Slate: The Salacious Story of a Hollywood Casting Director

by Rowe, Brian

  Brandon nodded, while Vivien was ready for the Latino boy to get the hell out of there.

  After she made sure the kid wasn’t coming in a third time, she looked up at Brandon with disappointment. “He doesn’t have representation?”

  “So?”

  “I don’t read actors without representation!”

  Brandon looked bewildered. “I know that, V, but for this project, who gives a shit if the actors have agents or not?”

  Vivien tried to respond, but Brandon cut her off.

  “No, really, what’s the goal here, V? To score with some younger guys, right?”

  “Shhh!” Vivien said. “Keep your voice down.”

  Brandon sat down on the table in front of her. “V, I know you hate non-union actors. I don’t like them either. They’re usually untrained and untalented. But for the purposes of this project, won’t it be easier for you to try to take advantage of those who have nothing?”

  She sometimes forgot how smart Brandon could be.

  “If the actor has representation,” he said, “it’s going to make it that much more difficult for you to set up that dinner-for-two at Château Marmont, if you get my drift.”

  “Fuck,” she said. “I guess you’re right. I hate when you’re right.”

  “But yeah, it’s a mix and match. The ones you wanted me to set up have agents. The ones I set up don’t.”

  “The boys at Actors Access love you right now, don’t they?”

  “You have no idea,” he said.

  Actors Access was the section of Breakdown Services where actors without representation could submit themselves for projects. Vivien only knew this because her son had joined a few years ago without her knowledge before he secured his first agent. When Vivien found out, she gave him his first and only spanking.

  “OK, who’s next?”

  Brandon nodded at Vivien and walked out of the room, leaving the door open a crack. Vivien could hear commotion coming from the waiting room.

  Alyson poked her head in. “Vivien?”

  “Yes?”

  “Hi, yes. I had a question. What exactly are you casting for today?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’m just curious, because all the guys in the waiting room have completely different looks.”

  “How different?”

  “Well,” Alyson said, “I think every ethnicity is accounted for.”

  “Even Middle Eastern?”

  “Even Middle Eastern.”

  Vivien sighed and didn’t particularly want to answer the new intern’s question. “Any messages?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “No, just a few agents calling to pitch. That Tyler Stiletto guy keeps calling. He’s called like fifty times. Says he has a perfect guy for one of the roles.”

  “Stiletto,” she said to herself, shaking her head. “That guy will be the end of me.”

  Brandon pushed Alyson to the side and smiled at Vivien. “You ready for the next actor?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Please, we need to keep moving.”

  Alyson went back to her desk, and Brandon walked up to Vivien, handing her the second headshot of the morning.

  This actor, named Shawn Kressmore, was an African American who looked no older than fifteen.

  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. This is going to be a long day.

  Vivien knew then and there that she had made a mistake. She had asked Brandon to write in a character that was too young. By the time the fifth actor danced his way into the audition room, she realized these younger actors were looking too close in age to her son to make her feel comfortable in thinking of them as sexual objects. The occasional actor walking in gave Vivien a sparkle in the eye and tickle in the vagina, but none of these toddlers were actually making her wet.

  That’s when Vivien remembered. Garrett Skyler.

  She had forgotten about Garrett. Their cupcake date had been a success, and she had definitely felt attraction to him. He was only twenty-one, yes, but with a maturity that she enjoyed. She wondered if Garrett would take another meeting.

  A dinner meeting.

  She wasn’t thinking rationally, of course, knowing Garrett’s busy schedule, or the minor detail that the boy was engaged to be married. But she thought she would at least try.

  She got up out of her chair and opened the door. Another actor who looked no older than eleven was waiting in the hallway, his fingers tapping the wall.

  She made her way over to Alyson, who was organizing some documents on Brandon’s desk. “Hey, can you do something for me?”

  Alyson put some papers down and stood upright, as if she were going to give Vivien a salute. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “I need you to set up a meeting with Garrett Skyler. He’s with CAA.”

  “All right, sure thing.” Alyson looked at Vivien with curious eyes. She sat down in her chair and scooted up to her laptop.

  “Make it for tomorrow night around seven o’clock at a place of his choosing. Call his agent and tell him it’s regarding the film The Men that I am producing. Tell him I’m interested in him for the role of Jesse.”

  She could see the timid actor in waiting give her a disappointed look, knowing full well that he had zero shot at the role if Vivien was meeting with an actor from the granddaddy of all agencies, CAA. She tried to avoid his gaze.

  “OK,” Alyson said. “I’ll make the call.”

  “Thank you.”

  As Vivien walked back into the audition room, she found Brandon playing his tape back, watching that Latino actor’s audition. He, again, had a full tent in his pants.

  “Oh, Jesus Christ,” she said.

  “What?” Brandon asked in an innocent tone.

  She didn’t respond. She just shook her head and sat back down in her chair. “All right, let’s go. Next actor.”

  “OK, I’ll get him.”

  “It’s kind of loud out there,” Vivien said. “How many actors are out there now?”

  “I don’t know. Let me check.”

  He shut the door, and Vivien reclined in her chair. She started thinking about Garrett. She thought it would be a long shot to guarantee another meeting so soon, but she thought she’d at least see if he’d be interested.

  Maybe he’d be in the mood for Mrs. Robinson.

  Brandon stepped back in the room.

  Vivien looked up at him. “Yes? How many actors?”

  “Almost a hundred.”

  Vivien’s jaw dropped to the corner of her desk. She started thinking about what she would remove from Brandon first if she had the chance—his penis or his testicles.

  “Well don’t just stand there!” she screamed. “Let’s go!”

  The session went on for another seven hours. Funny enough, Brandon didn’t ask once for a lunch break.

  -29-

  I definitely should not have eaten that.

  Christopher had felt bloated all day, and he knew the root cause had been that hot dog he had scarfed down too quickly at lunch. He knew a trip to the bathroom would make his stomach feel better, but he also knew that he needed to pour something hot down his throat in order to move the half-digested food along in his system.

  He got up from his chair and started walking down the hallway, feeling as if he was growing a litter of babies in his stomach—triplets, he imagined. As he got closer to the kitchen, he noticed the chit chat coming from the busy casting office. He turned to his left and peered inside the waiting room to see at least forty young men sitting, most of them on the floor. He checked in the kitchen for green tea bags, which worked best with his digestion, but couldn’t find a single one.

  Finding this as good a time as any, he decided to meander over to the casting office to ask the assistant if he or she had any tea.

  He found just one person at the casting desk. She was a young lady with a pale face, wide hips, and a large neck that looked to have a life of its own.

  “Excuse me, Miss?”

&
nbsp; “Yes?” The girl turned toward him, clearly happy to have a distraction.

  “Are you Vivien’s assistant?”

  “I wish,” she smiled. “I’m just the intern.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, yes, I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before.”

  “I just started last week,” she said.

  “Oh, splendid. I imagine Vivien is quite busy today?”

  “Very. We’ve been casting for hours.”

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “I’m Alyson.”

  “Christopher.”

  The two shook hands, and he instantly regretted it after coming in contact with the warm sweat on her palm.

  “Can I help you with something?” Alyson asked.

  “Yes. I had a question for you.”

  He almost fell over, startled, when the associate opened the door behind him and shouted a name: “Rusty Flowers!”

  Alyson and Christopher both turned around to see a young boy who looked to be a mix of Pacific Islander and Chinese walking past them. His hair was slicked back, and his facial structure was breathtaking. If a sensuous Asian woman had birthed Christopher, he wished he would’ve looked like this kid.

  When the door slammed shut, a jolt rushed through his body, and he felt an urge to pass gas.

  “Sir?” Alyson asked. “Did you say you had a question for me?”

  “Yes, I was just wondering if you kept any teas around your office.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Tea? You know? Green tea bags?”

  Alyson started looking under some binders on the right corner of her desk. “I don’t think I have anything here. Let me check in Ms. Slate’s office. Hold on a moment.”

  Christopher stayed put while Alyson started combing through the drawers under Vivien’s desk. He looked to his right to see a wall of headshots. He laughed, thinking that even he was even more attractive than some of these older folk.

  He leaned over to look at more headshots when his left hand brushed against a black binder. He looked down to see a thick three-ring book with a title page on the front that said two simple words—The Men.

  He looked back at the forty boys in the waiting room.

  Hmmm.

  He opened the binder to see some dividers and scattered papers. There were lots of scribbles, many of which he couldn’t comprehend. He flipped through different sections, like casting suggestions, e-mails, and notes. Then one section caught his eye.

  He flipped past the yellow divider to see a two-page document stapled together. It told everything to do with the project, including the director’s name, shooting location, and start date for the film. It said that it was a SAG project and that there would be absolutely no pitch calls allowed.

  Christopher scrolled down the page to see descriptions of five lead characters. The first character name was Jesse.

  He turned to the crowd of young faces. “Excuse me,” he said to everybody. “What role are you guys reading for?”

  They all responded in perfect synchronicity: “JESSE!”

  Christopher nodded and looked back down at the paper. The second character was twenty-five years old. There was a twenty-nine-year-old and a thirty-four-year old as well. He reached the bottom of the page.

  Where’s the fifth character?

  He turned the page just as Alyson appeared in front of him.

  “It’s your lucky day,” she said. “Found two green tea bags in her drawer.”

  She sat back down at her desk, blocking him from the binder.

  He smiled and took the tea bags from her. “Thank you. That’s great.”

  He didn’t budge. Alyson looked at her computer screen, then back up at him with a modicum of worry. He hoped she didn’t think that he was still standing there because he was attracted to her. He didn’t mind girls chubby, but he didn’t like them grotesque.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asked.

  “Yes…” He needed to think of a lie. His mind was racing. “I was just wondering…” He stopped. He had nothing.

  Alyson stood back up. She leaned in toward him. He was prepared to run away if she stuck her tongue in his ear. “Actually, I have a favor to ask.”

  He definitely didn’t expect that. “Yes? What can I do for you?”

  “I really have to use the ladies’ room. Can you watch the phone here for a minute?”

  Magic does exist.

  “Oh. Sure. Yeah, go ahead.”

  “Thank you, I’ve been holding it forever. Thank you, thank you!”

  Alyson ran out of the room and down the hallway.

  The phone started ringing. Christopher looked down at it as if it were an extraterrestrial walkie-talkie. After the fifth ring, he picked it up.

  “Uhh, uhh, yes, hi. This is Vivien Slate’s office.”

  “Who am I speaking with?” The voice on the other end was gruff and intimidating.

  “This is, uhhh, how can I help you?”

  “Listen,” the man said, “this is Tyler Stilletto. I already talked to a young girl today. I just wanted to know when you guys are going to start setting up the character of Ryan? I have a client who is absolutely perfect for this.”

  This guy was talking gibberish. Christopher needed to hang up the phone. “OK. Thank you. I’ll tell Vivien you said hi. Cheerio!”

  Cheerio. That was a word he hadn’t used in a while.

  “No! Wait!”

  Christopher hung up the phone. It started ringing again immediately. He turned to his right to see Alyson making her way back from the bathroom.

  He took his final moment alone to look at that second page in the binder. He saw a synopsis for the project at the top, something to do with a group of five brothers re-uniting for a long weekend. Then, finally, he saw the description of the fifth lead character at the top.

  The character’s name was Charles. He was forty years old. He had spent the last fifteen years of his life working as a fisherman overseas. And he was returning to the U.S. with a British accent.

  A British accent! Holy shit!

  Christopher had five more seconds to read over the character description a second time when Alyson put distance once again between him and the binder.

  “Thanks a bunch,” she said. “Did anyone call?”

  “Uhhh, no.”

  The phone started ringing. Alyson picked it up. “Vivien Slate’s office.”

  Christopher waved the tea bags at Alyson, and she gave him a thumbs-up. He started walking out of the office.

  “I know, Mr. Stiletto, we’ve received your submissions,” he heard her say as he stepped into the waiting area and waded his way through the sea of boys.

  He made the tea fast, as if he had just one minute left on a lunch break that had already gone on way too long. He threw an ice cube in the cup to make sure he wouldn’t hurt himself and started chugging the green tea. He drank three whole cups, and he immediately felt the urge to go.

  After he finished, he got up from the toilet and walked up to the bathroom mirror. He analyzed both sides of his face and let out a loud sigh.

  Christopher Bells started to dream.

  It’s time to trim the hair and beard.

  I have an audition to prepare for.

  -30-

  “Anyone strike your fancy today?” Brandon asked, stuffing headshots into his backpack after the session finally came to an end.

  Vivien turned her chair around. The frown on her face could have browned a line of bushes. “What are you doing?” she asked, a low calmness in her voice that seemed to startle him.

  “What?”

  “Why are you taking headshots home with you?”

  Brandon zipped up his backpack and put it on the ground. “What? Did you want to keep them?”

  “No.”

  “All right then, so it’s my backpack or the recycle bin. Which would you prefer?”

  “You’re gonna go home tonight and whack off to those headshots, aren’t you?”r />
  Vivien’s brutal honesty looked to take her associate by surprise. “Excuse me?”

  She had a scary little smile plastered on her face. “Don’t deny it.”

  “I’m in a relationship, V. I’m not gonna be whacking off to anything.”

  “Oh, really? A boyfriend, huh? What’s his name?”

  Brandon kneeled down and unplugged the power chord to his laptop. “I’m not gonna answer that question.”

  “We’re friends, Brandon. You can talk to me.”

  “I love you, V. You know I do. But at the end of the day, you’re my employer.”

  “What’s his name?” she asked again.

  “Derek,” he quickly replied. “He’s wonderful.”

  “Is he older or younger than you?”

  “He’s nineteen.”

  “Oh my God.” Vivien turned her chair to the right and started laughing. “Fine. Take the headshots. You clearly need them more than I do.”

  “So I take it you didn’t like anyone today?”

  “Not a one. And the only younger guy I might have a thing for is shooting a Scorsese movie in Italy, if you can believe it.”

  “Oh, Garrett?”

  “Yeah. What a pity.”

  Brandon looked ready to go home. It was late. “So when should we hold the next session?”

  Vivien started rubbing her eyes. She yawned and turned back to Brandon. “Let’s do Wednesday. The turnout today showed me that we don’t need a whole week to set up these actors. If we wanted to see actors on Monday morning, we could probably make it happen.”

  “But we’re not going to, right?” Brandon looked terrified.

  Vivien morphed her face into a friendly grin. “No. Have a good weekend.”

  “OK. You too.”

  Brandon slipped his laptop into his backpack. “Which character do you want to do on Wednesday? No more of Jesse, right?”

  “No more of Jesse.”

  “All right, then who?”

  “Let’s just keep going up in age. Makes it easier. But I think the twenty-five-year-old might still be too young. I’m thinking I’ll be most attracted to a guy around thirty or so.”