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“Perfect. I will text you the time and place,” he says.
Still on the line, I stop in front of the mirror to check myself. Marlene did a great job with my hair, and my face does look a bit perkier than yesterday, but it’s nothing miraculous. Ninety-nine-cent face masks rarely are. “Do I have to bring anything, or dress a certain way?” Usually, casting agents specify a dress code so they can better visualize the character.
“Not at all. Just dress casually, like you would every day. We already have your information and your photos.”
“Okay. Thank you so much.”
“Have a great day, and we’ll see you later.”
I struggle to keep my voice level. “Thank you. You too.”
When I hang up, I throw myself backwards on the bed, jiggling my arms and feet around like a kid who just got her dream present. I, Jane Myers, am auditioning for an acting job with a life-changing payout today. Maybe things are finally looking up for me.
While the potential income is a big deal, it’s the acting perspective that really has my adrenaline surging. Every time I step on stage, I come alive. I hope there’s theatre involved, since they mentioned improv skills. The moment I fell in love with acting is still etched in my brain. It was the opening night of The Last of Us onstage two summers ago. I knew I had a knack for acting from the classes and rehearsals, but being on stage was something else. The warm light embracing me, the murmurs of the audience as I made my entrance, the way I connected with the enraptured audience members as I delivered my lines. All eyes were on me. At that moment, I wasn’t the overlooked girl from foster care, the stranger in someone else's story. I was a beacon of light, their first guide into this new adventure. And I would give anything to feel that way again.
3
Audition Day
Colton
This has been the worst night of my life. Yes, night. We were forced to come in after hours since the whole thing isn’t exactly legit. Jennifer is helping us run this ordeal. Right now, I’m slumped in my chair behind a tinted window, watching a flock of girls saunter in and answer Max’s questions. You’d think a guy would love gawking at women parading in front of him for hours. Well, not this guy. I’m a businessman. I have bigger fish to fry. But at the same time, I can’t let Max decide who I’m going to marry. So here we are. I still can’t believe this is what my life has come to.
Thanks to a microphone installed in the audition room, I can hear what’s happening behind the glass. They all look nice enough, most of them are pleasing to the eye, and some are even my type. But do I want to marry any of them? Absolutely not. Nothing against these women. I just don’t want this. The whole marriage thing is completely against my will. Well, almost. But I have a right to be dramatic today. It’s not every day I have to choose a wife to grow my business.
We spent all of yesterday and this morning scouring endless applications and pictures, and we selected only thirty women. Yet it already feels like hundreds. Jennifer lets them in one at a time, and they each introduce themselves and talk about their acting background. Max then asks them about their personal lives. Whether they have another job they’re willing to quit, if they’re free to travel, what their hobbies are, et cetera. Not that I really want to be compatible with my wife—goodness, this is ridiculous—but it’d be nice if we had something in common. We’ll have to go on a few dates together, after all. Finally, Max asks them to act. Pretending to greet people at a charity event, for example.
I’m yawning and reading a long report on my phone when a nervous laugh grabs my attention. It belongs to a brunette with blond highlights and striking light-blue eyes. Or are they gray, like mine? Standing up, I walk to the window to get a better look. Definitely blue, but almost gray. She’s average height—maybe five-seven—and she’s not wearing heels. I’m surprised to see she’s dressed simply in a stylish sky-blue blouse and a pair of skinny jeans. Most of the other girls wore heels, skirts, and dresses, so her casual outfit is oddly refreshing. It’s down-to-earth and doesn’t scream for attention. Max did ask that they dress like they do every day. For once, I think someone actually followed the rule.
“So, Jane.” Max studies a sheet of paper in front of him. “Can you tell me about yourself? Where are you from? Do you have another job? If so, would you be willing to quit it? What about your friends and family, are you close to them?”
She wrings her hands in front of her. “I’m twenty-eight, and I’m originally from Arizona, though I’ve been living in LA for five years now. I used to be a waitress at Sonoma on Sunset, but they recently made budget cuts. Since I was the most recent hire, I was let go. So, um, I don’t have a job at the moment.” Her eyes rove to where I stand, and I instantly look away. Then, I remember she can’t see me. Or can she? It feels like her icy stare is piercing right through the tinted glass. That’s impossible, of course. But she’s the first to glance this way. Maybe she’s the first to notice the glass or care about it. She clears her throat and returns her focus to Max. “What was the other question?”
“Your family. Are you close to them? Do you have many friends? We’re asking because the job requires a lot of discretion, and you might have to reduce the time you spend with them.”
I inch closer to the window, my nose almost touching the glass. This point is crucial. With the fake marriage we’ll have going on, we can’t risk family members meddling, figuring the whole thing out, and blowing the operation. I would look like a fraud, and my business would suffer—permanently.
“Oh, no,” she says with a nervous laugh. “I don’t really have family around, so that won’t be a problem.”
“Really?” Max leans forward, trying to dig deeper. This is a tricky topic, and we’ve had several answers similar to hers today. They brush off the question like it’s no big deal, but when you delve deeper, you realize they see their parents twice a week or have a planned vacation with their siblings this summer. One even lives with her sister.
“That’s right. I don’t have any friends or family in Los Angeles,” she says, biting her lip.
“Are they in Arizona?”
Her body tenses, and a red tint rises to her cheeks. Darting glances left and right, she hesitates.
“You have to be honest, Ms. Myers. This is fundamental.” Max fixes his deep brown eyes on her.
She swallows hard and stares at the floor. “I am being honest. I don’t have any family in Los Angeles, or Arizona, for that matter,” she says, looking up. “As for friends, I, um, don’t make friends easily. I have a few acquaintances here, but that’s it.”
“Okay.” Max nods. I can tell he believes her, and so do I. I don't see an ounce of deception in this girl, even though it blows my mind that a woman like her isn't surrounded by friends—and a boyfriend.
As if reading my mind, Max asks, “You’d be comfortable with a live-in situation?”
We can’t ask them straight-out if they’re single, so we thought this would be the best option.
She twists her mouth. “I guess so. But what kind—”
