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I chuckled into the phone. “Sleep well. You got this.” As long as easy doesn’t mean easy to fool, I’m good with her thinking I’m easy.
“Good night, Jake.”
“I love…” I started but the line was dead before I got it out, the clause I thought should be part of our goodbye routine. This wasn’t simple, putting myself out there…telling someone exactly how I felt, that I loved them, yet not hearing it in return. I thought about Melissa's words around the firepit a couple of months ago. Perfect Melissa, but that was just the surface: she’d been paddling like mad to keep herself and her family afloat.
I’d tried like hell to follow the twisty conversation we were embroiled in, a veil to what was really going on in Melissa’s life. She’d made it clear that she and Tom were struggling. Tom was having a hard time accepting Cameron. Melissa’s internal chaos surfacing wasn’t something I’d observed before. I don’t know if it had been there all along and I just hadn’t seen it, but her explanation made me speculate and think there’d been someone before Tom, someone not like Tom.
“Don’t get caught up in perfect. I wish I had learned how to fail, to be okay with messy situations, breathe through all the hard stuff. Because when all the perfection falls to pieces, you don’t know how to deal with the mess. You just sit there trying to figure out how you got so far from the person you thought you were.” A laugh that had sounded distant spilled from her mouth.
“Okay…but how about if you have a tendency to gravitate toward messy? Now you’re trying to be a little bit more like your sisters, but somehow you just keep stepping in your own shit? What’s your solution for that?” I’d challenged.
Staring at the fire, she’d spoken slowly. “I think that’s more of a natural progression. Begin with disarray, then clean it up, putting thought into how you want your life to look or, more importantly, feel. It's better than fighting to keep everything tidy and neat. There’s something powerful about figuring out who you are in the midst of chaos. Chasing perfection is a maddening quest…I wished I’d stayed in the messy, achy parts longer when I was young and allowed myself to feel. I always focused on growing up and getting past all that silly stuff—like falling in love, just because that person makes you laugh and your skin jumps when they get near. But still, years later, you think about the first time their lips touched yours, the first…”
She paused, shifting the conversation, but the message was clear: my sister had let someone go, someone she loved, someone she wouldn’t forget. It struck me how a person could be such an important part of your life, as Melissa was in mine, yet there were parts of them, perhaps the most meaningful parts, that you didn’t understand. Hell, in this case, I couldn’t even imagine that there was someone before Tom, someone who had left a profound imprint. I couldn’t access that Melissa from my world view of my family.
Chapter Seven
After yanking off another dress and tossing it to the floor, she froze, eyes glazed over, staring at the hanging clothes. Would a dress make or break this audition? “Naïvely provocative;” that was an oxymoron, but that’s what she was supposed to convey.
She re-read the introduction to the script and chose a bohemian-style sun dress she had bought in Austin when she first moved there. Flipping her head over, spraying the underside of her hair for volume before finishing with a pale pink lipstick, she looked in the mirror and said, “You got this.” Sweetly provocative—it was as close to naïve as she could get without looking downright ridiculous, she thought, practicing her smile: small, unforced, not too confident, not too shy, not too bold, not too afraid, naïve yet provocative. How could one expression portray two contradictory personas…vampy yet helpless?
The Uber seemed to have a gravitational pull toward traffic jams, making her more anxious. “I have to be there in thirty minutes,” she urged. This is why she’d never drive in this city. She’d left with an hour and a half leeway, and they were still sitting in traffic.
The driver nodded, scanning the highway, then exiting onto a side road. “This is faster,” he grumbled, eyes narrowing in the rearview mirror as if she were somehow responsible for the traffic in L.A. He swerved through a neighborhood, taking corners with a sharp jarring of the steering wheel until he finally stopped short in a parking lot in front of a multi-story gray concrete office complex. He pointed to the building and snapped, “In there.”
She jumped out, releasing the air stuck in her lungs with the grand finale of what felt like a day's drive to get here. She grabbed her phone, checking the time five minutes before the audition. This was the beginning of her day, which held high expectations. Her cup full of anticipation seemed to leak as the day moved on.
She was led to an office; the casting director and two other people were chatting and laughing as an assistant opened the door, motioning for her to enter.
She smiled widely, shoulders straight, seeing the words as a banner in her head: “You got this.” Then, just as quickly, she saw them disintegrate. All eyes were on her, running up and down her body; two men and a woman exchanged glances…to Rakell, their expressions seemed disinterested. This was the biggest role she’d ever auditioned for. In a matter of seconds, the confident self-talk she had used to confirm her worthiness for such a part was lost in the chatter arguing in her head: You aren’t what they wanted; you aren’t worthy; you aren’t going to make it. Mom was right.
She recited the monologue meant to convey anger. Trying to push back the sadness creeping into her tone, clearing her throat midway through, she yanked at the anger she’d felt and could never express as an escort, re-routing her expression to convey rage. When she finished, their eyes found each other, nodding in silent agreement. Their expressions ignited a twinge of satisfaction in Rakell that was quickly doused when the casting director asked if she’d read the script and if she understood the character…to which she said, “Yes.” Then he instructed, “Why don’t you do it again and keep in mind that this girl is a devious narcissist who presents with the façade of a naïve, sheltered girl. Yet, to the contrary, she knows exactly what she is doing.”
“Yes, okay,” Rakell replied, sipping in a short breath, trying to find a rhythm to her delivery. All three smiled with tight, show-nothing, forced-upturned lips as she finished. The casting director dismissed her cordially, confirming that they would see her that evening, along with the other two women auditioning, adding, “Please arrive at seven to ensure you are there before Bernardo.”
The rehearsed questions seeped from her consciousness, leaving her with a blank mind. She stood there nodding and saying, “Of course, of course,” repeatedly as she hastily grabbed her purse to make a quick exit.
Shifting her weight from one foot to another, waiting for the Uber, she realized that in an instant, her belief that she was strong, self-assured, and didn’t need others' approval had collapsed within the spotlight of their judgment. She couldn’t let that happen; no, she had endured the raking of men’s eyes over her body, assessing their purchase, and the disapproving slant of their mouths any time she let her defiance of their obscene worlds surface. I can do this…this is part of the process; tonight, I’ll dress and play the part.
After shimmying herself into a strapless black dress, she slipped her feet into two-inch heels. When she was leaving to get the Uber, Vee walked in, still dressed in the French maid outfit she’d left in the night before. Her hair was disheveled, mascara smudged under her eyes, and her body flashed beneath an open men’s raincoat.
Vee grinned at Rakell. “Get that concerned look off your face. I had an amazing night, which,” she said, twitching her eyebrows and walking past her, “will probably get me in the door to something big.” Then Vee’s head twisted back toward Rakell. “Jeepers, where are you going? Dolled up like you're meeting a man.”
“Oh, well, I…I’m just meeting a friend,” Rakell spat out, her speech halting.
Vee spread her legs slightly, hands on her hips. “Honey, you ain’t foolin’ me. I know when a girl is dressing for a man. Don’t worry, I won’t tell that famous beau of yours. I get it. Some of those athlete types look all big and ripped, probably because they take roids, but their dicks are shriveled, so you’re gettin’ it somewhere else. That’s between you and me.”
Rakell shook her head. “No, that’s not what’s happening, and Jake doesn’t take…Never mind. I’m just meeting a potential…”
“I get it, a potential.” Vee twerked an eyebrow, her big teeth gleaming between her strained lips. “Hey, hon, in this town, you gotta use what you got. Have fun, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Vee chortled, winking as if she and Rakell shared a secret now.
“Look, I’m not going to be with someone else. I wouldn’t do that to…”
“Okay, sure! We all got a price. Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me. Go! Never keep the bill payer waiting, not ever. A lesson from the South,” she added with a semi-curtsy, as if she’d just delivered the closing line in a Broadway performance before pivoting and walking down the hall, a snicker trailing behind her.
Rakell let out an exasperated sigh before walking out. He was paying the bill and deciding on her future…this was part of business, making nice with the potential business relationship. This was different from her previous life. It’s different, it is, she told herself as the car pulled up to Stella’s, a posh West Hollywood restaurant where studio powerhouses cuddled within dark paneled walls adorned with golden fixtures. This luxurious interior, some said, resembled the old-monied yachts lining the banks of Monaco.
Rakell checked in with the hostess, who offered her a realizing upturned lip. ‘I know why you get to dine here.’ She’d seen that smirk so many times before. ‘This is different,’ she wanted to say, but by the end of the night, she wasn’t sure if that was the case. Two people she’d met earlier that day were standing around a large, round table in a private room, sipping wine and talking to Maji, an actress she recognized from movies but had never met.
