I wake up at 4 a.m. and so tense I could produce energy drinks by simply speed-shaking my hands.
Three weeks. In only three weeks Amanda’s friend could be here. I need headshots. I need a copy of Robert’s film and an edited piece of my chomping debut from Jazz Rocks. I need my monologue performance to hit him right in the right brain cell so that he would see me as the new face he’s been looking for.
I sit up and grab all the papers with my notes, but nothing seems to make sense.
Lisa’s character still feels alien to me.
She’s insane.
What was I thinking?
I’ve seen girls do this part in school and it almost always sucks, and the other times it’s just boring. I should’ve chosen something calm and romantic and use my experience with Maxim for sense memory. I could make myself remember all the times when…yeah, when we what? He was probably always in love with her.
Damn him! Damn Maxim Romano.
I hate him so much.
Junior probably told him about me and Andy and he did nothing. He didn’t care. He’s probably holding Nadine as I’m holding this book right now.
I feel anger invading my entire body. How could I ever fall so much for a guy? He’s ruining everything. Why can’t I get over him? Why can’t I be happy with what I have now?
I stare at the monologue until it suddenly dawns on me. I could use Maxim as a person I talk to. I could bring back all the memories and then simply kill them with these words. In the movie, the poor girl commits suicide after Lisa’s speech, so she must inspire destruction and death, which is exactly what I need right now.
I scribble down some ideas and go back to bed, angrily mumbling the monologue. But soon, my evil thoughts turn into a vivid image of a big Academy Awards Ceremony. And by the time I have visualized my long dark blue satin dress and my pushed back hair in front of many camera flashes, I’m slowly falling asleep.
Three days I half-snooze through comedy shows and movie trailers ready to die from boredom. I still can’t believe I haven’t heard back from Nick. I’ve called him so many times that he should be sure I’m a stalker by now, which he probably is, since he’s playing dead. Or maybe has lost his memory after too many Elitinis in his system.
I don’t feel confident enough to go downtown alone and ask this Jeremy guy about his marriage plans. I mean what would I say? Hey, how are you! Maybe you could marry me instead of that Ukrainian girl? Maybe I have no urge to travel to Ukraine but, trust me, I’ve got big plans.
My phone makes a sudden noise and I almost fall off my bed in alarm.
‘Going out tonight. You, me and Italia.’
I smile widely at Claire’s message.
Today is February 29?
What was I planning to do on February 29? There was something…
Shit. The theatre project!
I forgot. Completely haven’t thought about the thing till now.
Panic. I can only panic.
No. No panic. I’m a professional. I don’t need to prepare – I’m a natural.
Bullshit.
Panic!
I dive into my closet for some clean clothes, but unfortunately bored days mean lazy days and the only clean things I have that look fine together is a pair of dark blue jeans and an equally navy blue turtleneck. Blue and blue? Eh sure, why not. Theatres are about dark clothing anyways.
I storm out and in ten minutes finally get a seat on my beloved 6 train. With my temples still pounding from the rush, I try to think of any well-rehearsed monologues. I wish I had one with a neurotic fast paced woman who’s being chased after a bank robbery. That would be such a no-brainer right now.
I fly up the station stairs and try to locate the Southeast side of Houston Street. With the address still in my hand I soon start seeing a long line of people gathering outside a building that suspiciously looks like an artistic Off-Broadway space.
‘Hey! Er…are you here for the…’ I try to breathe the words out.
‘We all are,’ a skinny guy behind me answers and almost pushes me forward.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. Were you in line?’ I slightly lower my head to match his size.
‘NO. But I am now. Are YOU in line?’ His tiny body and screechy voice for some reason makes me think of Pinocchio.
‘Er…yes. Yes, I am,’ I steady my panting and take a better look around.
My goodness, actors can look…creepy. I see a guy in front of me with hair that’s made into two long ponytails. Since he’s wearing very masculine jeans it’s possible to tell the gender, but otherwise. Then I spot a girl who is pacing up and down the opposite side of the street, mumbling and reading from a soft-cover manuscript. Her focus is more than fierce, especially seeing that she can effortlessly memorize from the first reading. Then she starts yelling to some imaginary character and circles her arms high in the air. My, I wish I had her stamina.
‘Do you have fire?’ someone asks from behind.
I look back and see a…Greek God? The man is about six feet tall with slightly wavy char black hair and a two-day beard. With his posture and muscles he won’t even need to act. They will cast him just to be able to stare at him. And if there’s no king, warrior or terminator in the play, then they will create one. This guy was born to act someone BIG.
My God, my God. My God, my Greek God.
I can’t do this. I don’t fit in here. These people are real actors – devoted and natural. I can only think about the glamorous lifestyle and my face on the big screen. I’ve never actually imagined what it would take to get that far. But if these people are so good and still standing outside a small Houston Street theatre and not gathering in front of the camera on the red carpet!?
What am I hoping for?
I try to push my elbows through the thickening lines. Somehow people seem to be forming more of a crowd as it gets closer to the door.
Then the door opens and with a quick swing I am in, trapped between the stage door and the exit door with a bunch of others. It would’ve been so easy to just run, not looking back and simply picking up the speed down Houston. Why didn’t I do that?
A young assistant comes out and shouts, ‘Next!’
I feel my body almost airlifted in by the Greek God behind me and find myself standing on a stage with a couple of overwhelmingly bright lights blinding my eyes. I can smell the statuesque body breathing over my shoulder and someone tiny on my left. I guess they allow three people per set.
I should have run when I had the chance.
Now I’m locked between a troll and a mountain.
‘OK, names!’ a husky female voice utters from somewhere behind the lights.
‘Dmitry Orlov.’
‘Mike Dusky.’
‘…Elize Lapsene,’ I hear my trembling voice echo far up front. Must be a big room behind those lights.
‘OK,’ she says, and I swear I can hear someone whispering Robert’s name, ‘So, you’re in a small bank office. There’s been a robbery and the bad guys have just left. You have three minutes for the following reaction. Go!’
I take a deep breath. The skinny starts pacing up and down the stage. Dmitry hits one hand against the other and tries to find a chair to sit on. And I…I just feel stoned and shocked at the same time. I want to do something. Something that would make sense. I need to say something.
Come on! Come on!
Nope, I’m numb.
Dmitry sits down and rubs his hands against his ears. The skinny is simply walking around touching things. I check my pockets and then touch my belly and hips. Then, try to remember something for a minute.
‘I think I’ve lost my mobile,’ I make an irritated face and immediately hear a little giggle coming from the audience side. Oh, my God. There are people actually watching this?
My forehead wrinkles in disgust and I think I’m going to be sick.
‘OK, thank you. We’ll contact you within a two months’ time for further job opportunities, if we’re interested,’ the voice resumes and the assistant comes out again to push us off the stage.
‘I’m sorry. I think I’ve lost my mobile,’ I try to explain before he pulls the back door open and ushers us out. I hear the same giggle again, only this time much louder.
Job opportunities?
How the hell you’re gonna call me if I don’t find my phone?
We exit and are forwarded towards a big black door with a red sign that says Emergency Exit.
‘Excuse me!’ I decide to feign another emergency. ‘Is there are bathroom in here?’
The assistant looks at me, annoyed, ‘Sure. Take this corridor to the end and then on the left.’
I walk down the mentioned corridor and notice the crowded waiting room through an open door crack. Maybe this cloud has a silver lining after all. Maybe my phone’s still around there somewhere. I wait until the assistant is out of sight and sneak back into the previous room.
‘Hey, isn’t this yours?’ a friendly looking guy hands me my phone.
‘Oh, thanks. Yes. Thank you so much. I thought I’d lost it,’ I grab it and examine it to make sure it is, in fact, my phone.
‘How is it?’ he sticks his hands in the pockets.
‘Eh?’
‘In there? How is it?’ he looks at me curiously.
‘Oh, not too bad. They’ll describe a situation and give you three minutes for a reaction,’ I explain absentmindedly. ‘Piece of cake.’
‘That’s it?’ he looks bewildered.
‘Yup,’ I shrug.
‘Just to think how hard it was to get here. I had to beg my agent for weeks to get me signed up for this.’
‘Really?’ Maybe Robert’s connections are a bit big after all. I mean I didn’t even ask. His secretary simply extended the offer. ‘So who’s your agent?’ I try to sound cool.
‘Brown. Who’s yours?’ he looks at me with scary seriousness.
‘Oh, you’re with Brown? Wow. Lucky you. You must be really good then.’ I shoot for small talk before I have to come up with some real lies, ‘OK, looks like you’re up next. Good luck. Break a leg!’
I step back and take a sharp turn towards the exit, figuring that if I don’t look back he won’t have a chance to ask me any more questions.
As I get out on the street I run into Dmitry and the skinny smoking together.
‘So, did you find it?’ Dmitry’s voice sounds as powerful as before.
‘Yes, I did,’ I grin tightly and keep walking.
They look like they would love to engage in a little actor chat, but my mind is already somewhere else. I must get myself some appointments with agents. Obviously they have access to all the good auditions (considering this was a good audition). And maybe even find this Brown guy.