Things Are Different Here

two

Only the entire world knew that I'd been crushing on Olivia Jane Bryant—Olivia fucking Bryant, as Holly had dubbed her—for two years now. Okay, I'd been celebrity-crushing on her on my TikTok page for my twenty thousand followers, so it didn't technically count. Sure, I'd read every interview, watched every behind the scenes video, and I scoured her social media whenever she posted. But, it would never happen in a million years, we were never going to meet.

Until Friday, next week. Eleven days away.

Olivia had grown up on TV, playing in Disney shows as a supporting role for years. She'd made a name for herself about four years ago when she started acting on the big screen, and won the hearts of everyone in America. Olivia was just as down-to-earth in real life as she played on screen, and her charitable nature drew me—and every other queer girl once news hit that she was about as straight as a corkscrew—in. She did a lot of volunteer work with her local food bank, and even ran a weekly edit about current social issues. And, I was a sucker for her two rescue dogs that she was always posting about.

"Okay. I've got a list of all the production team's names, and they've sent me the script for you."

It was Monday morning, and I found myself once again in Holly's office in Manhattan. While being in the audition room made you feel worthless and terrified, Holly's pink walls invited you in. Millennial pink, of course. She had one accent wall that was some version of a rusty terracotta color, and her office decor came straight from HomeGoods and Target. Gold accent pieces adorned the wicker-style end tables, a monstera plant—which Holly had accurately named Karen, as it theatrically attempted death nearly once a month—sat in the corner by her one window that overlooked a parking garage, and exposed brick lined the doorway. Of course, she had a decor page on her Instagram.

I'd shown up a quarter past nine, knowing Holly would be even later. It was nine forty-two when she strolled in with her daily Dunkin' Donuts sugar-free latte and avocado toast. Her assistant, Blake, had let me in around half past nine after watching me stand outside for fifteen minutes. Holly thought he was passionate about his job, but everyone else in the building knew he was just here for the connections so he could move on up.

"I would say I can't believe you got the part, but I'm honestly not shocked. You're so talented, I was shocked when you wouldn't get parts."

"You have to say that. I'm paying you to basically be my hype woman." I rolled my eyes, and she scoffed at me. She sat down on the tan couch next to me, crossing one leg over the other and pulled her computer bag up beside her.

She shuffled around in the bag for a moment before producing a manila envelope and handing it to me. "I don't have to say anything. As far as we're concerned, I could be downright vile to you."

I took the envelope from her and opened it up. A full script was paperclipped together in there. "Not if you want to continue getting paid." I joked.

"Stacy, you're amazing. There wasn't a doubt in my mind you'd get this role." She looked at me with genuine pride. "I mean, of course, I thought it would be the supporting role. But you absolutely were going to get it, girl." I scrunched up my nose, wary of the compliment. I hated genuine adoration, it wasn't my favorite part about the audition process. You never knew if it was genuine, if if it was being said to stack the deck against you in some roundabout way. Holly, of course, you knew about. But it didn't make taking it feel any less like throwing back a shot of a twenty-year-old brandy when you'd been drinking watermelon seltzers all night.

I brushed over her praise and let my gaze wander to the script I'd pulled out of the envelope. It had post-it tabs on different pages throughout, and I flipped to the first one. Page two, Louise's first line. My first line.