Geekerella (Starfield #1)(37)

For the first time in a long time, someday actually feels possible.





I RUN THROUGH THE FIGHT SCENE in my head while the rest of the crew preps for another take.

Left, right, dodge. Pick up, ram, back-step, back-step, back-step—

My heel slides off the edge of the set piece. I almost lose my balance and fall, but manage to lean forward just in time. Calvin-slash-Euci looks up before tucking his phone into his jacket. No one yells at him for having a phone on set.

“Take twenty-three!” Amon yells. “Darien, let’s see a little more Carmindor in this one.”

“Like I haven’t already,” I mutter, rolling my shoulders.

We’re on the ship’s bridge, for one of the major scenes of the film, but right now it just looks like a bunch of plywood with fancy running lights and one huge green screen behind me. Everything will be added in post.

We take our places on the far side of the set. I can do this footwork in my sleep. Calvin hops back and forth, the camera lights shining against his waxed Euci forehead.

“You cool?” he asks.

“I’m cool,” I say. We haven’t exchanged more than a few words since arriving on set, but I don’t think we’d be friends in real life, anyway. He’s the sports-playing type. Got his start on some family show, then migrated to Hollywood. Plus he’s, like, almost thirty. “Why?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Just wanna make sure this isn’t too hard for you.”

I look at him strangely.

“Since everything’s come so easy to you,” he adds, adjusting his fingerless gloves. “Rich mama, good connections through your daddy. It’s not exactly a secret.”

“I—” I almost stammer. “Hey, I’m not my parents.”

“Just their biggest investment, right?” He shrugs. “Hey, don’t worry. After this thing bombs you’ll be back to gigs more in your league.”

I open my mouth to object, but nothing comes out. I don’t know what should come out. Is he right? That this is out of my league?

“Okay, let’s start.” Amon gives a signal with his hand to start rolling.

Don’t think about it. Just act. I try to shake off his words, but he’s got this smirk on his face that is more menacing than friendly, and it throws me off.

Does everyone think that? That I didn’t bust my chops to get here like the rest of them? That because my mom is a zillionaire socialite and my dad an agent I’ve had it easy? Or is Calvin just salty because—

—because I’m Carmindor, I realize. I’m Carmindor, and he’s not. No matter that I auditioned, that the casting director picked me, or that Calvin’s white and Carmindor definitely isn’t. Maybe none of that matters. Maybe Calvin Rolfe is the kind of person the fans would accept as their Federation Prince.

I start back-stepping, sliding my feet across the plywood. Calvin advances, gaining momentum, tensing.

“And…GO!” Amon shouts.

There’s an explosion behind us—bright lights, the actual effects to be added later—as half the ship blows. Calvin lunges at me. I dodge left, grab his right hook, but he powers through it and sends me careening backward. I slam against the floor, pulling my weight back, scrambling to get my feet under me. He picks me up by the collar; I grab his hand and wrench it away.

Quickly, I reach for my gun. Too slow. He rams his shoulder into my chest and I stumble into the console. The entire structure shakes. He grabs hold of my neck and pretends to squeeze—one second, two…okay it’s getting a little tight now, actually.

Holy throttle, Batman, any moment now—

“And CUT!” Amon says.

Calvin lets go and bumps my shoulder. “Good footwork.”

I rub my neck. “You think you could’ve been a little gentler?”

“Then it wouldn’t’ve looked real, eh? You can take it.”

Amon motions for everyone to reset the scene as he looks at the take in a small monitor. “Okay, we’re doing good. Euci—I mean Calvin—could you look less menacing? You’re brain-dead. You don’t know what you’re doing. The Nox has control of your mind.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“And Darien”—he doesn’t even confuse me with the Federation Prince, that can’t be a good sign—“can you be more…” He motions to the air with his hands. A PA jumps onto the set to fix the fake blood on my forehead. “More Carmindor?”

Yep. Not a good sign. I put my hands on my hips, nodding. “Yeah, sure thing.”

“Okay, good. Everyone, let’s try that again—”

Suddenly, Gail’s phone begins to ring. Amon shoots an annoyed look at her as she flounders to silence it—why doesn’t she just turn it off?—and answers the call quietly. Her face goes pale.

This is going from bad to worse.

She hops off the chair and shuffles up to me, her hand over the receiver. “It’s Mark,” she whispers. Her eyes are wide and she’s shaking her head. “You’re in the news.”

I blink at her once. Twice. Before it sinks in. “Oh, shit.”

“Hey, what’s this?” Amon asks.

“I—uh—it’s an emergency, sorry,” I say.