Chapter 3 - Supporting Roles
1489 Words
Chapter 3 — Supporting Roles
The next morning, Natasha arrived at BrightStar earlier than usual. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as she pushed through the glass doors, clutching her coffee like a lifeline.
The studio was quiet at this hour, with only a few crew members setting up lights and cameras. She liked it this way — calm, with none of the stares or whispered conversations she sometimes thought she heard behind her back.
“Good morning, overachiever,” Mia chirped, popping out of nowhere with her usual bright grin.
Natasha jumped. “Oh—hi. Good morning.”
Mia fell into step beside her as they walked toward Stage 3. “So,” she said, drawing out the word like she was setting up a joke. “Are we pretending nothing happened yesterday? Or are you going to admit he likes you?”
Natasha blinked at her. “Who?”
Mia arched a brow. “Oh, come on. James. I’ve been working for that man for four years. I’ve never seen him laugh at anything, let alone smile at a sarcastic comment. And he’s been staring at you like you’re a scene he can’t get right.”
Natasha blushed, ducking her head. “Mia. It’s not like that. We just… get along professionally. That’s all.”
Mia smirked. “Mm-hmm. Sure.”
They reached the stage, and Mia winked before heading to her desk. Natasha took her place near the script table just as the actors began to trickle in for the table read.
---
The cast settled into their chairs around the long table, flipping through their scripts. Samantha, radiant and poised as always, smiled warmly at Natasha as she sat down.
James arrived last, striding in with his usual quiet authority. His eyes swept the table, landing on Natasha for just a moment longer than necessary before he sat at the head.
“All right,” he said briskly. “Let’s begin.”
As the actors began reading their lines, Natasha scribbled notes in the margins of her own copy. Every now and then, James glanced her way, and though he didn’t say much, Natasha could feel his approval in the way he nodded at her comments or quietly incorporated her suggestions.
Halfway through, he stopped the group.
“Scene 14,” he said, looking up. “Natasha — explain the emotional beat here. You wrote this. Tell them what you were thinking.”
Natasha froze for a second, then nodded and stood.
“This scene is… it’s about unspoken feelings,” she began softly, her hands gripping the script. “The characters aren’t saying what they really mean, but the audience can feel the tension. So, the delivery should be quiet… restrained. Like you’re trying not to give yourself away.”
James leaned back slightly, his eyes fixed on her, and — just for a moment — she saw the faintest curve of a smile on his lips.
When she finished, he nodded once. “Exactly.”
---
Across the table, Warren watched quietly.
He should have spoken up by now. Should have said something — anything — to make her notice him. But every time he saw her eyes light up when James looked at her… he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt.
When the table read broke for a short break, Warren stepped outside, leaning against the cool brick wall just beyond the stage doors.
He muttered to himself, flipping his script closed. “She doesn’t even see me.”
A laugh startled him. Samantha was standing a few feet away, phone in hand.
“You’re distracted today,” she teased.
Warren forced a smile. “Just thinking about my lines.”
“Mm-hmm.” Samantha tilted her head. “Well, you can brood later. Take a picture of me and Kevin first?”
Warren chuckled despite himself. “Sure.”
He took her phone and snapped a few photos of her and Kevin posing dramatically against the stage backdrop.
When she took her phone back and walked away, Warren opened his script again, but his eyes kept wandering back through the glass doors… to where Natasha sat laughing softly at something James said.
His chest tightened.
---
When Warren finally returned to the table, Natasha excused herself to the bathroom.
That’s when she heard them.
She slowed as she approached the corner near the break room, catching her own name in passing.
“—I mean, seriously,” Mika’s voice said, low and sharp. “Does she think she’s the first girl to smile at James and get noticed?”
Anna snorted. “She’s what, twenty-three? He’s thirty. Like, hello? Cradle robber much?”
Sophia added, “It’s so obvious what she’s doing. Get close to the director, make your career bloom. Typical.”
The three of them laughed, the sound slicing into Natasha like glass.
She stood frozen for a moment, then forced herself to walk past them, keeping her chin high.
They fell silent as she passed, their smirks speaking louder than their words.
She ducked into the bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink as the heat rose to her cheeks.
It wasn’t true. She wasn’t… seducing anyone. She was just doing her job.
But their words stuck to her like burrs.
When she finally rejoined the group, James glanced at her and frowned faintly — as though he could tell something was wrong — but said nothing.
---
Later that afternoon, James asked her to bring the revised notes to his office.
She knocked softly on the door.
“Come in.”
He was at his desk, scribbling something onto a stack of papers. When he looked up, his expression softened slightly.
“Sit,” he said simply, gesturing to the chair across from him.
She handed him the notes, but he didn’t immediately look at them. Instead, he leaned back, studying her face.
“You look… upset,” he said quietly.
Natasha hesitated. “It’s nothing.”
“Don’t lie.”
She forced a faint smile. “Just… first week nerves, I guess.”
For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, almost reluctantly, he said, “You’re good at this. Don’t let anyone make you doubt that.”
She blinked, surprised. “Thank you.”
He gave her a small, almost shy smile. “You remind me of… me. When I first started.”
She tilted her head. “Strict and intimidating?”
That made him laugh — a quiet, genuine laugh.
“No,” he said. “Ambitious. And… impossible to ignore.”
Natasha’s breath caught in her throat.
She looked away, cheeks flushing, and he cleared his throat, turning his attention back to the notes.
---
When the day finally wrapped, Natasha gathered her things and headed out.
James caught sight of her at the door.
“Where are you headed?” he asked, his voice softer now.
She turned, surprised. “Just home.”
He nodded once. “Get some rest. You deserve it.”
She smiled faintly before slipping out into the night.
---
Outside, she found Warren leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone.
When he saw her, he smiled warmly.
“Hey, Script Girl,” he called.
She laughed despite herself. “Still calling me that?”
“Yup,” he said, falling into step beside her. “Want me to walk you to the corner? Cabs get snatched fast around here.”
They walked together, the air cool and pleasant. Warren made her laugh with a ridiculous story about his first audition, and for a moment she felt lighter.
When they reached the corner, she turned to him. “Thanks, Warren.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Anytime.”
As she got into a cab, she glanced back at the studio — just in time to see James watching from the doorway, his expression unreadable.
---
Her home felt smaller than usual that night, but warmer too.
The smell of pasta greeted her as she walked in.
“Mama,” she called, smiling.
Her mother peeked out from the kitchen. “Natasha! Sit, sit. Your favorite tonight.”
She slipped off her shoes and settled at the table.
A few minutes later, Mikey bounded in, still in his hoodie and jeans.
“Big shot’s home,” he teased, plopping into the chair beside her.
“College boy,” she shot back with a grin.
Her father came in last, loosening his tie and kissing her hair before sitting down.
They ate together, her mother chatting about neighbors, Mikey cracking jokes, her father giving quiet advice about saving money.
And for the first time all day, Natasha felt… steady.
Here, in this little house in California, surrounded by her simple family, she could just be herself.
Even if the studio — and the complicated men waiting there — felt like a whole other world.
- Writer
