by Sara Hantz
It’s like she’s got a hotline to Bill, practically repeating his every word. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that Bill talked to them both before he even approached me to get them on his side. All we’ll need now is Mom to get involved, and we’ll have triple the fun. I get that they think they’re ganging up on me for my own good, but maybe they should leave me alone to make my own decisions. Which I am quite capable of doing. Most of the time.
“A once-in-a-lifetime chance,” Matt says. “That’s what I’ve been telling her.”
“Exactly,” says Liv, folding her arms and subconsciously assuming her I-am-a-wall-and-nothing’s-going-to-get-past-me goalie stance.
“Look, if you’re so thrilled, then you go,” I say to Liv. “You’d be much better than me.” I conveniently ignore the fact that unless she has a hockey stick in her hand, Liv hits about as effectively as Kermit the Frog. “There’s bound to be hundreds of people there. You know what these movie crews are like. Even the assistant to the assistant kitchen hand has an assistant. I’d sooner be fed to sharks than have to face all that.”
“That can be arranged,” Liv retorts. “Don’t underestimate us just because we’re in Nebraska.” She turns her body toward me and rests her hands on my shoulders. “Look,” she continues, her voice slightly more gentle than before. “I’m your best friend, and I know you better than anyone else.” She’s right about that. I owe her big time. We started school the same day, and I couldn’t have coped without her protection from the merciless, teasing bullies. She’s been fighting my fights and standing up for me for as long as I can remember. “There’s no way it’ll be as bad as you imagine. You don’t even have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to, so don’t worry about that. They want you for your kickboxing; just pretend it’s one of your matches.”
She makes it sound so easy, but then it would be for her. She couldn’t care less about walking into a room full of strangers and talking to them. I’m feeling beyond sick just thinking about it.
“I suppose that could work.” I bite down on the inside of my mouth as I process what she’s been saying.
I love Liv to bits, and I know she has my interests at heart, but she’ll never know what it’s like, however much I try to explain. It’s not her fault. You have to experience wanting to say something and not being able to get the words out to know what it feels like.
“Of course it will work,” she says. “Just remember, it’s only an audition, so it’s not like the real thing. You’re not going to be faced with all the actors and crew, are you?”
“I guess not.” I sigh. Something tells me Liv’s already made the decision for me.
“So you’ll go?” she asks, her eyes bright with anticipation.
“I’m still not sure,” I say.
“Abi, stop it. You can do this. Have some faith in yourself. After all you’ve been through together, do you really think Bill would ask you if he thought you couldn’t?”
“She’s right,” Matt adds. “If Bill thinks you’ll be okay, you will be. Go on. Tell him yes. We’ll come with you to the audition if you want.”
“Sure,” Liv replies, nodding, which causes her dark bangs to fall across her forehead. “It’ll be hard having to hang around a movie set with lots of celebs. But I’ll be there for you, Abi, because that’s the sort of thing best friends do for each other.”
She bursts out laughing and Matt follows. I can see I’m fighting a losing battle. I smile at them both—at least I think it’s a smile. I’m probably going to regret this, but what the hell.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll go.” A shiver shoots down my spine, and I’m not sure whether it’s from excitement or fear. Whatever. If this does work out, I can never again complain about my life being boring. Not that I ever do, but just saying.
“Awesome. And just think, when you’re famous there’ll be a line of guys wanting your number. How cool would that be?” A dreamy expression crosses her face.
Guys all wanting my number, huh? That would be a first. We’d see how many were left standing after I took an hour to recite it to them. I glance across at Matt, to see if the thought of guys wanting to ask me out bothers him at all, but all he’s doing is grinning. Probably thinking that I’ll be able to introduce him to Tilly. Well, that’s definitely not on my agenda.
“I haven’t got the job yet,” I say. “I’ve got to audition first. And there’s every chance that I’ll get there and then make a mad dash away from the place.”
“I can assure you, that’s not going to happen. I’ll be holding your hand every step of the way.” She folds her arms tightly across her chest and narrows her eyes, her lips locked together in grim determination. You don’t mess with Liv when she’s like this. Not if you know what’s good for you.
Chapter Two
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Mom asks as I’m heading out the door to where Matt’s waiting to take me to the audition.
We’ve had this discussion a few times, but I persuaded her that I’ll be fine going with Matt. I don’t think bringing parents to an audition is a great look for a stunt girl. I’m eighteen, not eight. Liv wanted to come, too, but she had hockey practice.
“I’m sure. I’ll call you after.”
“Okay. Good luck and break a leg.”
I laugh. “Now you’ve done it. Actors say break a leg instead of good luck, since saying that is bad luck.”
I’m still smiling to myself as I run down the drive and hop into the car.
Matt starts the engine, and we take off down the road with a squeal of tires. Matt owns an old BMW, and he likes to push it to its limits.
“How do you feel?” he asks, fast approaching a Honda Civic that seems to be creeping along at just under the speed limit.
“I’ve had better days,” I say. “And Matt, slow down! Unless you want to kill me before my audition and put me out of my misery.”
He hits the brakes, and a gap forms between us and the car ahead. I check the side mirror and relax my tense muscles. Thank goodness there’s no one close behind, or we’d have been in trouble.
“Sorry,” he says.
“Well, keep your eyes on the road and not on the girl in the car next to us,” I say shaking my head.
“What girl?” We come to a stop next to a small blue hatchback, but the blond ponytail I’d glimpsed on the driver turns out to belong to a woman who has to be at least in her forties. Oops. “I wasn’t looking at a girl,” Matt continues. “I just don’t want you to be late. It makes you tense.”
Okay, so maybe I misjudged him. This time. He knows that there’s an anal time-keeping gene in my family, which I inherited, and we are never late for anything. As in never. It drives Matt and Liv crazy at times, since they’re much more relaxed about time than me.
I glance down at my waterproof Armitron watch—one I can sweat all over at the gym without busting it—which isn’t exactly at the height of fashion. “The audition isn’t for another thirty minutes.” And the studio, where I’m meeting this Danny character, is only about ten minutes away.
“In my world, you have plenty of time. In Abi world, we’re almost late,” says Matt. “And, knowing you, you’ll need the bathroom to freshen up.”
“Throw up, more like,” I mutter. For the last two days, I’ve eaten virtually nothing and spent the time in a permanent state of panic. My concentration’s been totally shot, even at the dojo. I’ve played over and over in my mind how I think it’s going to go and am convinced that I’m going to be a total screw up. Doing choreographed fight scenes for a movie isn’t kickboxing. It’s never gonna be kickboxing. So what the hell was I on when I agreed to try it? How many more times in my life do I have to look like a fool? Bile rises in my throat. I’ve made a big mistake.
“I can’t do it, Matt. I’m sorry. Turn the car around.”
Matt pulls over to the curb and turns to face me. He takes my hand in his and gives it a squeeze, causing my stomach to knot. I remind myself it’s only don
e in friendship, nothing else. “Don’t back out now. It’s just nerves, and they’ll go once it starts. Let’s sit here for a few minutes and talk about something totally unrelated to the audition.”
Just looking at the concerned expression on his face soothes my nerves a little. He has this way of grounding me.
“Okay,” I say, glancing down at our still-joined hands and then back up at him. “How’s Selina?”
Selina is his latest girlfriend. Not that he sees her often, since he spends so much time at the dojo and with Liv and me.
“We’re not together any more. She wanted me to meet her parents. And you know I don’t do that.”
I certainly do. As far as he’s concerned, meeting the parents means the relationship is serious. And the one thing he doesn’t want is a serious relationship. This is why he can never know how I feel about him. Girlfriends come and go for Matt. And he flirts like there’s no tomorrow. With friends he’s different. As a friend, there’s no one more reliable or true than Matt. He’s always got your back. No way am I going to risk that.
“Another one bites the dust,” I say arching an eyebrow.
“Yep.” He looks at his own sports watch, the guy’s version of mine. “So are you going to go to the audition, or…?”
I tell myself to stop being stupid and to suck it up. Because if I don’t do this, then the next time something comes along I might not do that either. I don’t mean another movie audition, because that’s hardly likely, but anything else.
“Okay, I’ll go. Because when they turn me down, which they will, no one, a.k.a. you and Liv, will be able to moan at me for not giving it my best shot.”
I sit up straight in the seat and draw in what an old speech therapist once called “a positive breath.” I can do this. I can.
“Good. Because you’re gonna kill it.” Matt turns on the engine and pulls out into the road.
We drive for another few minutes then he turns into the studio parking lot. He parks and practically leaps out of the car while I take my time. Zodiac Studios, where they’re holding the audition, is a small office-type building that looks about ready to be demolished. It’s gray brick, and I count five floors. Fire escape stairs snake down the east wall of the building, facing us. It seems pretty deserted. There are only two other cars parked there. We head toward the main entrance.
Before I can change my mind and decide to remain in the car indefinitely, the passenger-side door swings open, and Matt tugs me out. He then propels me to the studio’s front entrance. Can’t be any harder than a tournament match, right?
“I’ll go the rest of the way on my own,” I announce, shaking him off before he can reach for the door handle.
“Why don’t I go in with you?” he asks, biting his full lower lip with concern.
“Thanks, but I don’t know if it’s allowed.”
His green-and-gold eyes fix on mine, and he starts running his palms up and down my shoulders, looking as if he wants to say something. But he doesn’t. He breaks contact and shrugs. “Okay. I’ll see you back at the car.”
After watching Matt stroll across the parking lot, I push open the door and follow the red arrows on the sign saying reception.
The reception area turns out to be just a small room with a glass window that has a space underneath to talk through. An old woman is sitting at a desk behind the window speaking on the phone. She mouths “one minute,” and I take a step away so she doesn’t think I’m trying to listen. Though it’s hard not to hear everything she says since her voice is really loud. My ears prick up when she mentions Danny’s name and tells the caller he has an appointment this afternoon but should be free in about an hour, maybe less.
That’s strange. How many people is he going to be able to see in an hour? Not many. Unless we’re auditioning as a group. I hope so. A group audition, with any luck, won’t require me to speak as much.
“Abi Saunders?” The sound of the woman’s voice cuts across my thoughts.
“Um, yes.” I frown. How does she know my name before I’ve even spoken?
“You’re a little early.” Tell me something I don’t know. It’s the story of my life. “So, if you take a seat over there.” She points to a threadbare red-striped sofa crammed against the opposite wall. “Danny will be with you as soon as he can.”
“Thanks.”
“The bathroom is through the double doors, first door on the right,” she adds as I walk away.
The bathroom is in the same state of disrepair as the rest of the place. There’s an old white sink with green stains down the back from where water has dripped, and the taps look so rusty, it wouldn’t surprise me if they didn’t turn at all. The room isn’t dirty. Just old. I don’t know what I expected for a film studio but not something like this. Then again, Bill did say Zodiac is an indie studio—which it would have to be, being located in Nebraska of all places—so they won’t have the money they do for the big blockbuster Hollywood movies.
I glance at my reflection in the cracked mirror. Big mistake. My skin’s devoid of any color. I pinch my cheeks a few times, and they become pinker. If only I could fix my pounding heart so easily. Some more deep breathing may do the trick. I often do deep breathing before matches, to get myself in the zone.
After a few more minutes, and feeling calmer than before, I go back to the reception. Just in time, because as soon as I push open the door, the old woman speaks.
“Here she is. Abi, this is Danny.”
Danny’s so tall I have to strain my neck to look up at him. He must be close to seven feet. The opposite of Bill, who I can look square in the eye since he’s only about five feet six. Danny’s six-pack shows through his dark red tee. He must work out for hours every day. He’s not even that young. Looks about the same age as Dad, and he’s forty-five.
He strides over to meet me.
“Hello, Abi. Good to meet you.” He smiles, and it doesn’t come off as cheesy and fake like a stereotypical Hollywood producer—it lights up his whole face. He holds out his hand for me to shake, leaning down slightly in the process.
“H-h-hi.” I shake his hand and curse inside my head for not even managing to get one word out without stuttering. I draw in some deep breaths without being too obvious to try and calm myself down.
“I don’t know what Bill told you, but we need a stunt double for Tilly to start ‘yesterday,’ since our original girl injured herself. She’s done a lot of the more difficult stunts, but we still have quite a few choreographed fight scenes left. Bill has told me great things about you. His star student.” He grins. I smile back weakly. “Right. Let’s get started.” He rubs his hands together. “Is Studio One okay, Jean?” Danny calls over to the old woman, or Jean, as I now know her. She glances down.
“For the next forty-five minutes, then Dave wants it.”
“Thanks, we should be out by then. C’mon Abi.”
I follow Danny through the double doors and down a long corridor. Eventually, we get to Studio One. It’s smaller than I’d imagined and is bare except for five cameras surrounding the big wooden floor. There’s a guy standing beside one of the cameras.
“Make yourself at home,” Danny says after introducing me to the camera guy. “Take five minutes to warm up.”
“O-o-okay.”
I go to the back of the studio floor and take off my shoes and jeans. Underneath, I wore my black leggings, as roundhouse and axe kicks are too hard to do in jeans. Not that I know whether he wants me to do any. I just wanted to be prepared.
I begin to relax while I’m doing my warm-up stretching exercises. It’s just like being in class. I can do this.
I glance up and see Danny talking to the camera guy, who then wheels the camera to about three feet away from me.
“Ignore us,” Danny says. “We’re just setting up. Tell us once you’ve finished, and we’ll start recording.”
That’s easier said than done. How am I expected to ignore them when they’re so close. As in, in my bubble close?
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I pull my right arm across my chest, stretching my triceps and shoulder muscles. I take my time warming up, and not just because I’m procrastinating—the last thing I want is an injury. There’s a match in a few weeks that I need to be one-hundred percent fit for if I’m going to take the trophy. Because I sure as heck don’t think I’ll be cast in Tilly’s movie.
“I-I-I’m r-r-r-ready,” I say after a few minutes.
“Are you okay?” He frowns and looks in my direction.
Oh, God, didn’t Bill tell him?
The mixture of concern and puzzlement in Danny’s eyes is far from reassuring, because it takes me back to how the teachers used to be at school, when my stammer was bad. They tried to hide it, but I could see their impatience at having to wait for me to say the words. It was mortifying.
“U-u-u-um, y-y-yes. I th-th—.” I want to curl up behind one of the cameras and die. Why did I let Liv and Matt talk me into doing this? I should have gone with my gut and said no. I know my limits. “I th-th-think s-s-s—”
With a glance at the cameraman, who is making a big show of adjusting his equipment, Danny walks over to me and sits down on the floor, patting the space in front of him. I gladly give up on finishing my sentence and join him. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, obviously trying not to embarrass me in front of the camera guy. “But maybe you’re not right for this. Bill said you have the technical skills, but there’s a certain”—he waves his hand in the air, trying to conjure the right word—“confidence that Tilly has, that her stunt double also needs in order to pull it off. I don’t think it’s going to work, Abi.”
My jaw drops. He’s handing me the chance to back out. Well, not the chance, he’s actually made the decision for me. Except I’m not sure it’s what I want. I’ve spent years trying to control my stammer and not let it control my life, and here’s one situation out of the ordinary, and I lose it. I’m suddenly possessed by the feeling that I can’t let this happen.
“L-let me try. Please,” I say, relieved that most of the words came out on the first attempt.