughed.
I gasped. “How dare she!”
Angie was already grabbing her keys. “Come on, princess. We’ve got to go.”
“I am not going anywhere,” I declared, crossing my arms over my chest. “Let them grovel for my presence.”
“Yeah, that’s not how Hollywood works.” Angie dragged me toward the door. “Get your royal butt in the car.”
The drive to the studio was no less terrifying than the first time I’d been subjected to the metallic beast. Angie, however, seemed immune to my protests, panic, and demands that she slow down. By the time we arrived in the town she called Burbank, my nerves were frayed and my hair was likely a mess from gripping it in terror.
The studio itself was a sprawling complex of buildings and open lots that bustled with noise and activity. People scurried about with what Angie called clipboards, cameras, and various odd contraptions. The entire scene was chaotic, noisy, and utterly beneath me.
As Angie pulled up to a security gate, a man wearing a uniform leaned out of a small booth. “Morning, Cat,” he said with an easy smile. “Good to see you back.”
I gave him a frosty glare. “Do I know you?”
The man blinked and his smile faltered. Angie leaned over me and laughed nervously. “She’s… uh… still recovering from the accident. Bit of a head injury. You know how it is.”
The guard nodded sympathetically and waved us through. I huffed, crossing my arms as Angie drove deeper into the warren of strange buildings.
When we finally stopped and stepped out of the metallic beast, Angie led me to a large warehouse-like building. Inside, the chaos intensified. People called out instructions, adjusted lights, and hauled equipment around. It was as though they were preparing for some grand battle.
“There she is!” A woman strode toward us, her heels clicking on the concrete floor. She was tall, impeccably dressed, and exuded an air of authority that rivaled my own. “Cat, where the hell have you been?”
“Unconscious,” I said coldly. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Listen, I don’t have time for your diva act. We need you to audition for a stunt sequence. Now .”
I stared at her, appalled. “Audition? I do not audition. People come to me !”
The woman gaped and waved her hand. “Oh, for the love of… Angie, get her suited up.”
Angie giggled and nodded. “Of course, Monica.” After guiding me toward the center where all the lights were focused… she left me.
Within moments, two men in black T-shirts appeared, each holding a dangling leather contraption. Without waiting for my consent, they began attaching straps around my torso and legs, tightening them until I could barely breathe.
“What are you doing?” I demanded shrilly, trying to push their hands away. “Unhand me at once!”
“Just relax,” one of the men said as he tightened a buckle near my waist. “You’re going to be fine. This harness will keep you safe.”
“Safe?” I shrieked. “What are you planning to do to me?”
They exchanged a look with each other but didn’t answer. Instead, they hoisted me off the ground with ropes connected to the so-called harness, and my feet dangled helplessly at a dizzying height. My shrieks echoed through the cavernous building as I flailed.
“Put me down this instant!” I bellowed, twisting in midair.
“Alright, bring her up,” someone called from above.
Suddenly, I was lifted even higher, my stomach lurching with every movement. The ropes jerked and swung as unseen workers adjusted me into position. “This is barbaric!” I yelled. “You’re all mad!”
“Okay, Cat,” a man shouted from below. “We’re going to do a basic swing and flip. Simple stuff. Just follow the motion.”
“Follow the motion?” I spat. “I’m not a trained monkey!”
“Action!” the man barked.
The harness jerked, sending me swinging wildly through the air. My hair whipped into my face as I spun uncontrollably, my arms floundering at my sides. In a blink, I flipped upside down and the blood rushed to my head.
“Stop this madness!” I screeched.
“She’s not following the movement,” someone muttered petulantly.
“No kidding,” another replied.
My stomach twisted violently as the harness flipped me again, over and over. By the time they finally lowered me to the ground, I was shaking and all the blood had leached from my face. I stumbled to a trash can and promptly emptied my stomach, much to the dismay of the workers around me.
As I stood there trying to regain my composure, the woman in the sharp heels—Monica, apparently—marched toward me wearing an irritated expression that rivaled a storm cloud. Her voice, loud and unrelenting, cut through the din of the studio.
“What the hell was that?” she demanded, jabbing her hands on her hips. “You call that an audition? You just made a complete fool of yourself in front of half the production team!”
I straightened and attempted to clutch the last scraps of my dignity. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner? Do you understand who you’re addressing?”
“I know exactly who I’m addressing,” Monica snapped. “A stunt performer who just wasted everyone’s time and money with… whatever that was. Do you even want this job anymore, Cat? Because you’re sure acting like you don’t.”
“Acting? This ordeal is beneath me!” I shot back, my voice rising to match hers. “You dare to chastise me when it’s your foolish contraptions and barbaric methods that made this entire display a travesty?”
Angie stepped forward, stepping between us with an apologetic smile. “Uh, Monica, if I could just—”
“No, Angie,” Monica cut her off, pointing at me. “I’ve been patient. I’ve given her the benefit of the doubt after her little… accident, but this—this—was ridiculous.”
Angie raised her hands in a calming gesture. “Okay, let’s take a step back. Look, she’s still recovering, and honestly, she’s not herself right now. Head injuries can be tricky, you know? Maybe she just needs a little more rest before jumping back into something this intense.”
Monica crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. “Rest? She’s had a month . I’ve got directors breathing down my neck. If she doesn’t shape up—”
“She will! And come on, Monica, she was in a coma for that month, so it wasn’t like she was relaxing. But I promise she’ll be back to her normal self soon,” Angie cut in hastily, throwing me a pleading glance. “Won’t you, Cat? You’ll… take it easy and be ready to come back stronger, right?”
I opened my mouth to deliver another scathing remark, but Angie’s desperate eyes stopped me. I huffed and folded my arms. “Fine. If it will end this absurd conversation, then yes, I will… ‘rest’.”
Monica shot me another icy glare before turning on her heel. “She’s got one more chance. One . After that, she’s done.” Her heels clicked furiously against the concrete as she stalked away.
As soon as Monica was out of earshot, I rounded on Angie. “What nonsense was that about rest? I don’t need rest; I need answers! Now tell me about this person who can get me back to Elaria.”
Angie froze, her face pale. “Uh… about that…”
I narrowed my eyes. “You lied to me, didn’t you?”
Angie winced. “Okay, yes, but—”
“You lied to me?!” I shrieked. “You promised me that if I humiliated myself on those ridiculous contraptions, you would help me return home!”
“I didn’t know how else to get you to do it!” Angie protested, holding up her hands defensively. “You were going to ruin your career, and I panicked!”
I clenched my fists as fury burned through every nerve ending. “You are deceitful, conniving, and utterly untrustworthy! I will not tolerate such treachery!”
Before Angie could respond, I turned on my heel and stormed off, my boots smacking against the concrete. The studio was a maze of equipment, trailers, and unfamiliar faces. Within moments, I realized I had no idea where I was or how to get out. My anger only grew as I wandered aimlessly, glaring at anyone who dared approach me.
Eventually, I stopped in the middle of a lot surrounded by towering lights and half-built sets. I took a deep breath, my chest heaving with frustration. “Where is the exit to this wretched place?!” I demanded aloud, though no one seemed to hear me.
I was lost, furious, and utterly alone in this strange, chaotic world. And worse, I had no one to blame but myself for trusting Angie.