by Andi Osho
Chapter 22
Meagan
Meagan pulled a pristine album cover from her collection. She blew an invisible speck of dust off the heavy black disc and placed it on the turntable.
‘What is Jem up to again?’ Meagan asked as she moved the needle across and Stevie Wonder’s ‘Songs in the Key of Life’ spilled from her strategically positioned speakers.
‘She stayed up reading yesterday so she’s getting an early night,’ Simi said picking at the foil of the champagne bottle on Meagan’s coffee table.
‘No, Sim. We’re not drinking that,’ said Meagan.
‘Well, Todd didn’t send it to be an ornament?’
‘If we drink it, he’ll think I want him to keep sending me stuff. Last week it was flowers, the week before, chocolates. My life’s turning into a Nineties R&B video. And anyway, I’ve got something much better,’ she said, pulling a bottle of whisky from the top of her book-free bookcase.
‘No way. The last time I had whisky was that New Year’s Eve party.’ Simi shuddered.
‘Oh, yeah. We played drunk lady KerPlunk on you.’
‘And I woke up covered in crap!’ moaned Simi.
‘Okay, you win,’ Meagan puffed pushing the whisky bottle back onto the shelf.
She planted herself back on the sofa and popped the champagne cork, pouring two glasses.
‘What is it?’ she said, feeling Simi’s gaze on her.
‘Nothing…’ Simi began, ‘it’s just, Todd’s being so sweet and you’re already, you know, doing it. Why aren’t you two together?’
‘Because I’ve got my plan! Nothing’s gonna get in the way of that,’ Meagan said sitting up. ‘I’m gonna be 30 soon—’
Simi went to speak.
‘And, no,’ Meagan said cutting her off, ‘I don’t want a party this year either.’
‘But it’s your thirtieth!’ Simi pleaded.
‘I mean it. Low key to the point of no-existence is how it’s always been. Deal?’ said Meagan.
‘Deal,’ grizzled Simi.
‘So, that gives me three years to meet someone. I’ll have my first kid by 34 and last by 40. Then I’ll get married and by my early fifties they’ll all be old enough to be left alone without burning my house down. At that point me and Mr Meagan will travel the world, popping back for the odd graduation or wedding. Good, eh?’ said Meagan, pleased.
‘Yeah…’ said Simi.
Meagan knew what was wrong. According to her plan, at 35, Simi was already behind schedule.
‘Stop worrying, Simster. Look at Jem. She’s not worrying about all that.’
‘I’m not sure she even wants to meet a guy let alone have kids,’ said Simi glumly.
‘Of course she wants to meet a guy. Why else would she put herself through this game?’
‘Maybe,’ said Simi.
‘And I reckon talking about our demons is helping her come to terms with hers so she can meet someone decent.’
‘Hmmm, she is asking us a lot of questions about our love lives,’ said Simi sinking back.
‘Exactly.’
It was the only sane explanation for Jemima’s behaviour of late, Meagan deduced. She was wrestling with all kinds of demons including the belief that being part of a couple weakens her. That was what being with Miles had done and was one of the many reasons Meagan wanted to punch him in the throat.
‘You know what, Sim, we need to up our game,’ Meagan said setting her glass down. ‘Jem needs us to find her someone who’ll show her two is more than one, not less.’
‘Ooooh I like it. Poetic. But two is more… How do you mean?’ Simi asked, confused.
‘I mean, Jem thinks being with someone takes something from her, like she’s only strong alone. We have to find someone that makes her go weak at the knees but in a good way,’ said Meagan.
‘Yes!’ yelped Simi. ‘Someone so great she’ll fall over herself to be with him.’
‘Totes. That’s what this is all about. I guarantee it,’ Meagan said. ‘Come, Simderella. Let’s make a list. What does Jemima really, truly need?’
Chapter 23
Simi
Simi looked up as the door at the end of the familiar, white corridor swished open. She was back at Antonia De Silva’s office a week after her previous audition. For some inexplicable reason, she had been invited in for something called a ‘chemistry read’. From what she could gather, this casting was to see if she had an on-screen rapport with the leading lady herself, Cameron Christiansen. Simi dry-gulped as an actor she vaguely knew tiptoed over to the signing-in sheet and scribbled her name. She gave her a polite smile then returned to her script. Antonia’s office was much quieter today. Before, there’d been at least eight actors lined up in the corridor. Today there were just two and somehow, Simi was one of them.
‘Have you ever done a chemistry read?’ she whispered to the other actress.
‘A few,’ she replied.
‘How are they?’
‘Largely terrifying,’ the actress said with a sweet laugh. ‘Just do your best and don’t think about the fact you’re auditioning with Cameron Christiansen and this might change your life.’
Simi gawped at her until she realised – she was joking.
‘Don’t worry. You’ve proved you can act or you wouldn’t be here. You can’t get this wrong.’
Simi nodded, not reassured at all. No matter how hard she tried, things rarely went her way. Usually she only found out she hadn’t got the job when she stumbled across the show on TV. And who did she most often see staring back at her from the screen – Sandra Scott. She was everywhere, doing everything from selling toilet roll to delivering bad news in the latest hospital drama. Simi didn’t wish Sandra less success, she just wanted a little for herself. And where was ‘Sandy’? she wondered. Normally, by now she’d have breezed in, shattering all hope. Was it possible for once, she hadn’t made the cut and Antonia was in a race against time to fill the role? If that was the case, Simi was more than happy to be the rank outsider stealing a last minute win. She had to focus though. With or without Sandra in the race, this could easily be snatched from her by any one of the great actresses being seen for this role. Simi scrolled through the notes Meagan had emailed her, perplexed. She had only ever had two agents in her career, one of whom had spent most of their relationship trying to enrol her in a colon cleanser pyramid scheme. But though she’d had little experience of what agents did, she was sure burying her under a pile of acting notes, wasn’t part of the deal. Every audition Meagan sent her on was the same. The annoying part was, Simi knew Meagan didn’t do this with her comedians. She wasn’t telling them how to deliver their jokes so why was she telling Simi how to act? She reread Meagan’s notes still unconvinced. Meagan, who only ever skim-read scripts had advised her to play Dorothea as angry – because it would be funny. However to Simi, Dorothea seemed happy about her situation evidenced by the line, ‘Being in my lady’s favour has advanced me beyond my station. I could not have hoped for more!’ Why would someone say that in anger? Was she being sarcastic? Simi speculated. Possibly but there was literally nothing in the script to suggest that. Dare she ignore Meagan’s advice and follow her own instincts just this once? The very thought gave her the jitters. Moments before the biggest audition of her life was not the time to go rogue.
Inside the audition room, Antonia lowered her glasses as Simi looked at her expectantly, pleased with her performance. She’d made ‘angry’ work and given almost everything, leaving just a little in reserve in case Antonia wanted more. Antonia cleared her throat as the echoes from Simi’s angry shouting bounced around the room.
‘That was very – interesting,’ she said.
Simi smiled hoping ‘interesting’ was casting-speak for, you got the job, kid!
Cameron, who had been lying on a tattered chaise longue opposite Simi stood up and slinked, feline-like, over to the window. She pushed it open and with the ease of a cat, slipped out onto the fire escape and lit a cigarette as long
and thin as her limbs.
Simi, who had been trying not to stare at Cameron, now stole a glance. She was stunning. She looked tall in her perfume adverts but in real life she had to be over six feet tall. She had cocoa skin, platinum blond hair, limbs like scaffolding and yet the poise of a dancer.
Antonia cleared her throat again.
‘We certainly hadn’t thought of Dorothea as being quite so… enraged,’ she said.
‘Well I was thinking, perhaps she’s a communist who doesn’t want to buy into this bourgeoisie lifestyle,’ Simi offered, her conviction withering at the sight of Antonia’s pained expression.
‘Communist. I see,’ Antonia said.
Simi searched Gabe’s face for some clue as to how she was doing. Gabe stared back, gave her an almost imperceptible neck-pop then started tinkering with the camera.
‘I mean, she doesn’t have to be. I could try it another way,’ said Simi, backtracking.
Antonia glanced over at Cameron who was halfway through her extra-slim cigarette. Simi’s eyes darted between them as though some sort of telepathic communication was taking place. Cameron raised an eyebrow and closed the window, turning her back on the room.
‘Please,’ said Simi not noticing that her hands were clasped together in prayer.
Antonia gave an unreadable smile. ‘Alright,’ she said, then nodded to Gabe. ‘Strawberry filter please.’
Simi exhaled with relief. And strawberry filter? Perhaps they were sending her tape to the producers and wanted it to look as good as possible. Come on, Simi, she chanted in her head. Make that strawberry filter count. This time she would discover the character for herself, in the moment. Gabe nodded with a grin and began adjusting the camera settings.
‘Will Cameron be coming back in?’ Simi asked looking over to the window.
‘No, darling, I’ll read with you this time. When you’re ready,’ said Antonia.
Simi looked out at Cameron. How were they going to discover if they had chemistry if she was ten feet away on a rickety old fire escape? Maybe Cameron was checking how far their chemistry could stretch. Simi nodded assuredly before reordering her script pages and beginning again. A moment later, Gabe was clacking the viewfinder closed and opening the door for Simi.
‘Right… I… you don’t need to see anything else?’ she stuttered.
‘No, that was great,’ said Antonia.
Simi gave one last confused look at Cameron who was elegantly staring into nothing, probably having intelligent acting thoughts.
‘Thanks again, Simi,’ said Antonia and before Simi had finished wittering her twenty-five goodbyes, Gabe had closed the door in her face.
Simi walked down the corridor, stunned. She’d been bustled out of the room so fast, her feet had barely touched the polished wooden floor. Well at least her last attempt had been better and hopefully, Cameron had a sense of how far Simi could project her chemistry.
‘Really interesting interpretation. So brave,’ said the other actress, though her eyes seemed to be saying something very different, like, WTF was that. Simi felt her mouth go dry and left.
Once outside, she tucked herself into a café’s back doorway, letting out a pained, arrrrghhh! Brave? Brave?? Brave was what actors said to their friends after seeing them do a terrible performance. Either that, or great energy.
‘Frrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiggg!’ Simi hissed.
Why had she listened to Meagan?? Angry had been the most ridiculous suggestion she could have gone with. She’d have been better off playing it like a clown again or a psychopath. In fact, psychopath was probably what her performance looked like and why Cameron had escaped onto the balcony. And even though she’d managed to get a do-over, it was obviously too little, way too late. Oh, God, Simi whimpered as she crouched down into a ball. This whole thing was a disaster. Simi hadn’t wanted to audition in the first place and when she had she’d ruined it by listening to Meagan’s terrible advice. Why didn’t she trust herself and, worse, why didn’t Meagan trust her – about anything? Whatever she thought, people overrode or just dismissed it. The only important choice Oscar had let her make was which joint Christmas card to send! No one trusted her choices. Simi gasped as a realisation struck her. That’s exactly what the dating game was! She had basically given the girls power-of-attorney over her. She was telling them she didn’t trust herself and that they were better placed to choose a date for her than she was. What had Meagan once said? People treat you how you let them. Meagan had talked at length about boundaries but it hadn’t occurred to Simi that one of those boundaries might have to be between her and her girlfriends. Her stomach lurched at the notion. They were her backstops, her confidantes, her wingwomen. But even so, that didn’t mean they got to decide everything for her. She needed to start deciding for herself. Even if she got it wrong, she had to try. Tonight, when they meet up for another round of the game, Simi would bow out. She had to make some changes and perhaps this was the place to start. She stood up, confidently striding to the end of the block. As she reached the corner, she spied Sandra Scott trotting up the street towards Antonia De Silva’s office and darted back into the doorway.
‘Sandra-Flipping-Scott,’ she seethed, punctuating each word with a pathetic, flailing punch.
As she flung her arms about, a flurry of white flakes floated down in front of her. Snow? she thought, reaching out to let a flake settle in her hand. But instead of melting it disintegrated into a grey smudge. Simi looked skyward and saw where it had come from. Above her was Cameron, cigarette in hand, staring down between the metal stairs of the fire escape. Without a flicker of expression, she opened the window and slid back inside Antonia’s office. Simi listened as the old wooden window grazed shut.
‘Frig,’ she grizzled as she stomped off to the tube and the receptionist job she would probably have for the rest of her life.
Chapter 24
Jemima
Jemima looked up from her laptop. Though the Nostromo buzz had melded into a hypnotic hubbub, the pshhhp of the opening door grabbed her attention every time. Her phone pinged. She looked at the message.
Let me know when ur back. Could go for lunch? Mx
Bugger off, Miles, she grumbled, flipping her phone over.
Still feeling singed from her recent blunder with Chance, a man-blaze on two fronts was more than she could handle. It had been nearly a week since they’d taken that walk around the park. Since then she’d been in Nostromo practically every day but hadn’t seen him once. She shame-shuddered as she remembered the look on his face when she’d assumed he wanted a date and then rejected him. That wasn’t just throwing the baby out with the bath water. That was throwing out the bath.
All she wanted, in a very low key, no drama way, was to put things right but how could she if he’d disappeared. She could pop up to his practice but that felt like massive overkill. So here she had sat, all week, partly working, mainly waiting. Pshhhp. Jemima glanced at the door as a woman with a shopping trolley nudged it open. Typical. Now she wanted to see him, he was nowhere in sight. She just wanted to chat with him, absorb his energy, enjoy watching his face crack into a smile. She wanted to discuss her book with someone who got it and, yes, maybe she could do all that over dinner! Jemima gasped at what felt like such a huge, massive, confession – wanting to have dinner – with a man. Yes, she was ready to have Chance as a friend and perhaps even a confidante. Anxiety over her secret – those borrowed stories – was building by the day. She needed to talk to someone, even if it was just to quieten the guilty clamour inside her brain. She didn’t often talk about her writing with Meagan and Simi. After reading her first novel, Meagan’s note had been, too much insurance stuff. But as this novel now had so much of them in it, even if she’d wanted to – she couldn’t talk to them. The book was littered with stories from Meagan and Simi’s love lives and titbits of their personalities and Jemima still hadn’t asked their permission. Why couldn’t she just blurt it out? She grimaced, knowing exactly why… because she was terrifie
d they’d say no. And then what? Heading to LA, leaving everything and everyone behind might become her only and best option. No, she was in so deep; the only way out was through. She had to speak to them. The deadline was just two weeks away. Her one saving grace was that she hadn’t used all the girls’ stories, drawing the line at Simi’s college exploits. Even though it would have worked brilliantly, it was a step too far. It was possible Meagan and Simi would appreciate that discretion at least. As she considered this, the door pshhhped opened. Jemima instantly recognised his curly brown hair and dipped down behind her laptop screen. The first time he saw her, she had to be engrossed in some moment of literary genius, not a melancholic daydreaming. She eavesdropped as he paid for his coffee and wrapped up his friendly banter with Rania. He wasn’t in scrubs today she noticed, but a casual shirt and jeans. Jemima decided her apology would be concise yet earnest then she would make a swift exit. She would leave talk of dinner to another day. As he approached, Jemima raised her hand to wave him over. At that precise moment, a woman behind her yelled, ‘Chance!’
Jemima froze, a deer in the headlights of a fast-moving awkward situation.
‘Hey!’ Chance smiled and headed towards the voice.
Jemima’s mind raced. Was Chance on some romantic rendezvous? That’s why he’d been weird when she’d assumed he wanted a date. He was already seeing someone! Jemima glanced his way once more. He still hadn’t noticed her. A swift and unnoticed getaway was still possible. She would apologise another time. She snapped her laptop closed and went to get up.
‘Jemima!’
She froze again.
‘Hey you!’ she simpered.
‘Over here, Chance!’
The voice behind Jemima sounded female, young and very Australian.
Great. Jemima was now stuck in the middle of a date sandwich.
‘How’s it going?’ Chance said pointing at her laptop, darting a look towards the voice.
‘Oh, you know,’ Jemima quivered.