Chapter 3
GRACE
Afew hours later, I was flat on my back on a yoga mat, staring up at the fluorescent lights of the gym and wondering if death by leg press was a real thing.
“Come on, Grace! Give me five more!” Becky’s voice cut through my pain and suffering like a drill sergeant who’d had way too much caffeine. “You can do this!”
“I can’t,” I gasped. “I’m dying. Tell my mother I loved her.”
“You’re fine. Five more!”
I groaned and pushed through another rep, my thighs burning with the kind of pain that promised I wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.
But that was the price of maintaining what Hollywood considered an acceptable body without resorting to the kind of starvation diets that left you hollow-eyed and cranky.
I preferred the cranky that came from physical exhaustion, thank you very much.
“Four more!”
“I hate you.”
“You love me. Three more!”
I did love her. Becky had been my best friend since college, back when neither of us knew what the hell we were doing with our lives. She’d figured it out faster than me. Got her personal training certification, built up a client list, and now spent her days torturing people for money.
Lucky me, I got the friends-and-family discount on torture. She loved her job a little too much. A bit of a sadist, really, but it made for a good workout.
“Two more! Think about Jack Montana!”
I pushed through another rep, my arms shaking. “What about him?”
“You nailed your audition.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Girl, we were on video chat for an hour while you rehearsed,” she said. “I believed you were the CEO. I’m sure you totally killed it.”
I did kick ass in that audition but I had seen my competition. Some I knew just from being in the business. They had actual resumes. They’d actually had parts that required them to speak.
“There are a lot of other great actresses trying out,” I panted, finishing the last rep and letting the weights drop with a satisfying clang.
Becky handed me a towel and I wiped the sweat off my face. “Be honest. How do you think it went?”
I sat up, my muscles already starting to stiffen.
“I honestly don’t know. I thought I did well, but it’s impossible to know what they thought.
The director barely said anything. Just ‘that was great, we’ll be in touch.
’ Which could mean anything from ‘you’re hired’ to ‘please never darken our doorway again.’”
“What was he like?”
“Professional. Focused.” I paused, remembering those intense eyes watching me from behind the camera setup. “Hot, actually. Really hot. Dark hair, blue eyes, looked like he hadn’t slept in a week but it worked for him.”
Becky grinned. “Oh really?”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying it couldn’t hurt to look good for the hot director too. Isn’t that a thing in these parts?”
“That’s not why I’m working out. These parts? You grew up here. We live in these parts. And that is frowned upon these days. I’m a professional.”
She pulled me to my feet. “Come on, cardio time. Thirty minutes on the treadmill, Miss Professional.”
I wanted to argue, but she was right. If by some miracle I actually got this part, I needed to be camera-ready.
The kind of ready that looked effortless but required hours of work nobody saw.
I hadn’t seen the whole script, but knowing Jack Montana, there would be action.
And that meant me running in a scene over and over.
I didn’t want to be hunched over and sucking leaves from the ground.
We moved to the treadmills. I started at a light jog while Becky took the machine next to me, setting hers to an incline that would have killed a normal person.
She had an ass you could bounce a quarter off of.
I wasn’t foolish enough to even pretend I could ever get an ass like that.
I wasn’t exactly a Kardashian, but I had junk in the trunk.
Junk that would fall if I didn’t keep up with my workouts.
“So what happens now?” she asked, not even breathing hard.
“Now I wait. And obsess. And check my phone every five minutes. And drive myself crazy wondering if I should have delivered that one line differently.”
She nodded sympathetically. “The waiting is the worst part.”
“The waiting is torture.” I increased my speed slightly, falling into a rhythm. “I keep replaying it in my head. Did I blink at the right time? Was my posture okay? Did I sound too rehearsed? Not rehearsed enough? Am I not pretty enough?”
“You’re gorgeous,” she said.
It was becoming harder for me to talk. She had no problems.
“Don’t spiral out now,” she said. “Burn off that anxiety on the treadmill.”
I grunted and pumped my legs faster.
We ran in silence for a few minutes, me out of necessity, her because she was planning her next pep talk.
Or she was going to yell at me for not increasing the incline.
The steady thump of our feet on the treadmills created a hypnotic pattern.
The gym was relatively empty for a weekday evening, just a few people scattered around, lost in their own workouts.
“You know what I think?” Becky said finally.
“What?”
“I think you got it. I think you walked in there, blew them away, and they’re going to call you soon with the good news.
I wanted to believe her. “You have to say that. As my best friend.”
“I have to say it because it’s true. You’re talented, Grace. And one of these days, the right people are going to see that.”
My throat tightened a little. “Thanks, Beck.”
“Plus, you’re hot. That helps.”
I laughed, the tension breaking. I didn’t have the oxygen required to reply.
We finished our cardio, and I was contemplating whether I had the energy for another set of weights when Becky produced two green smoothies from her gym bag.
“B Well?” I asked, recognizing the logo.
“The green detox blend. It’s amazing.”
I took the bottle and examined it. “Isn’t this the company owned by the Blackwells?”
“The very same. Hollis is the one who decided to do health and wellness. Total waste of a pretty face, if you ask me.”
I took a sip. It actually wasn’t bad. Surprisingly sweet despite the aggressive green color. “This is pretty good.”
“Right? I’m obsessed. I’ve been drinking one every day after workouts.”
We moved to a bench near the windows, and I let myself enjoy the cooldown.
My muscles ached in that satisfying way that meant I’d actually worked hard.
It felt like a million needles were pricking my legs.
I was able to breathe again at least. Sweat clung to the back of my neck and pooled at the small of my back.
The exercise had taken the edge off the anxiety. Becky has been right about that.
“So when do you think you’ll hear something?” she asked.
“Loretta said it would be soon. The movie starts shooting in two weeks.”
“Can you call? Like send a follow-up message?”
I laughed. “That’s not how it works. They call my agent. I can’t call anyone. I don’t even know who they are.”
My phone rang. I pulled it out of my gym bag, and my heart jumped when I saw Loretta’s name on the screen.
“Oh no,” I murmured.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Loretta. She’s either telling me I didn’t get a callback or she is calling me with another audition for some STD commercial.”
She laughed. “Answer and find out.”
I swiped to accept, my hand suddenly shaking. “Hello?”
“Grace!” Loretta’s voice exploded through the speaker, so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “Oh my God, Grace, I can’t—I just got the call and I?—”
“Loretta, slow down. I can’t understand you.”
“You got it!” she shrieked. “You got the part! They want you for Breathless! They’re sending over the contract tonight and the studio is overnighting the full script so you can start memorizing!”
The world tilted slightly. I stared at Becky, who watched me with wide eyes, and tried to process what I’d just heard. The buzzing in my head made it difficult to think.
I couldn’t have heard her correctly. Then I remembered the commercial audition I had gone on two weeks ago. That had to be what she was talking about.
“The dish soap commercial?” I asked, my heart pounding like crazy.
“What? Dish soap? No!” She laughed. “The director called personally. Said you were exactly what he was looking for. They want you signed by tomorrow morning. Grace, this is it. This is your big break!”
“I got it,” I said, the words not quite feeling real. “I actually got it.”
“You got it! I’m so proud of you! We need to meet tomorrow to go over the contract details, but, Grace, this is huge. Your name on the poster next to Jack Montana! Do you know what that means? I hope you’re ready to work your ass off for at least the next five years!”
Becky was practically vibrating next to me, clearly dying to know what was happening.
“Loretta, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
“Go celebrate!” she said. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m sending over all the details tonight. Check your email!”
“Okay. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“You did this, kid. All you. Now go enjoy it!”
The call ended and I sat there, phone in hand, trying to make my brain catch up with reality.
“Well?” Becky demanded.
I turned to look at her, and I could feel the grin spreading across my face. “I got it. I got the part.”
Becky screamed loud enough that several people across the gym turned to look at us. Then she threw her arms around me, nearly knocking me off the bench.
“I knew it! I knew you’d get it! Congratulations!”
I hugged her back, and suddenly it all felt real. I was going to be in a movie. A real movie. With Jack Montana. My name would be on a poster. Hair and makeup. Wardrobe. An actual set in one of the massive soundstages.
I’d done it. Without my father’s name. Without any connections. Just me and my talent.
“Okay,” I said, pulling back and wiping at my eyes. “Okay, I really need to do some cardio now. I need to be in the best shape of my life for this. I’m a co-star!”
Becky stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “Fuck that. We’re celebrating.”
“But—”
“No buts. You just landed the role of a lifetime. We’re going out, we’re getting drinks, and we’re toasting to Grace Stone, movie star.”
I looked down at my sweaty gym clothes, then back up at my best friend’s beaming face.
“Okay,” I said, laughing. “Let’s celebrate.”
We could worry about more cardio tomorrow.
“I’ll go home and change,” I said.
“Hurry. Wear something fun. Just think, this will be the last time you get to go out without getting swarmed by paparazzi.”
I laughed and picked up my bag. “I can’t even imagine.”
“Hey,” she said.
“What?”
“Don’t forget the little people when you’re all rich and famous.”
“Becky, I would never.”
I didn’t point out that I’d been rich when she met me. And my father was famous. I managed to stay out of the spotlight, though. That was the only way I was able to be Grace Stone. I was just one of the many wannabe actresses in the city of angels.
At least I used to be. In a year, people would know my name and face. Maybe six months. Six months to be anonymous.
Shit, was that what I really wanted? Fame could be a double-edged sword.
Yep. I fucking wanted it and I’d ride it until Hollywood chewed me up and spit me out.