When she was walking back to her mother in the waiting room, Richard said, “Damn, she’s good!”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to be drawing conclusions,” I protested.
“Well, I know how things transfer to screen. And that, my friend, is going to transfer well.”
I was glad that it was Stacy, and not Amelia, who was next. As if she sensed that someone better than her had been on the set just a few minutes before, Stacy never really calmed down. She rushed her lines, accidentally hit Dallas in the face when she was supposed to be patting him on the shoulder, and blanked during one of Jacqueline’s pivotal moments. She was near tears by the time it was over.
“Next!” the stage manager called.
Amelia came in and made a beeline to Dallas, shaking his hand and flirting mercilessly. Maybe the others couldn’t tell she was flirting, but I knew her style, and I knew what she was doing. It wasn’t a serious flirt, but it was enough to make me feel a little weird. I had kind of wanted to be there when Amelia met Dallas; it seemed strange that they were talking together without me. In any other circumstance, I would have gone over and talked with them both. But I knew Richard was watching, and I didn’t want him to continue to connect Amelia with me.
Tillman walked her through the shots just like he’d walked everyone else; since she’d never had to do a scene for the cameras before, it took Amelia a little longer to get the hang of it. The first time she and Dallas ran through it, she kept turning in the wrong direction or overacting in a way that would work for long shots but would be deadly for close-ups.
But that, really, wasn’t the hardest part for me to watch. I’d been worried that when the time came, Amelia would seem too much like Amelia for me to really judge her as Sarah. But now that she was doing it, Amelia wasn’t playing herself.
No, instead she was playing me.
It took me a minute or two to catch on. There had been a few times when we’d been rehearsing that Amelia had asked me to read Sarah’s lines while she read Ryan’s—just so she could understand his part, too, she said. But now I realized what else she’d been doing—she’d been catching my intonations as Sarah and was now trying to replicate them. Because, quite simply, she thought I was the character. And if she could imitate me well, she’d get the part.
It was too late to tell her that when I read Sarah’s lines to myself, it wasn’t my own voice I heard. It was someone else’s.
Amelia’s Sarah was a wreck—the kind of person who sees herself as devoted but is seen by everyone else as needy.
Is that how you really see me? I wondered.
Then I forced myself to remember it was just a character. Amelia was playing a character. In my voice.
There was no way I could objectively judge Amelia’s performance. Instead I looked at Dallas when it was over. He didn’t seem nearly as aghast as he was after Genna or as sympathetic as he was after Stacy blew it. But he didn’t seem as enamored as he was with Francesca or as inspired as he was with Alexis.
Next, Amelia had to read as Jacqueline, and even I had to admit that she bombed. Instead of trying to act like me, she seemed to me trying to act like my mom, and it just didn’t work. A sixteen-year-old playing a forty-five-year-old playing a sixteen-year-old might have worked for a comedy (especially one watched by gayboys), but it wasn’t working for this audition. The good part was that clearly Amelia didn’t want the part—she wanted Sarah’s.
When it was all over, everyone thanked Amelia and Amelia thanked everyone. Then she was off, heading back home alone since I had to stay to talk to Richard and Annie. Dallas, too, hovered around until it was clear that nobody was going to ask his opinion. Then he and Francesca said good-bye to me and went off together.
“You think they’re a couple?” Richard asked me.
I tried not to growl in reply.
“Well,” Annie said, “that went well. I think we definitely have our girls here.”
I didn’t ask her which ones. But I had a sinking suspicion that she wasn’t talking about Amelia.
Later on when Richard and I were alone for a second, I reminded him of my one demand.
“Amelia has to be Sarah,” I told him. “I don’t care who’s Jacqueline. But Amelia’s the one I’m writing Sarah for.”
“Are you so sure?” he said. “Why don’t you try writing now and see who comes to mind the most?” He studied my reaction. “Okay, so you’re sticking to your guns. I admire that—to a point. We’ll see the tapes, and then we’ll all decide.”
The message was clear: This was out of my hands.
But I would have to find a way to put it back in my hands.
For Amelia’s sake.
That night I went over to Amelia’s house. Even Jake seemed to be in a happy mood.
“She thinks it went well,” he said to me while she went to get some sparkling grape juice to toast with. “Did it?”
“She was great,” I assured him. “Really great.”
When Amelia got back, she asked me when the actual decision would be made.
“Soon,” I said. “Probably real soon. I don’t think they’re going to ask any other actresses to audition.”
“Wish me luck!” Amelia said.
And I wondered: Why had that simple request become so complicated?
When I got home, I tried to work on a new script. I tried to picture Amelia as I was writing Sarah.
But Richard was right: Other faces were creeping in.
I shoved them out.
Amelia was my best friend. She would be my Sarah.
————
Mom was back in the house, but I couldn’t talk to her. She was in storm mode, and I kept out of the way and waited for it to blow past. I had no doubt that her advice would be to cut Amelia loose. Which only made me want to hold on more.
Work is work, she’d say. Don’t make it personal.
But life was personal. And work had to do with life. There was no separating them, not at this point.
I wanted to talk to someone. But I couldn’t call Keith. And Dallas and I hadn’t made it to that point. Especially not with Francesca around.
I started to panic. My body started to freak out.
Richard called. I shouldn’t have answered. But I did.
“What is it?” I asked, my voice cracking.
“Are you on drugs?” he asked back.
“Why? Does it sound like I’m on drugs?”
“Either that or you’ve been sucking at the teat of a Red Bull.”
“Bulls don’t have teats, Richard. And I’m just panicking. No biggie.”
“Oh lord—I hadn’t realized we’d placed the panic button so close to your cradle.”
“Is that a young joke, Richard?”
“It could be interpreted as such. Especially by someone who’s panicking.”
“If you want me to start making the old jokes, just give me the word. I can start calling you Middle-Aged Richard at any moment.”
“Touché. How about you get some sleep? I believe it’s been known to have a positive effect when dealing with stress.”
“How would you know? You don’t sleep.”
“I sleep all the time. Just never when you’re around.”
“Richard, why did you call?”
“The tapes will be ready tomorrow.”
With that sentence, he guaranteed my night would be sleepless.
Keith tried to call. I set his number to its own ring, so I wouldn’t answer.
The next day at school, Scooter told me all the soap-opera sites were abuzz about big changes at the networks. There was some gossip that Good As Gold might be failing. This, I figured, explained my mother’s bad mood.
I asked Scooter if there was any gossip about Likely Story.
“There was one blogger who had this headline: ‘Likely Story: Likely Happening?’”
I panicked some more.
Richard called me again that afternoon.
“The tapes are in. I’m havin
g a copy brought over to you. Watch it a few times, make your opinion, then you’ll come in tomorrow and we’ll discuss.”
An hour later, Greg was at my door with the disc.
“Trip let you out of his sight?” I asked him.
He smiled and nervously loosened his already loose tie.
“They don’t trust the messenger services anymore,” he said. “It all ends up on YouTube.”
He handed over the DVD, and I realized I didn’t want him to leave. I didn’t want to do this alone. “Do you want to come in and watch with me?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “I’m under strict orders: Drop this off and tell you to watch it alone.”
“What if I never told?” I said.
He exaggeratedly looked around, as if there were spies in all of the hedges. “Your mom at home?”
I shook my head.
“Good,” he said. “Because she scares the crap out of me.”
“I’m going to tell her you said that,” I joked.
He turned paler than paper.
“Kidding,” I said.
“Yeah, warn me about that ahead of time from now on, okay?”
I led him straight to the den. He was clearly in awe of his surroundings. I wanted to tell him we’d never even made the Star Maps that tourists buy for their Hollywood vacations.
“You’ve got lovely eaves,” he said.
“Well, that’s the first time a boy’s ever said that to me,” I said back.
He blushed. I put the DVD into the player and … stressed. I positioned myself on the couch. Held out the remote. Pressed PLAY.
“Here we go,” I told Greg.
“Wheeee!” he cried.
“No discussion until we’ve seen it all,” I warned him.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“And no hanky-panky.”
“I think you’re safe.”
After an endless disclaimer about how people not supposed to be watching it shouldn’t be watching it, the reel began. The editor had done a fantastic job—each audition now looked like it was part of an actual episode, with long shots and close-ups and different angles within each scene. There were the same edits for each audition, so the only thing different would be the actresses’ performances. I almost felt like I was in my mother’s position now—sitting on the couch, watching my own work (even if I myself wasn’t on the screen). I was amazed at how easily Dallas transferred his charisma from life to screen; the fact that he was on an HD screen didn’t stop my blood from moving a little bit quicker at the sight of him.
Down, girl, I thought. You’re here to focus on the Sarahs and the Jacquelines, not the Ryan.
Francesca, I was happy to see, didn’t come across well as Sarah. Although she was beautiful, it was an icy beauty, and I didn’t find myself caring about her problems while she let them all out.
The qualities that doomed her as Sarah worked in her favor for Jacqueline. She came across as heartless, manipulative—someone you want to root against.
Alexis was Francesca’s opposite—warm where Francesca was cold, sympathetic where Francesca was psychopathic. This wasn’t what I was hoping for. I didn’t want her to be that good. The pit in my stomach started moving to my brain.
Genna and Stacy were both disasters—for some reason, I’d been afraid that Genna’s stupendous feats of mangled articulation would somehow translate into something TV-worthy, but instead she seemed like a bad translation of a human being.
Then it was time to watch Amelia. I swore to myself that I’d be objective. I’d watch her audition like I didn’t know her. I’d judge her purely on her merits.
That lasted for about two seconds.
I watched Amelia as Sarah once. Then a second time. Then a third time. I checked out her chemistry with Dallas. I pondered her acting ability. I imagined her in the other scenes as Sarah.
All my observations pointed to the same conclusion:
Amelia was good.
Not great. Not bad.
Good.
So then the question became: Was good really good enough?
It was, I figured, a matter of priorities. Which was more important to me—my best friend or having the best possible person play Sarah? Because I liked to think of myself as the kind of best friend who would put the friendship first, I knew what I had to do.
Good would have to be good enough.
“So what do you think?” I asked Greg when it was all over.
He mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key.
“What?” I said. “You’re not allowed to say?”
“Rrrp mmmd ulw hmm,” he replied.
“Unlock your lips.”
He did.
“Trip would kill me. I’m not even supposed to be here, remember?”
I wanted to ask him about Amelia … but suddenly I was afraid. Afraid that he’d tell me she was bad. And also a little afraid that he’d spread word back that I had doubts.
“Fair enough,” I told him. “You were never here.”
“But I had a good time while I wasn’t here,” he said, standing up. “I’ll tell them I got caught in traffic.”
“Thank God for traffic,” I said.
“I’m sure you’ll make the right choices,” he told me before he left.
And I thought, But how well do you know me, really?
When Amelia called me that night, she asked if I’d seen the tapes.
I told her she was great.
I told her she was going to be a star.
I told her we were in this together.
She said she’d never, ever been happier. And that made it all worth it for me.
I thought about it for about two seconds. Then I went in my mother’s room, found the page in her address book reserved for her exes—I think she liked having them on a list with each other—and gave Trip a call.
“What were you thinking?!?” Richard shouted. “How could you be so blind to how this would play out? This could ruin us all!”
Richard, it appeared, was not taking my decision well.
“Don’t you think you’re being a little melodramatic?”
“You should not have told Trip Carver your preferences before you talked to me.”
“I didn’t tell him my preferences, Richard. I told him that I insisted on Amelia being cast as Sarah. You make it sound like I gave him a choice.”
It didn’t quite play out that way—it was really a friendly conversation between Trip and his former stepdaughter. And I’d done it before I talked to Richard because I knew this was how Richard was going to react.
“You can’t seriously tell me you think she is the best actress for the role,” Richard said. “The last time I checked, you still had eyes and ears that were in working condition.”
His face was so red that I felt if I reached over and loosened the top button of his shirt, steam would come out.
At this point, Annie walked into Richard’s office, followed by Tracy and Phil.
“Oh my,” she said, looking at me and Richard. “Have we already jumped to the conflict stage?”
“Mallory has already talked to Mr. Carver and has insisted that her friend Amelia be given the part of Sarah,” Richard said.
“Is that so?” Annie said, sitting down and gesturing for the rest of us to do the same. “Why don’t we discuss this first, before we reach any conclusions.”
Phil put the audition tape into the player in Richard’s office, and we watched it yet again.
When it was through, Annie said, “I’ve been doing this for thirty years now. I like to think I know what I’m doing. But even still, I talked at length with Tracy and Phil about it, soliciting their opinions. And we all agree: Alexis is the best Sarah and Francesca is the best Jacqueline.”
“But what about Amelia?” I asked.
Annie looked at me patiently. “Amelia is a good actress, Mallory. And it’s possible we can find a smaller part for her. But she doesn’t have, at this point, either the exper
ience or the talent to be the lead in a soap opera. It would not just be unfair to the show, but it would be unfair to her to put her in such a position. I’ve seen girls break under much less strain than that.”
“She can take it,” I said.
“You see how stubborn she’s being?” Richard complained.
“Quiet, Richard,” Annie reprimanded. Then she turned to me. “Mallory? Look me in the eye, Mallory.”
There wasn’t any way to avoid it. I looked her straight in the eye.
“Do you think Amelia is the best person for the role?” she asked me.
“I think she’s good enough,” I replied.
Annie nodded, then continued. “So you’re willing to risk not only your own show but the employment of hundreds of other people on ‘good enough.’”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“Think about it,” Annie told me. “We’re meeting with the network tomorrow to discuss this and other plans for Likely Story. Hopefully we’ll get the green light then.”
“Haven’t we already gotten the green light?” I asked.
Richard interrupted. “It’s not like there’s only one green light,” he said. “It’s more like a long road of traffic lights, and you hit ’em one by one.”
“I’m trusting that you’ll realize that it’s always best to have the best person,” Annie went on. “I plan on making my recommendations to the network, and I believe Richard will be making the same choices. You have to understand, Mallory: We know what we’re doing. We are professionals. This is not meant to be condescending to you—I have no doubt that you are our equal in many areas, especially with your upbringing. But I think your motives are clouded right now, and while I was willing to humor your wishes until now, the time has come to make the choice that even you must realize is the right one.”
I stayed silent as Annie, Richard, Tracy, and Phil listed the reasons Alexis and Francesca were the right choices. I could tell that they were really excited with the job they had done, and that they thought Alexis, Francesca, and Dallas would be the perfect leads.
Right before Annie left, she asked me again to think things over. Then she, Phil, and Tracy left me alone with Richard.
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