Angel at Dawn by Emma Holly Page B

this particular tripwire. Not about to dance to the tune of some human brat, he regarded her calmly.
    “I’ll mention if I want to,” he said with equally insincere pleasantness.
    Viv’s dove-soft jaw fell open as her director laughed. Nim Wei stopped when Viv stared at her, aggrieved.
    “Well,” the queen said, not exactly repentant, “now that you’ve established who’s the cock of the walk, perhaps we could continue our read-through?”
    Viv closed her mouth and tugged down her dress’s sleeves. The motion covered a flash of silver on one slim wrist.
    “ I’m ready,” the littlest Forrester said darkly.

Five

    G race could have warned Christian Viv would retaliate for his failure to apply his lips to her derriere. The former child star had a taste for screen idol-style fawning.
    Grace hid her amusement by bending over her script. With brisk, irritated motions, Viv flipped through her copy to catch up. She stopped when she reached the scene where her character, Mary, was breakfasting with her parents prior to her first day at Haileyville High School. Rolling her shoulders like an athlete, she cleared her throat.
    Grace couldn’t doubt that Christian was in for it.
    Normally, Viv wouldn’t have pulled out all the stops for a read-through. Since Christian had pricked her pride, however, she was determined to show him up. With a single—and believable—quaver in her voice, she became shy Mary. The actors who played her parents were perfect foils, their stage backgrounds making them sound fake even as they strove for sincerity.
    “Do try to be outgoing,” Mrs. Reed advised with a fruity maternal kindness no one on earth would have bought. “Not like at your last school. When I was your age, I was the belle of two classes.”
    “She was,” Mr. Reed agreed. “The prettiest cheerleader any of us had seen.”
    Viv-as-Mary jerked her head in a downcast nod. “May I be excused?” she mumbled.
    Grace could have laughed with pleasure at how convincing she was. The famous little Forrester tears thickened each soft word. All around the table, Grace spotted eyes dewing. Anyone who’d ever felt like an outcast—which, for some reason, included a lot of actors—was touched by Mary’s fragility. Christian was surveying the faces, too, though his expression seemed more aghast than moved. Grace could practically hear him wondering if he was expected to affect his audience this way.
    She looked down before he could catch her staring. As his gaze returned to his script, she saw his shoulders draw in slightly. Guilt for her humor sent a small twinge through her—but surely Christian was a big boy.
    Viv didn’t give away that she knew she had him; she was too good a thespian. Instead, she let herself disappear into her performance. Grace knew she was watching a tour de force, and hoped Viv could re-create this when cameras rolled. The girl was never overdone or self-conscious. She spoke as if the words came from inside her and not the page.
    Grace had no problem admitting they sounded better than she’d written them.
    To her delight, the other actors began to come up to Viv’s level. Good to start with, inspired by her example, they hit their lines more gently, the rhythm of their exchanges unfolding like real people talking. Their awareness of what was happening hummed palpably through them. They felt the promise of what this film could become.
    Only Christian grew tenser as pages turned.
    Despite her wariness of his pull on her, Grace was tempted to pat his white-knuckled hand, which he’d clenched on the table close to his chest. Christian wasn’t as bad as he thought—certainly no worse than most of the actors who’d auditioned to play Joe. For a beginner, he was darn good. Nothing in his performance jumped out as awful. He sounded smart and articulate. Grace hadn’t had to scribble one note to simplify his lines. As for his inexperience, he had his face to make up for that—that beautiful, coolly