Off Script

Prologue

I had imagined this moment so many times, the daydream sustaining me through a hundred late-night bar shifts and a thousand miserable auditions.

Through sleepless nights wondering what, exactly, was so wrong with me that I’d decided to pursue an acting career, sacrificing financial and emotional stability and any chance I might have had at a ‘normal’ life for one filled with anxiety and rejection.

Through call after call to say that they’d gone with someone else, my stomach swooping in a downward arc of disappointment that was becoming so familiar I now picked up the phone ready, poised like a carriage at the top of a rollercoaster.

But despite it all, the hope persisted.

That this time, it would be different.

That this time, it would be me.

I’d imagine where I’d be, what I’d say. How it would feel, to know I finally, finally had a chance at making it as an actor.

And when it came, I wasn’t ready for it.

And I certainly wasn’t ready for what happened next.

‘What?’ I said on the phone to my agent, my heart hammering so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest.

‘You heard me right. They want to do a screen test.’

‘A screen test?’ I repeated the words as if I was hearing them for the first time.

‘A screen test, Lara. On Monday. Their two leads have dropped out, so they’re on a bit of a time crunch to replace them. They have a new male lead lined up, but they’re looking for a female lead pretty immediately. Can you get time off work?’

I hesitated for a second. I’d just taken on a 9–5 because the regular bar shifts I’d been working no longer covered rent for my box room in a shared house on the outskirts of London. But of course, that didn’t matter in the moment. I’d find a way.

‘Of course,’ I said.

‘Great,’ she replied smoothly, a glimmer of excitement under her professional tone.

Natalie was an up-and-coming junior at one of the biggest agencies in London.

She had spotted me performing in a small pub theatre a few years ago, when I’d been at the lowest point of my career, and had signed me the following week.

I’d called my mum and cried down the phone, saying this was it: I’d finally got my big break.

But a few years had passed since then and nothing had happened, aside from the occasional local theatre production and some advertising work.

I’d been stalling, increasingly struggling to justify this career choice.

My confidence that I’d make it if only I kept trying tempered by the lack of evidence that I ever would.

‘Nat,’ I said, beginning to shake. ‘Is this actually happening? I’m not lucid dreaming, right?’

‘It’s happening,’ she said, sounding as astounded as me. We were silent for a few seconds, our shared excitement filling the space. A small, bright flame lit inside me, spreading warmth through my limbs.

A screen test was huge – way further than I’d ever been in the process before.

This audition had been a complete shot in the dark – for a screen adaptation of one of my favourite books, about a female detective investigating a string of murders in 1800s London.

As dream roles went, it was pretty much at the top of the list. And it had hit me harder than I thought it would, to find out I’d lost out to someone else.

Even though at the time I’d reasoned I’d had a snowball’s chance in hell of getting it anyway.

But now, through fate or circumstance, I was one of the few front-runners for the role.

Perhaps, just perhaps, this would be it, I thought, a spike of joy travelling up my spine.

The break I’d been waiting for while I tried desperately for years to keep my eyes focused on the next audition, the next tape, the next shot.

You only have to get lucky once, my dad had said to me when I’d first started.

For a half-second, I allowed myself to imagine a future of financial freedom and creative liberation, my dreams being fulfilled over and over again.

Then Nat spoke again and my stomach dropped to the floor.

‘The new male lead is Avi Kumar – that’s who you’ll be testing with.’

‘Sorry?’ I said, shaking myself back to reality. Surely she couldn’t have said that name.

She repeated herself, the words hitting me this time. Each one landing like a dart to my chest.

Shit.

Avi Kumar: one of the world’s most famous men, gracing the cover of GQ as its Man of the Year last year. Described as ‘the Darling of Hollywood’, cast in everything from Marvel films to rom-coms to period dramas, hailed as responsible for ushering in a new generation of male British actors.

But I didn’t know that Avi Kumar.

I knew the funny, dishevelled Avi Kumar I had met when I’d first moved to London.

Who’d shown me the ropes at the theatre pub where we’d both worked as struggling actors – the same one Nat had found me in – and who had taught me to pull the perfect pint.

Whom I’d shared my dreams with… because they’d been his, too.

Whom I’d felt like I could be myself around, perhaps for the first time in my life.

Who had broken my heart and left for Hollywood, disappearing from my life slowly, then completely. Leaving me wondering what, exactly, I’d done wrong.

‘Right.’ I practically choked. Oh, God.

‘You’ll be great,’ Nat said, worry entering her tone. ‘I know he’s a huge name, Lara, but—’

‘It’s fine,’ I lied. If only she knew the half of it. I had imagined this moment so many times. Finally being in a room with Avi. Finally being able to ask him all the questions that had burned in my mind for months afterwards, as I’d watched his career take off, his face everywhere I’d looked.

But the audition wouldn’t be the place for that. It would be a chance for me to prove myself. To finally get the career of my dreams.

I just never thought it would be like this.

And I felt suddenly, inexplicably… terrified.

‘I know him, from before he was famous,’ I continued, levelling my tone so she couldn’t hear the emotions burning through me. ‘So I was just a little shocked to hear the name, that’s all.’

‘You know him?’ she said, sounding shell-shocked herself. ‘How did I not know this, Lara?’ she asked, clearly meaning we-very-much-could-have-used-this-connection.

‘We haven’t spoken in a while,’ I said, regretting mentioning it now. I suddenly felt a little faint. ‘Since he got famous, actually.’

‘Ah,’ she replied, seeming to sense that it was a sore subject and that she shouldn’t press further.

‘Well – you’re in the room now. He might be a big name, but you’re there too.

And that’s all that matters, in the moment.

And the notes I have from other clients are that he’s very professional to screen-test with, if that helps. ’

It didn’t help – it didn’t help at all.

‘Thanks, Nat,’ I said anyway, my heart pounding at the thought of seeing him in person again.

For a hair’s breadth of a second, it was almost enough to make me want to call the whole thing off. But I had promised myself I’d give this everything I had.

No matter what.

I just didn’t know how it would feel, to see him after all this time.

‘So, Monday then,’ Nat said, clearing her throat. ‘I’ll email you the details.’

‘Looking forward to it.’ I was half lying. I still felt like I was about to vomit with nerves – at the thought of seeing Avi, or about the audition, I wasn’t sure.

But even still, excitement coursed through my veins, my hand shaking as I hung up the phone.

Shit.

This could be it. This could finally, finally be it.

And in that moment, determination washed over me.

Avi Kumar or no Avi Kumar, I was going to do everything it took to get that part.