by Kim Cayer
Deciding that Tad was of no help, I sat in one of the pink Louis IV-style settees. After a few minutes, Tad must have realized I wasn’t going to leave so he sighed and asked, “Can I help you?”
I sighed back and said, “I don’t know. I have a 9 a.m. appointment to read for Bluto.”
At that moment Bluto breezed in. He stopped dead when he saw me and pouted. “Oh, yes,” he seemed to recall. “Well, let’s get it over with. Come into my office.”
I still hadn’t seen any fellow actor and with some trepidation, I surmised that Tad would be my boyfriend in the scene. Tad spoke up. “Shall I hold your calls, Bluto?”
“Oh, heavens, of course not,” Bluto retorted as he swept into the office. I followed, trying to quell the butterflies in my stomach. As if that wasn’t enough, my knees were so weak they threatened to give way. Bluto sat himself behind his desk and picked up some papers. “Shall we begin with the love scene?” he asked.
I was busy digging in my bag for my photo and resume. I glanced up and asked, “Don’t we have to wait for the other actor?”
“Alice, please, I’m a very busy man,” Bluto said with a contracted-sphincter look. “I’ll be reading the scene opposite you.”
I got rattled. I was to read a LOVE scene with Bluto Parker who I knew in reality HATED me?
Boyoboy, Alice, this will take real acting. I took a deep breath, walked to the center of the room, turned my back and did a few actory things. Rolled my shoulders a couple times, put my fingers to my temples. I stood still for a brief moment before turning around to begin the scene.
“‘Nico! You came back to me!’” I gushed, throwing myself against the desk. The script had called for Nico and I to embrace but Bluto’s desk was an impediment.
Bluto leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “‘How could I stay away from you? You mean everything to me,’” my Nico said in a severely monotonous voice.
Pick up the pace, buddy! The next line was a dandy and I put most of the acting into my eyes. I knelt before his desk. “‘Oh, my darling, I’ll love you ‘til the day I die,’” I emoted, my ears tearing up. Good stuff, Alice, I mentally congratulated myself.
“‘Oh, my precious, will you be my wife?’” the robot asked. Before I could give my predesigned line, Bluto’s phone rang. He put more emotion into his “Hello” than into Nico’s lovely-written lines. “Yeah, she’s still available,” he said. My heart jumped. Me? “You want Velda Springfield for six episodes. I’ll get back to you after I speak to her agent.” He hung up and looked down at me. “You may continue.”
Lucky Velda! My knees were getting sore from where I had been kneeling for some time. I continued the scene. “Velda’s my best friend, you know…‘oh, Nico!’” I cried as I stiffly jumped up. “‘You don’t know how long I’ve waited for those words! Yes, oh, yes! When?’” Since it was impossible to follow the script directions requiring us to twirl around in each other’s arms, I just did my own little tailspin.
“‘As soon as possible, my little dove.’ Shall we move on to the next scene?” Bluto/Nico replied. I could tell Bluto had ended the scene because his last line had some emphasis to it. If this guy had been an actor, he would have been doing lousier than I. No wonder he taught acting. How does that saying go? Those who can’t, teach?
Oh, don’t get catty, Alice. But who cares? This guy ain’t even trying. He’s not giving me any kind of break. I took the bull by the horns. “Bluto, I feel I must tell you…” I said quite straightforwardly, “I know how you feel about me.”
“Alice, I told you, I’m very busy. I don’t wish to discuss personal matters.”
“My agent said you hated me and hated my acting,” I said. It hurt just repeating it.
“Do you have a problem with that?” Bluto asked.
“Well…yeah!” I sputtered. “For one thing, I think it’s getting in the way of this scene.”
“Alice,” Bluto said condescendingly, “if you are ANY kind of an ACTOR, you must learn to deal with these matters. Now, do you want to continue or call it a day?”
Alright. I’d show him what kind of actor I was. He wanted to do the argument scene, I’d give him an argument. “‘Nico, I found out you’ve been cheating on me with Lisa!’” I yelled.
Bluto got up, walked to his window and drew the blind. “Don’t rain….,” he muttered. Then he glanced at his script. “‘Honey, I wanted to tell you…’”
The script read that he take me in his arms and I shake him off. His arms weren’t anywhere near me so I stormed up to him and gave his arm a jerk. “‘You’ve been lying to me for weeks!’” I now gave his body a rough shake to put more effect into my delivery.
Bluto gave me an alarmed look then stammered out his line. “‘Listen, you mean more to me than Lisa. It’s just that….’”
“‘Just nothing!’” I screamed, giving his wastebasket one hell of a kick. “‘I can’t listen to any more of your lies!’” I sprayed spittle into his face.
“I think this reading…,” Bluto began. I don’t know if that was his next line or not; I was cooking and there was no stopping me. I blazed on with my final speech.
“‘I want you out NOW! I never want to see your face again, you FAGGOT!’” I bellowed as I slapped him in the face. Oooopps…
Did I really slap him? And hey, did I hear myself call him ‘faggot’? Please tell me I said ‘two-timer’ as the script dictated. I stood stock-still, puffing a little.
Bluto stared at me. Through gritted teeth, he said, “That…will…be…all, Alice. Good…bye.” His face was also beet red except for a white palm-print.
I fawned my way out of his office. “Thank you, Bluto…Mr. Parker. What a good actor you are! Hope I see you soon….”
* * *
Velda was over, in a state of euphoria. She’d gotten the wonderful news that she was cast in the stupid stewardess show. She brought over donuts and a couple frozen cheesecakes. “Come on, Alice!” she enthused. “Let’s celebrate!” Right, Velda. You’ll eat the holes in the donuts and make one forkful of cheesecake last an hour and I’ll devour the rest. “Let’s go and rent some videos and just laze around all day,” she suggested. “I’m not going to get to see much of you for the next couple months.”
“Sure, let’s go,” I replied with a lack of excitement. I just didn’t have a good feeling from that audi…excuse me, pre-auditon. The phone rang.
“Alice, it’s Paul,” my agent said. “Bluto just called me.”
My heart jumped. Maybe I had a part! Wait, I didn’t read for the director. Maybe I had an audition! “And…?” I said with bated breath.
“And it looks like he wants to press charges.”
“Wh…what? I don’t get it,” I stammered.
“What you may get is one to five in the pen. He said you got pretty rough with him.”
“Paul! I was acting!” Wasn’t I? I was delivering the script lines though I may have embellished a bit with the physical part. It felt so right though.
“Well, Alice, I’m going to see him later today. I’ll try and calm him down. In the meantime, obviously you won’t be getting any audition. I must say, I’m quite disappointed. I thought you were more professional than that.” Paul hung up on me.
I turned to Velda. “Well, let’s go already!” I said. “I probably won’t be seeing much of you for the next couple YEARS. I’m going to JAIL!”
Good ol’ Velda put aside her elation as she consoled me. How could I let Velda’s good fortunes come in the way of our friendship? “Listen, Alice,” Velda said as she rubbed my back, “if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll see if I can get you on the show as an extra.”
* * *
Velda and I ended up at the video store after all. She confessed that she wanted to research her role and was busy hunting for the old Airport movies. I was wandering aimlessly. I couldn’t even find a flick that I was an extra in. Sometimes it’s fun trying to find yourself in a crowd scene. In the last video I’d rented, I spotted
a close-up of my armpit. I found myself in the adult section and scurried through, not wanting to be seen there.
A title caught my eye. Whispering Limbs. My God! Wasn’t that the film I was being blackmailed for?! How dare some inept goof of an employee put it on the shelf?! I furtively glanced around and saw no one in sight. Grabbing the video, I snuck it under my snug sweater then went off in search of Velda.
I spotted her considering the Airplane comedy. “Come on, Vel, let’s get outta here,” I said out of the corner of my mouth.
“Alice, what’s that square thing under your sweater?” Velda immediately asked. Damn, I was caught. At least it was by Velda and not a store dick.
I pulled the video case out. Time to fess up. “Velda, I did this trashy movie, a skin flick. I found it in the porno section just now.”
“Alice, this store doesn’t have a porno section. So if it’s on the shelf, it can’t be that bad,” Velda noted. “Why did you have it hidden?”
“Uh…I was, like…trying to steal it.”
“Oh, Alice,” Velda laughed. “All you would have stolen is an empty video case. They keep all the cassettes behind the counter. Come on, let’s rent it.”
I ate one of the cheesecakes and three donuts before my scene came up in Whispering Limbs. So far the film had been pretty schlocky but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d been led to believe. Suddenly, there I was in that ridiculous costume. I cringed and glanced over at Velda. She was still watching rather uninterestedly. “Velda,” I whispered, “there I am…”
Velda looked harder at the screen. “That’s you? I never would’ve guessed.” We watched my scene, which lasted all of 30 seconds. As soon as it was over, I switched the tape off. Velda immediately gave me her verdict. “It was kind of a sick film, definitely not a role I’d take, but I wouldn’t get too concerned over it.”
“Would you pay 200 a month to hush it up?” I asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about but hey…you had a line. You should get a copy of that scene to show to people,” Velda suggested.
I wasn’t that proud of my scene. I looked like a prime slut. But what I was going to do was put a stop to those payments I was making to Uncle Vito. Or else put the money to good use by contacting a rival gang member of his. Surely one of them would take my money to beat the shit out of Vito.
* * *
I did it! I finally got a lead role! Grant you, it wasn’t a Spielberg spectacular but it could have been the beginning of things to come. It was the lead role in a non-union video. That resulted in the fact that I wasn’t going to be paid, and I’d have to work a twenty-hour day, and the whole crew would consist of four second-year film students and a rich guy would be the producer, director and star. I could accept those conditions because it was EXPOSURE. And never mind that, I could honestly say in future conversations, “Have you heard of The Beast Experiment? No? Oh, cuz I had the lead in that.” Real nonchalant, just a mention-it-in-passing conversation piece.
I’d be playing the wife of the caveman, obviously making me a cavewoman. It was amazing how I got the job. Paul saw an ad in ‘Savage Lovers’ magazine, of all places, and sent them my photo and resume.
The day I went in for my audition, I was asked to put my dance leotard on. Yikes! I wasn’t prepared to dance! I was wearing the wrong clothes for anything remotely connected to dancing. I had one of Velda’s skirts on which fit me like a girdle and this cute leather top that showed my chest off to great advantage, meaning it flattened them out a bit. Still, they insisted they must see me in that damn leotard. “We just happen to have an extra one if you’ve forgotten yours. Why don’t you try it on?” they casually suggested.
What luck! And to think I was going to blow the audition due to plain stupidity. An actor should be prepared, quoth Stanislavsky…or someone in his field.
They handed me the leotard…or should I say the hankie and two Band-Aids? I queasily looked up at them and saw a challenge.
“Thank you,” I said professionally as I pinched the clothing from Mr. Virgo’s outstretched hand. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”
In the bathroom of the house, I surveyed the situation. My eyes tried not to look at the pile of hair in the tub and the two cockroaches chitchatting on the bar of soap. Five minutes to get into their idea of wardrobe. I had a moment of panic when I realized it was completely impossible to wear a brassiere. There went one life-support system. But I didn’t have time to panic; I’d have to squish and poke myself into the top. Unless I could wear the top as a bottom and the bottom as a top…Nah, wouldn’t work. The bottom fit, sort of, and I could get away with the fact that I’d been meaning to shave for a couple months if I stood ten feet away. If they noticed, I’d say I was getting into character for the cavewoman.
The top was a different matter. Now, I’m a 38DD and the bra they handed me had a tag on it. Just to torment myself, I wasted five seconds to look at the tag. I didn’t allow for reaction time though. Aagghh! 32B! The bright side was that I made use of the tag to cover myself an extra centimeter. Knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do about the situation, I crammed myself into the bra, made sure the most obvious parts of my breasts weren’t showing and went out.
I had lost my composure. I dragged my feet on the way in, head hung low. I dropped into a chair and let them have their fill looking at me. I couldn’t speak; I couldn’t even put on the usual bubbly, sparkling routine an actor does to impress potential employers. “See me! I’m full of energy! I never bitch! I never sleep! I never eat! I don’t even go to the washroom! I’m the perfect guy to have on your film!” No, I didn’t even bother to suck in my gut.
Mr. Virgo finally broke the silence. “You fill the suit. You’re hired.”
* * *
I’m so glad to be home! Today was the worst day I have ever spent in this degrading, cheap, no-money useless business. Bring entertainment to millions of DVD owners? Phoeey! Read a book.
I reported to the pick-up point at 5 a.m. Public transit was not running this early so I spent Lunchpail’s cat food money for a whole month to reach God’s Country by cab. I’d be back to eating popcorn and rice again for a while and Lunchpail could enjoy the same people-food. I didn’t see him doing anything to earn his room and board so he could suffer right along with me.
Our meagre crew soon assembled. Besides the film students and the producer/star/director, there were three other cavemen and an older lady who was to play my cavemother. We spent the next 45 minutes all crowded into the back of a Rent-a-Wreck van, looking for a convenience store that was open so the boss could buy cigarettes. We also picked up some six-hour-old coffee and then drove to our location. Their plan was that we were going to take advantage of the first light and they meant the very first ray.
The van was parked and the crew immediately dispersed, leaving some bewildered caveactors sitting in the vehicle. I logically figured we should be going into hair and make-up and since I was the star, I wanted them to get started on me as soon as possible. I stepped out of the van into pitch-blackness. The only light I could see was coming from the producer/ director/star’s bald pate. I approached him and asked about make-up. Hero, which is what I shall call him as that was his character in the script, gave me his first direction. “Go talk to Sergio.”
I found Sergio on the third try. It’s difficult with such a small crew. Besides hair and make-up, Sergio was also in charge of the props, the food, and was the driver of the van.
“We want a real natural look in this film since you’re caveguys and no one wore make-up in them days,” Sergio said.
“Well, did you bring anything?” I politely enquired. “Or shall we do it ourselves?”
He pulled out a kit and opened it. Amongst the bones, clubs, a couple bags of day-old donuts and a case of the most generic brand of soda pop to be bought in a dollar store, he found a can of hairspray and a container of baby powder. “Wait,” he said as he scrounged some more. He finally found a comb among the sandwiches
. “There you go. Put the powder on your face so you don’t sweat.”
I thanked him kindly and left without the goods. I figured it was every man for himself today and I’d make sure I looked my best. It was still pretty dark out, and quite chilly to boot. I tried to make out what kind of location we were at but there still wasn’t enough light. All I could make out was the parking lot we were in. As I approached the van, the entire crew left on some fact-finding mission.
I sat on an apple crate in the van and pulled out my compact. The truck was only equipped with two front seats. Jug, one of the caveguy actors, was in the driver’s seat. The other seat was occupied by the elderly lady. Only polite, I guess, lucky wench. “Jug, could you turn on the interior lights, please?” I asked.
Jug seemed like a nice kid. Real young and eager to please. I counted on him being my friend for today. He searched high and low for the switch. “Sorry, I can’t find it,” he said. “What’d you lose?”
“Nothing. I’d like to put on my make-up. I think we have to do it ourselves.”
Jug looked terrified at my remark. I suspected he was on his first acting job. “Maybe I can sit up front and look for the switch?” I suggested.
We exchanged seats and after a few seconds, I found the switch. The only thing illuminated was the ashtray. I attempted some make-up and then decided it was going to have to be the natural look after all. Everyone was sleeping except for Jug and I and after five minutes of eerie silence, I decided to whilst the time away in conversation with him. We turned to each other and at the same time, we both spoke.