He mops his face with his napkin. “Well…”

This is going to take all damned day. “Anything else?”

He pokes at his tuna slices. “You could visit schools, participate in drug and alcohol awareness presentations—”

“Um, no.” The irony would be too hilarious, but I’m not doing it. It would be like those teen celebs who pretend virginity, wearing chastity rings and preaching abstinence to other teens, only to get caught with their pants down at some point. Literally. I get enough close scrutiny from the press without daring them to catch me plastered or high.

“Well… uh, you could just donate cash—”

“Let’s go with that. Check with my dad, he’ll handle it.”

“Do you have a cause in mind?”

I look at him blankly. The only cause I believe in is my own. Chicks like animals, right? “Something with animals.” Stipulation: the cuter the better. “But no crazy activist groups. And domesticated animals—not some endangered salamander or shit like that.”

“Oh-okay, well... domesticated animals—like the SPCA?”

“Sure.” SPCA. Something-something-something-animals.

Emma

I’m removing my dinner of reheated leftovers from the microwave when my cell plays Emily’s ringtone. She doesn’t wait for hello. “Turn on channel ten!”

“Okay, just a minute—”

“No! Now!”

I head obediently for the television. “Keep your shorts on, I’m going. What’s on?”

“Who’s on, you mean.”

I key in the channel on the remote and the screen erupts in flashing images and the familiar theme music of Entertainment Tonight. “…and he’s here tonight to talk to us about a new project in the works,” the host says as the 52-inch screen catches up with the surround sound system.

The camera cuts to Reid Alexander, the hottest guy on film. “Yeah, I’m really psyched about it.” He swings his dark blond hair out of his eyes and smiles that trademark smile: a little shy, sorta humble, totally hot.

“Oh. My. God,” Emily breathes.

Reid Alexander is flat out eye candy: dark blue eyes and facial features bordering on pretty—long, dark eyelashes, almost pouty mouth—but the lines of his face are all male. His hair is perpetually disheveled, but it’s a flawless sort of mess. He doesn’t seem real; he’s like an artist’s interpretation of an eighteen-year old sex god.

“We hear the film is going to be an adaptation of Jane Austen’s classic novel, Pride and Prejudice?” The host holds the microphone under his chin.

“Um, yeah. It’s set in an American high school, so it’ll be different. Fresh, you know? I’ll be working with Adam Richter, which I’m really excited about.”

“Emma!” I feel Emily’s elation through the phone. “This is your movie, right? I saw the blurb and I thought holy shit that’s Emma’s movie!”

“Uh-huh.” I can’t reply coherently yet. Reid Alexander is playing Will Darcy in a film adaptation I wasn’t all that jazzed about auditioning for twenty-four hours ago.

“The question everyone wants answered: who is your leading lady going to be?”

“We’re running auditions in a couple of weeks, so hopefully I’ll know the answer to that real soon.” Another killer smile.

The host turns to the camera. “You heard it here, folks. Reid Alexander to play Will Darcy opposite a lucky as-yet-unnamed costar as Lizbeth Bennet. Who will it be? We’ll keep you posted! Filming should start late summer.”

I click the TV off and slump onto the sofa.

“Emma, this is destiny. It’s going to be you. Reid Alexander is Darcy and you’re going to be Elizabeth Bennet.”

“It’s Lizbeth,” I say. “They changed the names.”

“Whatever.” Emily is full of her usual confidence on my behalf. “You’re going to be her.”

I’m exhausted from poring over audition sides until 2 a.m. Coffee aroma drifts up from the kitchen, and I shuffle towards it single-mindedly, a zombie who craves caffeine instead of brains, until I hear Chloe, my stepmother, talking to my father in the kitchen. Reluctant to encounter either of them this early, especially if they’re feeling slighted over my lukewarm reaction to the audition news, I hesitate at the top of the staircase.

“She’ll come around. She always does. What’s she going to do? Manage her own career?” I stiffen at Chloe’s sarcastic tone.

My father is less mocking, more exasperated. “This could be her ticket out of bit parts and commercials. They’ve already cast Reid Alexander for the lead. Dan says that kid hardly has to audition. If he wants a particular role, he’s almost guaranteed to get it.”

“Plus he’s yummy hot.” How can Chloe say things like this when Reid Alexander is disgustingly close to the age of the geography students she teaches? You’d think she’d draw a personal line. Gross.

“I have no idea what she wants,” he says. If I rent a billboard or hire a freaking skywriter, might he comprehend what I say I want?

“She’ll come around,” Chloe says. “When she’s rich and famous, she’ll get decent work instead of chasing down whatever crappy roles she can get. Though it would be a stretch to call what she does working.” I grip the banister, waiting for him to say something in my defense.

“Humph,” he says, marching out the door to work. Chloe parks it in front of Good Morning America, because unfortunately spring break applies to teachers, too. Usually, I couldn’t care less about her opinion, as annoying as it is to listen to it at early-o’clock in the morning. Not even coffee can induce me to go down there now.

My father was there when I did my first commercial—nineteen takes to get the precise sip of juice that wouldn’t inhibit my two lines about how delicious and wholesome it was. I still can’t look at grape juice without gagging. He was there when the maniacal director of a low-budget made-for-tv movie screamed in my face because I dropped a prop phone. He watched as I sweltered through Arizona desert heat with a parka zipped to my chin, portraying the daughter of an intergalactic explorer who’d been exiled to a dry, frozen planet.

I thought he was clear on how hard I work, at least.

Don’t misunderstand—I love what I do. And I’m good at it. Some people assume acting is just putting on someone else’s clothes or accent, but that’s not enough. You have to unzip the character’s skin, step into her completely, allow yourself to meld with her. You have to become the character. Even if the character is a kid who really likes juice.

I should be grateful, I should feel lucky, and I am, I do. But even if you have what everyone else wants—if it isn’t what you want, it isn’t what you want. A high school film version of one of the greatest novels of all time? Really? Unless Jane Austen is a Reid Alexander fan, she’s probably spinning in her grave.

Chapter 3

REID

These auditions are killing me. They did screen tests on I don’t even know how many girls, and narrowed it down to twenty. Richter wants her to be attractive, but not exceptionally hot, which blows, but he’s right. Lizbeth Bennet is someone Will Darcy falls for against his normal inclinations.

I’d like to think I’m capable of having onscreen chemistry with anyone, but sadly, that isn’t the case. Before each girl comes in, we go over her headshots, clips of past film work, and her screen test. I’ve done auditions with eleven of them so far, and I’m thinking these are the ones we narrowed down to? We’ve spent varying amounts of time on each one, and I’m trying to figure out how Richter operates, because we’re spending longer with the ones I want to cut. Not that I’m complaining to Adam Richter about whatever method he uses or who he chooses.

“Daria,” Richter calls to his assistant, his finger on the clipboard of information in his hand. “We’re ready for the next girl. Belinda, is it?”

“Yes, sir,” Daria says. “I’ll bring her right in.”

“I’m going to kiss this one, aren’t I?” I say.

Richter barks a laugh and his bright blue eyes regard me over his glasses. “What makes you say that?”

Oops. “Um. It just seems the less jazzed I am about one, the more likely we are to do the kiss.”

His eyebrows—equal parts black and silver—rise slightly. “Good observation. I don’t want to miss out on possible physical chemistry, so the ones who aren’t passing the test on script audition get one final chance before we reject them.”

“That makes sense.”

“Thanks, I appreciate your support.” His mouth twists, and he laughs again when I color slightly, which I never do.

“Adam, this is Belinda Jarvis.” Daria leaves the girl standing in the center of the camera equipment.

I can tell right away that Belinda isn’t the one. Her face is too sensual, her expression too calculating. She could, perhaps, be Caroline Bingley. Reciting lines I know so well that I could deliver them while juggling, I read her body language and the way her half-lidded eyes gaze at me and decide that Belinda would be fun to have on set. We get to the kiss, and not two seconds into it, her tongue is in my mouth. Entertaining, yeah. Lizbeth Bennet, no. When she’s dismissed, I mention what I think to Richter, about using her for Caroline.

“We’ve already chosen Caroline and Charlie,” he says. “We ran their auditions concurrently, since their sibling chemistry and appearances must be convincing.”

“Can you tell me who?”

“I hope to be able to let you know Charlie by tomorrow. I’m calling him tonight. As for Caroline, she’ll be played by Brooke Cameron.”

Brooke Cameron. I try not to react, but Richter’s eyes miss nothing and I’m too knocked off center to hide my reaction. “You two worked on something together before, I think?”

“Yeah.” I do not want to go into detail. “A few years ago.” Almost four years ago, in fact.

He looks as though he has a follow-up question, but Daria pushes the door open and leans in. “Emma Pierce is here, Adam.”

Emma

I’m as intimidated auditioning for Adam Richter as I am auditioning with Reid Alexander. Dan warned me that Richter wouldn’t waste time on small talk, so I have to swallow my anxiety and convince him that I’m his ideal Lizbeth Bennet. (I called Emily for moral support but wasn’t helped by, “Oh. My. God. The thought of being that close to him. I can’t breathe.”)

“All right Reid, Emma, begin with ‘There you are,’” Richter says. “And… action.”

INT. School hallway – Day

WILL walks up to LIZBETH at her locker, touches her shoulder.

WILL

There you are.

LIZBETH pushes books into locker, turns to WILL, scowling.

LIZBETH

Yes?

(Scowling at Reid Alexander for any reason seems all wrong, but it’s in the script.)