"Come here," his voice is gentle again.
She gives in, placing her small hand in his. Lifting the cloth, he sees her blood spill out from her palm. He inhales sharply through his teeth and presses the rag back down. They sit there like that for abo...
Sandra turns around, hand still on the door, her crew neck white t-shirt slipping over one shoulder. "Yes, sir?"
Pushing his glasses up on his nose, the casting director is looking down at her headshot, exposing a bald spot on the crown of his head as he scribbles some notes. On his shirt she can see some dried mustard from lunch, partially covered by his brown tie hugging his sunken chest and rounded belly. He doesn't bother looking up at her as he continues, "Have you considered dying your hair blonde and using those, those colored contacts?"
She takes a breath and forces a smile. "I'll talk to my agent, sir. Thank you for the notes."
"You're welcome."
She walks down the hallway in silence, pressing the LL button on the elevator to take her to the lower level. She enters the elevator and stares ahead as the doors close. When she is certain she is alone, she mutters, "That guy, THAT guy, that crusty fucker has an opinion on my hair color? My hair color! At least I've got hair on my head, I swear—"
Ding!
The elevator door opens and in walks an older woman with two young girls in sundresses. She straightens her shirt, takes a big breath, and offers her bright smile to them as a greeting.
Back at Beachwood Canyon, she opens the door and sets down her things. Gesine is finishing some dishes in the kitchen. The phone rings and Sandra answers. The conversation is brief. Her sister doesn't have to ask what that phone call meant, it is written all over her face. This is the fifth audition she's been on in as many weeks. All of them fell through.
She'd graduated with a masters of fine arts degree earned with a full scholarship. She carried every one of her university productions and had done more than her share of commercials. She studied under some big name acting coaches, yet door after door was closing and her agent sounded like a broken record when she called her with notes from casting.
"Do you think she could lose like twenty pounds, but not from her ass or breasts? We just don't want her thighs to touch," was the comment made by one.
"I weigh 125 pounds and I'm 5'8!" She almost screamed at her agent, incredulous at the suggestion.
"We're looking more for that all-American girl next door for this one," said another, barely hiding his disdain at anyone that didn't look like supermodel Claudia Schiffer. Ironic, given Claudia and Sandra were both German, but Claudia was born in Germany and Sandra was born in the states. Hmmm, I wonder what they mean by "all-American", she thought, nauseated.
"She's sweet. She's got the chops for the part but, she's just not exotic enough," quipped another.
When yet another person from casting recommended that she look into implants, Sandra was almost ready to call it quits and look into other career options.
"What about theater?" Gesine suggests as Sandra peels off her t-shirt and jeans, pulling on a pair of black cropped spandex pants and a sports bra.
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