Saturday Night Live

SNL | Chapter 1

I was late. Oh boy was I late. How could I have been late? How the hell did I end up over sleeping? Why didn't my phone alarm go off? Why did I put my trust in the damned thing? Why couldn't I just set the alarm on the clock? Why didn't I just do it the old school way? My mother always went on and on about how not to trust a phone when you needed it. This new technology, she bicker at me but what did I do? I waved her off everytime. I never had time to listen to her lectures sometimes. It was just a bunch of words scrambled together coming out of her mouth. It gave me a headache sometimes. No, all the time.

Why didn't my alarm go off? Why couldn't I get ready any faster? Oh God, I'm very, very ,very, very, very late! Please, forgive me for being late! I checked myself in the mirror of my make-up pouch and the reflection was ridiculous! I barely had time to put on make-up this morning which made me roll my eyes. That was another thing the words scrambled out my mother's mouth; that make-up was no good for my face. Well, mother, guess what? I needed make-up for times like this. My face looked like it had make-up, she tell me. I already had flawless buttery skin, my undertone natural skin tone glowed naturally, my mother also said and that was an agreement. But right now I looked hideous.

My thick, shoulder length pure brunette hair was slightly disheveled; I tried brushing it this morning but I was rushing. Damn it! My black eyes were the same color as the coated mascara around my eyes from yesterday's make-up so it was fading and made me look like the Winter Soldier or something. Shit! I looked a pale mess because I've overslept from a restless night. I was nervous about today and now I'm looking how I'm feeling! A nervous reck. Good Lord!  The clothes I threw on in a hurry wasn't helping any good. I didn't have time to even put on the outfit I had picked out just for today. I wonder how they're going to look at me dressed in a oversized white long sleeved shirt that drapped down to my knees. I could feel the sweat in between my thighs and under them on the seat.

I closed the mirror shut and threw it back into my make-up pouch and looked across the vehicle I was in to at my so called agent. He was busy clicking his thumb pads on his phone, not paying any sort of attention to me or whatever was happening to me. What a jerk. I mean, I loved him like a very close friend but I don't think he had what it took to get me where I wanted to go, where I deserved to be in my career! He had me practically a sitting duck!

“Fletch!”

He didn't look up but grunted in response, his thumbs kept flicking across the screen of his phone.

“What do you mean, hmph?! Answer me, damn it!”

He grunted louder.

“Fletcher! Do you have my script?!”

He extended a finger to a booklet right next to me. How did I miss that ducking into the car was beyond me. I never missed anything! I saw everything! I took in details! Dang, I must be that hysterical this morning—well afternoon! I twisted my wrist to glance at my Apple Watch to read the time and check notifications. Dang! I had a lots of Emails which I'm sure I know they were were about. Damn it! I'm soooo late. I'm not going to get the job.

“I swear, Fletcher, if I don't get this part, you're fired!”

He finally looked up, his chestnut brown eyes finding mine and unexpressive at my threatening words. Well why should he afraid? By now, I'm sure he knew I wasn't serious. I always was like this with him. I always spoke to him like this. In a certain mood, I'm pretty sure he could predict what I was going to say.

“Don't talk to me like I don't know what I'm doing, puppy,” he riposted, deadpan. “I called you about 10 times this morning.”

“My phone was dead! I for-forgot to charge it last night! How the fuck did I forget to charge my phone last night?”

Fletcher shrugged, snuggling his shoulders against the seat. “Who's fault is that?”

“Mine, I guess! But,” I exclaimed next and pointed a finger at him. “you could've woken me up some other way. Maybe, like screaming in my ear or something!”

He kept the same unexpressive look in his eyes as he stared over across at me. His cheeks puffed as he tried to keep himself from laughing at me.

“Scream in your ear...Puppy, get a grip. If I ever tried doing that, you'd knock my teeth out. Look, don't worry about it. I talked to the casting director. He knows all about why you're late.”

“He's not going to have time for me, Fletch!”

“But he will. He's seen millions of women already. I think he's waiting just for you.”

I crossed my arms and slumped back against the seat. “James, if you're trying to make me feel better,” I pouted with a hanging bottom lip, “forget it. Let's just forget it. Driver, take me back home.”

“Absolutely not! Jack, keep going.” Fletcher's eyes switched over and now I was looking at the color of wet dirt. All of his focus was on me now and it was hard. “Puppy, you can't give up. I swear to you that you will get this part! I promise you they're gonna love you. They aren't even going to look at someome else to do the part. Once you say a line, you're gonna rock their world. I know you can do it. Now say it.”

“I can do it,” I mumbled. To be all honest, I really didn't feel like going anymore. My mood was ruined. I thought about it to long now. It's been on my mind since last night and I just had a killing gut feeling that I was going to get casted out by another actress. I just knew it. I heard whats-her-name was going to be there and I couldn't compete with that! Never in a million years.

“I didn't hear you but that's the spirit! Alright, we're here. Let's go. Jack, park there. Come on, Puppy.”

~~~

“Stand there on the blue dot,” someone who had the voice of a long day instructed me as I entered the audition room. I didn't even have time to sit and think when I got inside. I was called immediately and given a script book. As I followed on hurry steps, I skimmed and skimmed the lines and learned as much as my anxious brain would let me. I think I had it memorized. I think. The problem was was I prepared to act the role? Suddenly I felt as if all my toss and turning and pacing was for nothing. I felt all of it start to drain away and that was bad. There was where my hard work was stationed! My lines, the characteristic mode. Oh, damn it.

“Hello, hi,” I greeted everyone in the room and stood patiently.

“Prathana Gandhi?” said the man in the casting director chair. He looked just about done for the day. His shirt was wrinkly, his hair was raked and he was slouching in the chair like he had no backbone.

“Yes,” I stated firmly with a nod. “That's me.”

“Begin.”

Ignoring the pound in my heart, I switched from Prathana to the woman I was auditioning for. All the worries, my mother's voice, Fletcher's look had all vanished.