Acting Royal #Wattys2017

Chapter 1a

"Count me in." Jenny jumped up excitedly almost tripping over the tattered edge of her coffee stained carpet. "Just tell me where and when and what to wear and I'll be there." There was a short silence on the phone. "This is the other strange thing. The casting is in the Penthouse at the Lord Nelson Hotel, and it says not to dress sexy."

"Not to dress sexy? Well, that's a first."

**

Two hours later Jenny found herself standing in the reception of the Lord Nelson Hotel in Bantry Bay. She suspected someone might need to scrape her jaw off the floor with a spatula, because this was by far the most lavish, over-the-top place she'd ever seen. Crystal chandeliers the size of small cars hung from the triple volume ceiling. An enormous glass lift dominated the opposite side of the room, and the gold lettering next to it read "Penthouse".

You know you're loaded when your hotel room has its own lift!

Jenny began walking across the room and glanced down at her small feet shuffling across the glittering marble surface; she desperately needed a pedicure and her old leather sandals had definitely seen better days, in fact, her feet looked so out of place on the impossibly shiny floors that she felt a sting of self-consciousness rush through her.

The ride up to the penthouse was ridiculously fast. Even though it was located on the 22nd floor this was clearly the fastest lift that had ever been built in the history of humankind. The glass lift concluded its speedy ride with a melodic 'ping' and Jenny couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped her lips as the designer doors slid open with a pleasant-sounding swoosh.

The Penthouse was like nothing she'd ever seen before, and stepping into it, felt like stepping onto an unfamiliar alien planet. This was where Hollywood movie stars stayed, Fortune 500 Billionaires were made, and members of the royal family played. And judging by the looks on all the slash- actress's faces, she wasn't the only one thinking it. The scene was almost comical.

Huddled in the corner of the most enormous room she'd ever been in, was a group of about twenty whispering woman. Every now and then one would glance around nervously, as if she expected some kind of terrifying monster to jump out of the shadows and bite her. Jenny had no desire to join the huddle, but was curious to know what they were saying–

"And there's no Script." Said the blonde with the gravity defying bosoms.

"My agent says it's more like a job interview." Said Botox face.

"But for what?" asked the brunette with the legs that stopped somewhere around her ear lobes.

"I don't care what it's for. I'd do anything for that kind of dough." Said a particularly sultry looking woman with a behind that would make a Kardashian envious. Jenny recognized her from a local daytime drama in which she'd played the evil, slutty villain who slept with everyone's husband. (Seeing her in the flesh, she wondered just how much art imitated life?) Jenny also wondered if any of them had gotten the memo about 'not dressing sexy?' Because they all looked like they were ready to shoot their close-up in the big sex scene.

Who was she kidding? She was definitely the very ugly duckling in this group. There was no way she could compete with these lip-glossed bombshells, and decided to make a quick exit before anyone saw her. But as she'd managed to slide her way back to the lift, something stopped her dead in her tracks–

The most striking and refined voice she'd ever heard cut through the muffled chatter of the room. The voice introduced himself as Rafiq Al-Asiri and told everyone to follow him into the next room. Something about him was so commanding, that she couldn't help but obey. Jenny and the other actresses were ushered into the next room and the usual procedure then followed quickly.

When it was her turn, Jenny squared off in front of the camera and smiled. But suddenly she felt very nervous, more nervous than she'd ever been for an audition. She was so blatantly out of place here, that she was positive this man with the refined voice was going to laugh at her and send her home immediately. Only he didn't and gestured for her to carry on. So she did.

"Hi, my name is Jenny Simm," she tried to stop her voice from shaking, "I'm 24 years old and my agent is Stars." Jenny then turned profile, and profile again, and raised her hands for the camera.

"Thank you, Miss. Simm." Mister refined voice said, "Could you please tell me a little about yourself?"

"About what ads I've been in?" she asked.

"No. I'm not interested in that kind of thing. I'd like you to tell me a little about who you are." He smiled at her and she was floored. This was unlike any casting she'd ever been to, in fact, it felt more like a job interview. But she did as she was told.

"Sure." She struggled to conceal her growing anxiety. "Well, I'm 24. Oh, I've already said that. I grew up in a small farming town in the middle of nowhere, which was great. I spent a lot of time outdoors helping my dad on the farm, so I'm not afraid of hard work." She knew she was rambling, but she also couldn't stop herself. "I have a degree in english literature even though my parents wanted me to study agriculture so I could take over the farm one day. Apparently I'm wasting my time with stuff like that and certainly wasting my time trying to be an actress." She scoffed loudly at her last statement. She couldn't help it.

The man with the refined voice smiled at her. "And how is that going for you? Trying to be an actress."

Jenny glanced at the slash-actresses who were all re-touching their already perfect hair and make-up. Yup, she was kidding no one? There was no way she was getting this job, so technically, she had nothing to lose.

"Terribly." The honesty flew out of her. "I have exactly..." Jenny scrounged in her old handbag pulling out her wallet and looking inside, "... fifty Rand and twenty-two cents to my name. Which means I can't pay my rent this month, so I'm sure I'll be homeless and busking on a street corner in a clown suit in a week or so. Not to mention won't be able to feed myself- although I guess I could afford to lose a pound or ten- maybe then I would get a gig, because I haven't booked a single job in almost two years. Not because I'm a bad actress, I'm really, really good actually, but because I don't look like that." She gestured to the actresses behind her who were all watching her now in amusement. "Anyway, I'll get going now, you have a lot of people to get through. Have a good day and thanks for the opportunity." She gave him a small wave and started walking out, but his voice stopped her once again.

"Where are you going, Miss Simm?" This woman intrigued Rafiq. Such honesty was rare and refreshing.

Jenny chuckled, gesturing at the other actresses again. "Look around. Clearly I'm the ugly stepsister here. They all look like they've stepped out of a hair commercial, have you seen mine..." Jenny was on a roll now. She'd opened the floodgates of honesty and now there was no shutting them. She released her hair from its ponytail and boisterous curls tumbled over her shoulders.

"And this is a good hair day!" She blew some of the rebellious strands out of her face. "Oh, and these are contact lenses. I wear glasses. Not very sexy. But... I can discuss the role of feminism in early twentieth-century writing, if you want?" she added sarcastically. "Or maybe you'd like a monologue from Macbeth? Nah, I didn't think so." She shrugged her shoulders.

Rafiq tried to hide his smile, but was enchanted with this woman. She was a breath of fresh air in an otherwise very stale room.

Jenny saw the man behind the camera biting back a smile, and suddenly she felt very offended. "Are you laughing at me now?" she raised an accusing finger at him "Well, that's just plane rude. I'm sorry, but no amount of money is worth this kind of treatment!"

And with that, she turned and swaggered out the room, missing a small step and tripping as she went. Rafiq smiled even more, picked up his phone and dialed....

"Zayn, I've found her. And she's perfect."