The rest of Tuesday and Wednesday were dragged out. 48 hours feeling more like 72 until Thursday morning came around, and I was suddenly wanting to go back.
Half my morning was spent getting ready while the other half was trying to calm my nerves and playing detective. My thoughts had morphed from worries about how I should look when I walked in, to the other girls there, to the mystery artist and back to my looks.
I shouldn't have spent as much time as I did on my makeup and hair. But I wanted to look somewhat pretty before walking in, in hopes that they wouldn't do much revision. Which would give me the sign I needed, telling me I had mirrored the mood of the video on my own. And that ultimately, they approved.
After spending more than half an hour on hair and makeup, I changed into another simple outfit. Knowing it would be stripped off and replaced by whatever costume the director and stylist had in mind.
Snatching an apple off the counter, I whisked out the door and down to Julie's car where she was waiting directly outside the residence.
She turned down the radio as I hopped in and gave me a smile and a pat on the back. "You look great. Are you nervous?"
"Kind of," I said, which wasn't totally a lie. Of course I was nervous, I had been for the past two days. But I also felt sort of peaceful. A small voice in the back of my head softly reminded me that even if I didn't make it past dress rehearsals, it still would have been a great experience. It would help me in the future, giving me more experience each time until I eventually made the cut, and I was okay with this.
Though, without this rational little voice, my stomach would have been turned inside out by now.
"You'll do fine." Julie concluded before we sped off.
The ride was a blur, just like the scenery outside the window. The whole time I was lost in a whirlwind of my own thoughts, going through different scenarios and testing my professionalism. I didn't snap out of it until the car parked in front of a large building and Julie stepped out, calling my name before closing the driver's door.
I fumbled with the seatbelt for a second before leaping out the car and quickly catching up to Julie as she pulled open the building door and allowed me to go in first. It was well air-conditioned, just like the building we had been in days ago, and raised little goosebumps on my skin as we walked further in. Julie led the way while I turned my head this way and that, taking in the halls and lines of doors.
We eventually made it to a waiting room where Julie signed in with another receptionist. She told us to walk on by into another waiting room filled with various dancers and actors alike, adding that Julie would have to return to the first waiting room until I'd finished.
"I wouldn't even stick around, the callback is said to last a few hours, but if you give me your number I can call to let you know when to pick Tatiana up." She informed us sweetly, and my agent happily complied.
After I gave a little wave of farewell, I pushed open the door and slid into the waiting room for others auditioning. It was buzzing with excitement; people huddled in small groups to discuss the event ahead. I picked a seat not far off from one of these jittery groups, eavesdropping on their conversation to hold me over until I was called.
They were trying to whisper in voices brimming with enthusiasm, but it was failing them. Each time they agreed on their nervousness, one of the girl's voices got high and shrill and the others had to shush her with elated giggles. Throughout their entire conversation that I was present nearby for, they never once said the name of the artist. I suspected everyone here knew, or had a clue. Julie said she was able to tell me who the artist was at this point, but she continued to keep it secret just to surprise me. And it worked so far, I still didn't know for sure who this artist was by the time a man came through the door and singled me out. But I had a clue. It had to be a big artist. Someone like Prince or Michael Jackson based on the dreamy tone in most of the girls' voices.
When the man gestured me over to the door, I followed behind him in silence, my own nervousness spilling over. I was about to find out the artist.
The man led me into a room that I had expected to be the room where I did my final audition. It wasn't. I walked in, my eyes falling first on the racks of dresses and outfits off to the sides of the walls. Then I acknowledged the other person in the room, a short blond woman holding a thin black dress in one hand. She waved and I waved back before we immediately got down to business.
I tried on the short black dress with the black heeled boots I brought. The dress had an open back where my shoulder blades were exposed, along with a couple inches of my lower back. It hugged every curve on my body and felt soft on my skin. The length went down to the middle of my thighs and covered my butt well.
We had some debate about adding a necklace and even tried some on. They didn't look right with the dress no matter the size. In the end we trashed the idea and moved onto the next article of clothing.
The blond woman, who went by Glammer—some sort of stage name—presented me with some brown stockings. I tried them on, feeling comfortable and slightly warmer than when my legs were bare under the dress.
When I expressed this, Glammer shook her head and laughed softly but said nothing.
To wrap the look up, I suggested wearing my bangles brought from home. I slipped them on to show and she agreed whole-heartedly.
Once we were finished I stood in the middle of the dressing room, my entire outfit on. I felt a flash of dejavu looking in the mirror, but it was gone in an instant.
We were now ready to migrate to a different room.
The man who singled me out in the waiting room took the lead once more as we walked down another small hallway and into yet another room.
The man shifted behind me to gently close the door and lock me in the room with a group of people sitting off to my left. The first man I spotted was average looking, with a baseball cap pulled down over his face, hiding most of his features. He was hunched forward, and upon hearing our arrival, leaned back in his seat, revealing the second man beside him. A short, stocky man wearing a black suit with long hair pulled backward into a tight ponytail. He had a hefty sized cigar wedged between his lips, something that definitely made him stand out from the others. The third person I noticed was a lean and tall man with light brown hair cut short on his head. He was the only person not sitting with the group and drew my attention away from them before I'd finished scrutinizing.
"Tatiana Thumbtzen?" He asked as I moved to the middle of the room, and I nodded in confirmation. "Great, I'm Vince Paterson, the choreographer for the music video. Come on up here on the stage and we can get started."
I did as instructed, standing with my hands on both hips to stop the sweating of my palms. From here I looked down at Vince until he guided my attention back up to the people sitting behind him.
Standing from his seat was a very tall man, past 6 feet with shoulder length hair an odd mixture of grey and brown. He commanded my attention; introducing himself shortly as Joe Pytka, the video director, before immediately going over the routine and telling me exactly what he wanted. I was focused so intently on him while he spoke that once he was finished, I was able to snatch a quick glimpse at the last person in the room.
Dressed in a red, long sleeve button up shirt with black pants and black loafers was a sublimely tanned man. The side of his head rested gently on his hand while stringy jet black curls framed his face, tracing a curvy trail down to his sharp jawline. His nose, outlined against the background of the room, curved upward, providing an upturned look. It complimented his side profile exceedingly well and connected to his face, looking natural. Eyes a magical hue of murky hickory, as deep as the lowest valley and wide as the most beautiful rivers pierced through mine, momentarily stealing the air from my lungs. It only took a few seconds—which in the slowed down time felt like eternity—to realize who this mystery artist truly was.
It was Michael Jackson.
A millisecond after the realization hit, I averted my gaze and Joe told me to start my performance.
Had I continued to stare at the famed pop star like a confused deer in headlights, my mind would have blanked and I would have zoned out, growing utterly lost in that pair of eyes. I would have stood frozen like a sculpture of ice as I tried to comprehend my situation, making a fool of myself. That most likely would have resulted in me shriveling up and dying of embarrassment.
And we wouldn't want that, would we?
Taking a deep breath, I decided to keep my focus directed solely on my job today and on Vince, who was giving me snippets of advice as I did what Joe wanted.
There was a small speaker beside him and it started to play the intro to Michael Jackson's song, The Way You Make Me Feel. It was the third single from his Bad album, and the song I was auditioning to play the lead female role for in his music video.
I'll admit, it was incredibly hard to ignore Michael. He was practically glowing in his seat and I could feel his gaze on me. It felt like he was trying to see through me, or perhaps he was just a very attentive person. I caught myself sneaking peeks at him to see what he was thinking when I followed Joe's directions and tweaked some movements.
The costume I wore snuggly with my own touches added on really helped to shape up my mindset for the role. Soon, I found myself imagining I was walking down the street, passing by a group of scraggly men hollering and cooing at me, when I was truly walking past the group of people in that small room. I flipped my hair over my shoulder, looking them up and down before scoffing and whirling on my heels to saunter the other way. I connected with the beat on the speaker, timing my walk to allow my foot to hit the ground at every other beat, making it look smoother. It was as if the room disappeared and it was just me, the music, street, and the fictional guys still clamoring for my attention.
There was a momentary pause in my routine when Vince was asked to bring in some other actors to perform with me. I kept my eyes on the floor of the wooden stage; watching my toe tap the polished surface while I waited. Finally, five guys and three girls arrived and Vince hopped up on the stage to position us. The nine of us—including me—went through the routine another few times.
It felt natural to act out my part when I had the actual embodiment of the persistent male characters there in front of me. Throwing my hands up and indulging in a fair amount of sass was easier. My imagination didn't have to work overtime.
The actors were eventually dismissed after the last run-through and to wrap up the callback I did my solo routine four more times. When I finished and stepped back into the middle of the stage, I watched Vince whisper something to Michael. He responded with a tiny shake of his head and a bashful smile. I watched him a moment longer, almost trying to catch his eye, but his gaze was on the man in the sports cap beside him as he uttered something.
Finally, Vince returned to switch the speaker off and I relaxed. I hadn't expected applause; it wasn't common in my previous auditions, but when they did, I was more than happy to accept it. I even humored them with a grand bow, my lips stretched into a wide grin.
My job was done, and thus, I peeked up from under my eyelashes and properly searched the face of the superstar in the room.
His soft pink lips were pulled up in a big, happy grin, his head still bopping forward even after the music ended. He glanced at me before leaning to his left where the man with the low cap sat scribbling something on a piece of paper. They exchanged a few words, inaudible to me, because Vince was speaking again.
"Very good, Tatiana!" He praised, his own lips pulled into a smile.
Joe, who had been relatively silent towards the end of my rehearsal, spoke up as well. "Yes, you did a great job."
I felt my cheeks flush at the approval and I let out an airy giggle. "Thank you."
"We'll send you back to the waiting room now. Everyone will be released at the end of the day, so you might be in there for a while. And don't call us, we'll call you." Joe added, thus dismissing me.
"Don't lose my number." I said comically, the words flowing quickly from my mouth without time to deliberate them.
I also didn't have time to steal another look at Michael before I was escorted to the door by the choreographer. But I could feel myself relaxing further. It was over, I had done it and I had done it well.
My fate was up to them, but I was content in knowing I did what I could.