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“Then the camera will pan to his lit cigarette dropping to the ground, as his shoe stomps on it.” The whole time the woman spoke, her eyes darted between the iPad, which she read from, and then back up to Rakell’s face, like she was checking Rakell’s reaction.
“Oh…I, well…okay that sounds like an intense scene.”
The woman’s eyes found Rakell. “Listen, you have options. You can decide if you undo the string around your neck and let the top drop. Since that was not originally part of the audition, it is entirely up to you.”
Rakell swirled the request around in her head. She desperately wanted to probe her for more information, like, What are the other two women doing? She knew Shaina had auditioned before lunch but wasn’t sure when Maji was scheduled. Would it seem unprofessional if I asked? As she imagined the scene, it occurred to her that her swimsuit tops were crisscrossed in the back. “Actually, my bikini tops won’t work for that. I, um, thought the camera was just going to be focused on my pinched fingers pulling the back string,” she sputtered, reaching into the duffle bag and grabbing the pale-blue polka dot top before she held it out toward the woman. “See, it crisscrosses in the back, so there’s no string around the neck. I just thought…”
The dark-haired woman looked briefly at the web of strings, her face unmoved, like this was such a trivial issue that she almost couldn’t be bothered. “Like I said, we have bikini tops…similar to what will be required for the costume on set.” The woman’s gaze grazed over Rakell’s chest, the corners of her lips tightening into a grimace. Rakell flinched internally, urging herself not to wrap her arms around her body. “But I’m not sure…you look…well-built,” she spit out.
Well-built? Rakell’s brain blared repeatedly: code for big, heavy. Shit! She didn’t let her face show the reaction coursing through her; she kept the small, plastered smile in place and nodded.
“I’ll have Jan bring you a couple to try, and we’ll see what works. Maybe…” She didn’t finish her statement before leaving the room.
The door opened, and another woman with shoulder-length sandy brown hair stepped in, late twenties or maybe early thirties. “Hi, I’m Jan, helping with your costumes and making sure you feel comfortable. Here are two suits…they’re the look they want. I think the yellow one would be perfect. Get changed, and I’ll tweak your hair and makeup a bit. We have a robe you can wear. There are people everywhere, but for the shoot, it’s just the casting director, James Albright, who’ll be watching, and, of course, Bernardo with a small crew. I’ll run the shot by you. Most of the time, they will ask for a repeat…they want to emulate this scene as close to the actual movie as possible so they can review it. Just change, then I’ll get started,” she said, pointing to a table with makeup and hair accessories. “The bathroom, if you feel more comfortable, is right there.”
The suit barely covered the triangle between her legs, and she could feel it creeping into the crack of her ass. The triangles on the front appeared to be designed for someone with an A or maybe a B-cup, not D-cup breasts. Rakell reminded herself how much she wanted this as she opened the door to the bathroom. She walked out, giving Jan a tight smile.
“You look, well, you make the suit look amazing.” A college girl rah-rah in her voice reminded Rakell of her RADA friends getting ready for a night out in London. Jan twisted her lips before nodding as if she’d figured something out. “I guess it’s a little small, but it makes it more…I think they’re going to like you in it.”
Slipping her arms through the robe, Rakell listened to Jan repeat her earlier instructions. She assured Rakell that her audition tape had been reviewed, as well as a video from a lingerie commercial she’d done, the notes from the in-person audition, and the meetings yesterday; she didn’t directly say it, but her tone and big-eyed smiling expression indicated that the people making the decisions liked what they saw in Rakell. “As I said,” Jan continued, “when you go out to the pool, we will shut the blinds in the house so all the support staff milling about won’t be able to see the audition. Bernardo wrote the script in conjunction with the author, and he’s invested his own money to see this project through to the big screen, which is why he’s personally involved in the audition.”
Rakell smiled, absorbing the ease the woman’s instructive reassurance instilled. “Yes, thank you. It all makes sense. I appreciate even being considered, mate,” she said, attempting to strike a tone of camaraderie, unnatural for Rakell but she knew connecting with Jan would help her right now.
Jan laughed. “Follow me. Remember, Emmerson is American, so use the neutral accent I heard in your audition tape.” They walked down the hallway toward the back of the house, moving past people chatting and laughing, meandering through an expansive great room. They exited the house through a sliding door into a massive backyard. She looked out at a perfectly cropped green carpet. She would have thought it was fake if it wasn’t for the scent of freshly cut grass wafting in the air. The manicured lawn was nestled around a kidney-shaped pool with a bluish-gray stone waterfall treatment jutting up at the far end. One side was lined with lounge chairs covered with puffy blue and white cushions.
People interacted while looking at monitors. Two cameras were positioned on either side of the lawn chairs, pointing directly at the chaise lounge, and two more were aimed toward the other side of the pool. “You’re going to be lying on this chair with your legs stretched out and sunglasses on, but when you sit up and see Bernardo across the pool, take off your glasses.” Jan demonstrated, then methodically detailed, step-by-step, the actions that would accompany the lines Rakell had memorized. “Okay, let’s run through it a couple of times.” She offered the people gathered around the equipment a thumbs up before directing her attention back to Rakell. “You ready? Let’s run through it. Then you tell me if you’re letting your top drop or just pulling on the back string. The camera crew needs to know. Remember, it’s your choice,” she emphasized with her eyes resting emphatically on Rakell.
Is it? Is it really? The question niggled at her frontal lobe. Is it? Is it really? Was this really a choice? The messages in her brain vacillated: You’re lucky you got this audition, it's Bernardo Cappuccino, you left the escort business not to be beholden to men. You did all that to have the freedom to choose but you may never get this chance again. You can’t pass on the top-drop, can you?
When Jan prompted her again for an answer, she replied with a soft, sheepish whisper. Jan nodded understandingly, then stepped away to chat with the crew.
Their hushed whispers floated Rakell’s way. As she shut her eyes, slowly pulling air into her lungs, easing her body and brain into the scene, she heard a man clear his throat a few feet away. Her lids flew open.
Bernardo greeted her with a wry smirk. He was dressed in a cream linen pantsuit, holding a cigarette and lighter. “You ready, Rakell?”
A garbled “Yes, yes, I am” spurted from her mouth. “I mean, of course. Thank you.”
He pursed his lips, his eyes lighting up as he bent forward toward her. “It’s always nerve-racking when we first start rolling. I know you can work a camera…this will be slightly different. Keep focused on me as the character. Don’t let your eyes go to the camera. This crew is skilled…if you show the slightest emotion or shift in expression, these lenses will pick up everything. So, a word of advice when auditioning…” He leaned down to where she sat on the lounge chair, his finger crooked, guiding her to edge forward.
Her heart twisted below her ribcage; her breath catching in her throat. His head was inches from her.
“What I’m trying to say…” Words slid from his mouth slowly, as if he were calculating every thought he would share with her, his deep voice seeming to echo in her head. “I saw your tapes, also the commercials, with that ‘come hither’ expression you’re able to captivate, but don’t waste that on the cameras. It’s for me, so offer that same inviting look you conjured up for the Sports Illuminated shoot and the videos and direct it to me.” His eyelids lowered as he finished his instruction and asked, “Does that make sense?”
The unhurried way he spoke, as if they were out here by the pool sipping a mojito, comingled with the sultry, subtle English accent dripping from his tongue, felt like the tips of his fingers were brushing across her chin and down her throat to the crevice created by her flesh crammed together in the too-small bikini top.
“Sense…yes, all of it,” rushed out of her mouth in a breathy whisper.
He stood, a smug grin taking over his face. “Let’s get started.” His voice was loud, carrying across the expanse of the yard. His thumb was up, like he was saying, okay, let’s do this. “Your audition tape is solid. You are talented.” His affirming tone seemed incongruent from the sultry arrogance he’d just displayed moments ago. She stared after him as he walked to the other side of the pool, giving directions to the crew the entire time, their attention riveted to the master.
When the cameraman nearby said, “It’s go-time,” she embraced the Emmerson metamorphosis, the emotional skill she’d learned at RADA and had fully embodied as Marietta. At that moment, Emmerson took over, sultry innocence emanating from Rakell while making sure she owned Bernardo or, rather, the character Bernardo played. Her eyes raked over him daringly, lips parting seductively as her hand deftly undid the lower bikini strings around her back, leaving the ties in place around her neck. When they called “cut,” the skimpy bikini top hovered in front of her breasts, her chest heaving from her erratic breath, the heat between her legs causing her to snap her knees together to stave it off. God, it was as if she’d disassociated from the whole scene, observing herself acting for a man once again.
“I got this,” she heard Jan say as she moved behind Rakell, retying the strings of her bikini. “Incredible,” she uttered in Rakell’s ear.
“Holy shit,” rushed out of Rakell’s mouth as her glazed eyes adjusted to the man walking toward her, a wolf-like expression consuming his face.
His slate-colored eyes pinned her. “Rakell…impressive,” he said. “You have a real shot in this town. It appears, sweetheart, you have the works.” He extended his hand to her just as Jan set the robe beside her.
Gulping air, trying to even out her breath, she reached forward, letting his fingers clasp hers. He hung on for what seemed like several seconds, but she wasn’t fully grounded. Her eyes scattered around until they met his. “Um, thank you,” she managed, then added with a breathy whisper, “I hope so.”
