Stardom

Slipping

The corridor was full when I arrived and the hopeful and anxious expressions of each applicant were looking back at me from every direction. I took a seat among them, watching as they dwindled before my eyes, called in one by one by the tall, blonde assistant, her high stiletto heels announcing her arrival far before she appeared around the corner each time. She had the best poker face that I'd ever seen, never giving away anything as she briefly interacted with each of us, her face remaining set in a professionally distant mask of indifference. There were less than half of us left when she returned once again, calling my name and making my heart leap into my throat.

Nodding my head once, I followed her along the hallway, and through a set of double doors, into a large, cavernous room. It reminded me of a theatre, yet there was no stage, no level difference between me and the other occupants in the room. Three smartly dressed people were a mere few steps in front of me, seated behind a long table, laptops set up in front of them as they conversed in hushed tones. A few other people were scattered about in a series of chairs laid out in rows, all facing in my direction. I maintained a polite smile as I caught the eye of some of the audience, my gaze wandering to the table, where I instantly recognised the middle-aged man in the middle, Harrison De'monte, a well-known casting director, who looked up at my approach.

"Miss McCall, correct?" He asked gruffly, consulting his list briefly.

"Yes, Sir, that's correct," I nodded, stopping a short distance from his position.

"Do we have your headshot?" He mumbled more to himself than anyone else as he ran a hand over the sea of papers on his desk.

"No, I have copies here," I replied confidently, raising my hand which was clutching a plastic file, and moving closer, pulling three copies from the file and handing the sheets to each of them in turn before returning back to my position.

"Very well," He added, glancing briefly at the page, then laying it back on the table, consulting his list again, "You're reading for the part of Rhianna, I believe you're familiar with the scene?"

"Yes, I was sent a copy yesterday."

The woman beside him began typing, pressing her square spectacles higher up her nose, whilst the younger man on his other side made some quick ticks on a piece of paper.

"Perfect. You may begin when you're ready."

I managed a smile and retreated a few steps further to allow myself room to move. I was glad that I'd memorised the script the night before, as being able to read lines without it was a reassuring tick by my name for sure. All eyes were upon me as I launched into my first line:

"There's nothing you can say, Marco," I said, twisting my expression into one of pain and sorrow, "I can't go back to how it was, I can't betray all that I know, all that I believe there is... just to be with a man who can't be sure about what we have."

I paused to acknowledge the line that Marco was meant to say, giving the audience a second to allow my line to sink in, before continuing:

"You love the idea of us, the reality never lives up to our dreams,"

"Okay, stop there for a moment," Harrison called, his voice cutting across my line and making my heart pound against my chest as I worried about what I'd done wrong. "I'm going to have us skip to the end of the scene, and this time I'd like someone else to read with you," He turned to the gathered people behind him, "Mitch, could you read for Marco please?"

A man rose from the second row, his face getting clearer as he approached, stepping into the light. He was handsome, mid-thirties at most, with short and tidily styled chestnut hair and piercing blue eyes. He smiled warmly as he stopped before me.