Dazzled

  Jo-Anne handed me a script with some passages highlighted.

  “Just give this a read through. I’m not expecting you to memorize it – just get the general feel for your character, Nuriel. And take your shirt off when you’re ready.”

  What?!

  “Is that a problem?”

  She looked at me curiously and I could feel my face getting hot.

  “Uh, no. That’s fine.”

  What the hell?

  God, I really wished I hadn’t had all that beer and kebabs over the last couple of weeks. It never occurred to me that anyone would ask me to take my shirt off in an audition. I could have cursed Melody for this. Ironically, I’d have killed for a beer right then.

  Okay. I’d focus on the script. Yes, concentrate on that. I did remember it. It had seemed kind of dumb when I did the audition tape – definitely a chick flick. I was supposed to play an angel who had come to earth to help the citizens of a community in small-town America. And, of course, I’d fall in love with a human girl. So I was a perfect being. Great. How the hell was I going to play perfect? I was vaguely aware that angels were asexual beings – at least I thought they were. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure of anything. Shit. Maybe they thought I was gay.

  Feeling pale and definitely not toned, I pulled off my shirt and stood self-consciously looking out toward the ocean. At least there were no mirrors. Thank God I’d had a quick wash at the agency. Shit! Did my breath smell? I rifled through my pockets and found a packet of mints. Would three be enough? I tipped them into my mouth and started chewing.

  Jo-Anne leaned through the doorway. She was staring at my chest, a frown on her face. I guessed that wasn’t good.

  “Hmm… I think we can do something with that. This way, Miles.”

  Do something with what?!

  The room next door was set up like a small studio with bright, halogen lights, a video camera and a very large and obvious bed in the middle of the room.

  What the hell was going on here? Were they making a porn film? Was I making a porn film?

  Jo-Anne smiled at the expression on my face. I must have looked like a deer gazing down the barrel of a hunter’s rifle – or possibly more nervous than that.

  She answered my unspoken question.

  “I prefer not to use the studio’s casting suites – they’re so cold and impersonal. I find I get a better idea of an actor’s range if it’s in a more neutral environment.”

  She thought her bedroom was ‘neutral’?

  “Try and relax, Miles, it’s not the orthodontist.” Then she muttered to herself, “Although as you’re British that might come later.”

  Huh?

  I stood awkwardly, wishing I at least had my shirt to hide behind, trying to scan through the script and make some meaning from the words swimming in front of me. But my brain was having a serious meltdown. Oh no, not here. Please! Usually Clare helped me prep for script readings. The dyslexia always got worse when I was nervous – like right now. I tried to calm the fuck down and ran my finger under the lines as I tried to read through them slowly. They didn’t seem to make much sense – I started to panic.

  “Okay, Jo-Anne, let’s do this, if we have to, although I don’t see the point… Oh!”

  I heard the sullen tone floating up from the hallway. I turned around and found myself staring into the eyes of one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. Long, glossy hair, jade green eyes, fan-fucking-tastic skin, and oh, so familiar. Shit! Shit! Shit! Lilia Purcell, a bona fide film star since the age of 12. And she was staring – at me! Why hadn’t I put two and two together while I was in Rhonda’s office? Lilia… Lilia Purcell!

  Then her words sank into my numbed brain… if we have to… I don’t see the point… She didn’t want to be here. That much was obvious. I was wasting my time. Wasting her time.

  I felt sick. Then I felt fucking angry, disappointment and frustration crashing through me. Twenty hours and six thousand effing miles. For this.

  Lilia’s look of irritation was replaced by her famous 100 mega-watt smile. I had to hand it to her: the bitch could act.

  “Hi! It’s great to meet you. I’m Lilia.”

  Amazing! As if she’d never said a word, as if I hadn’t heard her casual dismissal of me.

  She held out her hand and automatically I shook it quickly. Her skin was soft and cool. It occurred to me, in a vague way, that she was smaller than I’d imagined; smaller than she looked on screen – actually quite tiny.

  I realized I was still staring, and that she was waiting for me to say something. I felt so fucking inadequate and that made me even more furious. I couldn’t help glaring at her and I was pleased because her fake, fucking smile faltered slightly. Good. In my peripheral vision I could see Jo-Anne raise her eyebrows.

  Oh yeah. Great start to the audition. They were looking for chemistry, damn it!

  “Okay, guys, we’ll read from page 17. This is where Esther first begins to suspect that Nuriel is more than just another student at college.”

  Lilia strolled over to sit on the bed facing the camera, looking totally at ease, flicking her long, shiny hair over her shoulder. I was still staring down at the script, trying to find my place. Trying to remember what I was supposed to be doing. Yeah, acting. Right.

  “Miles, when you’re ready,” said Jo-Anne, not unkindly. “I need you in camera shot: sit next to Lilia, please.”

  Shit. Of course. This was a film test. Was there anything I could do today that wasn’t moronic? Probably not.

  Jo-Anne turned on the video camera.

  “Three, two, one…”

  “You don’t sound like you’re from around here…”

  Lilia’s voice was softer now. I looked up. Jeez! Her eyes were really green.

  “Um, Miles?” Jo-Anne’s voice broke into my dreaming.

  I scrambled to find my line.

  “How do I sound?” I mumbled. Idiotic – that was how.

  Lilia laughed, natural and carefree. I felt like she was laughing at me. I couldn’t help scowling at her again.

  “Other than like you’re from another planet?”

  “I’m trying… to fit in… but it’s harder than I thought.” Too bloody right.

  “Why is it so hard?”

  The next line stuck in my throat. “The people here are so… different. It’s different from what I thought it would be… I feel… different…”

  Lilia leaned toward me, staring into my eyes, her forehead wrinkled with concern. When she put her hand on my knee I nearly jumped. Bitch! She knew what she was doing.

  “Why do you feel different?”

  “Okay, that’s great, guys,” said Jo-Anne. “Miles, good intensity but could you try it with an American accent this time?”

  Fuck. Of course.

  Clare

  “Oh, come on! Lady Macbeth is just a cipher for Shakespeare’s misogynistic views: all that ‘unsex me’ stuff!”

  I was vaguely aware that Tasha was on a roll. Ever since she’d read ‘Man Made Language’ she saw sexism everywhere. If it was the 70s, she’d be burning her bra, although she’d have to take out the padding first.

  The tutorial room was hot and stuffy, typical of London during a late Spring morning. My jeans were too thick and heavy for the unexpected heat wave and my armpits were already damp. But instead of nodding off while Tasha sparred with Professor Herring, I felt anxious. Miles had emailed me during the night to say that his phone didn’t work and that he was going straight to an audition. The bastards hadn’t even let him recover from the journey. In fact, he’d have had the audition by now and was probably in bed. I tried not to dwell on that tempting image.

  It was really unfair to expect him to perform when he’d been traveling for the best part of 24 hours. He’d said LA would be tough; I just hadn’t realized it would be inhuman.

  “And what is your opinion, Clare?” said Professor Herring, inconsiderately breaking into my worrying.

  Miles

  Second
time around I nailed the American accent. Lilia blinked in surprise. I couldn’t help a small smile. Yeah! Bring it on!

  “That was good, Miles,” said Jo-Anne. “Lilia, could you just try your part again: try to sound more concerned and less smug.”

  Smug! Yeah, bitch!

  Lilia frowned. I was liking Jo-Anne a lot at this point.

  We went through the scene one more time. I nailed it again. Yes!

  “Okay, good, you guys,” said Jo-Anne. “Let’s just do the scene in Esther’s bedroom. Page 35, Miles.”

  Bedroom scene? What? Oh, shit. I struggled to find the right page, feeling sweatier and more uncoordinated by the second. What happened in that scene? Fuck – we had to kiss. Thank God for the mints.

  I hated kissing people I worked with. It was so weird, being that intimate with someone you didn’t know – especially sober. It was almost more intimate than getting naked – not that I had a lot of experience of that when it came to acting for a film. Okay, well, none. I wondered what it must be like to have to do a love scene – that must be… Focus! Kissing scene! I just had to remember: no tongues.

  Lilia shimmied up the bed, sitting cross-legged. I sat awkwardly on the corner, trying to avoid impaling my balls on the short bedpost. But at least it helped me focus. Concentrate, moron!

  “Okay, Lilia,” said Jo-Anne. “Three, two, one…”

  “Nuriel! What are you doing here? If my mom catches you…”

  “She won’t. She’s sleeping. Esther… I had to see you. There’s something I have to tell you… about me…”

  “I don’t care! It doesn’t matter… not to me…”

  Lilia crawled toward me across the bed, looking as sexy as hell. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her mouth was slightly open and she was staring into my eyes. Then her arms were around my neck and I could feel her breath on my face. She even smelled good. And my stupid, fucking, moronic body took over. I dropped the script and kissed her hard, pushing her back down on the bed.

  “Okay, you guys,” said Jo-Anne, bringing me down to earth suddenly.

  I opened my eyes. Lilia was lying on the bed, a look of astonishment on her face. I flushed. If I was lucky they’d just kick me out; if I wasn’t, Lilia would be calling the cops and I’d be charged with assault. Any second now…

  “Well… let’s try that again,” said Jo-Anne, mildly. “Nice improvisation, Miles, but see if you can stick to the script.”

  From the corner of my eye I saw Lilia smirking at me.

  I shook my head, trying to clear the sensation of kissing her soft lips. Concentrate!

  “Three, two, one…”

  “Nuriel! What are you doing here? If my mom catches you…”

  “She won’t. She’s sleeping. Esther… I had to see you. There’s something I have to tell you… about me…”

  “I don’t care! It doesn’t matter… not to me…”

  She stared at me and I stared back. I raised one hand to her cheek and let it hover there. She sighed and leaned her head into my hand. I felt like I’d been stung. I jerked my hand back and frowned at her. Lilia looked puzzled and then – pain flared briefly behind her eyes. I’d hurt her feelings. Or maybe she was acting. How the hell was I supposed to know? Maybe that was what drama school taught real actors. It was so confusing. I’d never behaved like this in an audition before. Damn, Lilia was good.

  “Interesting, you guys,” said Jo-Anne, with a straight face. I’d no idea what she was really thinking. “I like what you’re doing there, Miles. Okay, let’s do it one more time.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “Three, two, one…”

  “Nuriel! What are you doing here? If my mom catches you…”

  “She won’t. She’s sleeping. Esther… I had to see you. There’s something I have to tell you… about me…”

  “I don’t care! It doesn’t matter… not to me…”

  I raised my hand to her cheek again and her look was blazing. I blinked and closed my eyes. Maybe that would make it easier. But I opened them too soon and she was staring at me again. What the hell? I tried to remember the script. Kiss her! Kiss her! I leaned in, my eyes still locked on hers and very slowly, our lips touched for the second time.

  Lilia launched herself at me, and this time I was the one knocked backward onto the bed.

  “Fuck!”

  “Cut!” said Jo-Anne, laughing.

  Lilia giggled at my expression, and I felt a smile steal reluctantly across my face.

  “That’s great, you guys!” said Jo-Anne.

  The Awakening

  Miles

  The light was too bright. I struggled to wake up. Where the hell…? Then I remembered. Oh. I’d forgotten to pull the curtains and daylight was flooding into Rhonda’s guestroom. Daylight? I sat up blinking, feeling confused, and the memories of the day before – days before – came flooding back. Yes, I’d really met Lilia Purcell and she’d been… okay. Nice. I mean, God, she was gorgeous. Just thinking about her pushing me back on the bed during the audition started a train of thought that was definitely not conducive to getting up. Well, not all of me.

  I frowned at the tent that I was pitching under the sheet and tried to ignore it. I looked at my phone to see what time it was. Oh yeah, I’d turned it off. I needed to get an adaptor for my charger if I was going to be able to use it, and I needed to find an internet café so I could email Clare again. She’d be sending out search and rescue if I didn’t stay in touch regularly. I rolled my eyes – her overprotectiveness could be really irritating sometimes, even though I knew it came from a good place. I wondered what she was doing now. What time was it there? I didn’t know. It was eight hours difference, but I couldn’t remember if London was ahead or behind. Whatever.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and watched the room spin slowly – I must have had too much of Rhonda’s expensive bourbon last night – by which point I’d been awake for about 36 hours. I fumbled for my jeans. They were lying in a heap on the floor where I’d dropped them last night. My case was in the corner, still packed, so I rifled through it and found a black t-shirt that was slightly less creased than the rest. At least I wasn’t going to need a jacket – it was a balmy seventy degrees every day. I didn’t have any particular plans but I thought I’d head into town – wherever that was – maybe do some sightseeing while I was there.

  Rhonda said she was working on getting me some more auditions, but for now I was free of responsibility or commitment. It felt good.

  It was exciting, too, the thought of being on the loose in Hollywood, home of the world’s hottest women – and Lilia Purcell. Hmm, best not to think about her – stick to reality, not fantasy. I suddenly realized that I was starving. I wondered what the protocol was for rummaging through my agent’s fridge. Maybe I should find a coffee shop instead.

  But more than food, I wanted a shower. I pulled on my jeans, not bothering with the buttons, and stumbled off to the bathroom.

  “Dios mio!”

  A short, dumpy Hispanic woman was staring at me in horror. What? I didn’t know who was most shocked but when she started to back away from me, crossing herself as she went and clasping her hands in prayer, I reckoned it was probably her. Shit! She must have thought I was some sort of intruder!

  “No! Wait”

  She turned and ran, screaming as she went.

  Shit! What if she called the police?

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  Rhonda. Thank God.

  She strode up the stairs and gaped when she saw me.

  “Miles! What are you doing?”

  “I… I was just going to have a shower. And… and she… that woman… she just started screaming!”

  Rhonda looked bemused for a second and then smiled.

  “Adelita,” she called to the quaking woman hiding behind her, “this is my house guest Miles. Miles, meet Adelita, my housekeeper.”

  “Er… hi. Nice to meet you,” I stammered. Could that have been any more embarras
sing? I made a grab for my jeans before they headed further south and I caught the fearful look Adelita threw at Rhonda before she mumbled something in Spanish. Rhonda replied and Adelita’s stance relaxed. She nodded at me, smiled shyly then wandered back down the stairs muttering to herself.

  I was still holding up my jeans and feeling like a complete twat.

  “Er, is everything okay?”

  Rhonda smiled broadly. “Oh sure! First she thought you were a rapist and then she thought you were my lover…”

  I was pretty certain my face was the color of a London bus.

  “…which surprised her considerably since she knows I’m a lesbian.”

  “Oh!” I croaked, my voice unrecognizable to my own ears. “Right.”

  “Go take a shower, Miles, we need to talk,” said Rhonda, still smiling to herself.

  Shit. That was embarrassing.

  I stumbled into the bathroom and let the shower ease some of the sudden tension in my shoulders. I leaned my hands against the cool tiles while the water poured over my head. It was soothing. And Rhonda – or probably Adelita – had left out some expensive-smelling bodywash.

  I didn’t know how long I’d been standing under the hot jets but I felt a whole lot better when I staggered out. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It wasn’t steamed up: Rhonda must have had one of those fancy, heated mirrors – not that I was planning on shaving today.

  Yeah, this place screamed serious money: like Jo-Anne’s place. The thought made me frown – and what did Rhonda want to tell me? If it was good news she’d have just said, wouldn’t she?

  Rhonda was waiting for me in her home office.

  “Miles, take a seat.”

  Her voice was clipped and cool. I wondered if agents practiced that. She waited, her face closed and unreadable, while I sat on the hard leather chair next to her desk. Everything was happening in slow motion, my career, my life, unraveling in bullet-time – cue the extreme close-up of my nervous twitch. Just to add to the impending humiliation, my stomach rumbled loudly, and I remembered I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten much yesterday – probably the memory of having to take my shirt off in front of Jo-Anne and Lilia.