Now Daxon
Now DAXON
T he first thing I notice about Wil when she comes into the studio is that her eyes are puffy. Her face is flushed.
She wears a black tank top and jeans, her short, auburn hair tucked behind her ears. And she’s so pretty, frowning because it’s early or because she’s nervous, that I can almost forget about the stakes here.
If this doesn’t work, we’re back to square one, and whatever pieces of our past selves we excavated last night could turn to dust.
“Hi?” she breathes from the doorway. “They said you were ready for me?”
“Hey, come on in,” I say. “Greg, this is Wil Chase.”
Greg, our director, extends a hand to Wil and she takes it, giving a comparatively softer shake than the sturdy, no-bullshit one I know from years ago. She’s clutching her script and headshot to her chest like a new kid on the first day of school—like they’re her lifeline.
“Daxon says you’re something else,” says Greg. A nervous breath of laughter falls out of Wil’s mouth, but she doesn’t say anything else.
“She’s incredible,” I add. Her eyes hit mine, grateful and nervous, before they drop to the carpet.
“You ready?” Greg is looking at Wil, and she can only nod.
“Let’s go,” I say.
Our casting director, Nancy, has Wil stand on two crossed pieces of neon tape stuck to the carpet in front of the camera. “Let’s start with a slate.” Nancy’s got this inviting, easy way about everything she says and does. She’s rooting for you before you’ve even opened your mouth.
Wil licks her lip. I watch her through the monitor. And it’s not the most high-def feed or anything, but it’s clearer to me than ever that the camera loves her.
“Hi, I’m Wilhelmina Chase,” she says to camera.
I remember Wil’s slate from our Marnie audition. Not that I was there in the room watching her or anything, but I was sitting out in the waiting room, and her voice was so strong, so loud, so completely confident, that it bled through the walls and filled up the place. Today, it’s so soft, I’m worried the camera won’t catch it.
“Okay, let’s start with the breakup scene. Wil, do you have the sides?” asks Nancy. She reaches around to open up a binder and picks through until she finds a couple of stapled pages.
“I’m off-book,” says Wil.
Nancy’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. “Okay,” she says like she’s game. “Dax.” She turns to me. “Come here and stand off-camera. We’ll do a tight in on Wil.”
“Wil, when you’re ready,” says Greg.
I meet Wil’s gaze, and as she looks back at me, something in her eyes catches fire.
LILA
(emotional, hurt)
Don’t look at me like that.
A three-freaking-second-long line and I already have full-body chills. The room is ghostly quiet around us. My heart slams into my ribs. Wil’s eyes bore into mine, and as I look back, the room empties and it’s only us two, Nick and Lila, circling goodbye.
NICK
Like what, Li? Like I’m mad at you? I am. Can’t change that.
LILA
I know I can’t. I’m not trying to. I’m just—
My line cuts her off, with my voice rising in volume.
NICK
Just getting out while you still can. Hell, I don’t blame you for that. Go on. Nothing left for you here.
LILA
Would you just listen to me?
Wil’s voice pours over the words like cream into coffee, settling comfortably around Lila’s southern accent. And the crescendo of her question, the way her voice peaks, the step she takes towards me, lost completely in the scene, is what tells me that this is our perfect fit right here.
This is our Lila. My Lila.
NICK
What?
LILA
There is nowhere on this earth I could go that would make me stop loving you.
Wil has actual tears in her eyes. They slip over the edge of her lashes.
LILA
You think I care that you’re mad? At least that’s something.
NICK
What’s that supposed to mean?
LILA
You gave up on us, Nick. You quit on me. Why?
NICK
’Cause you’re leaving! You’re leaving me. What else am I supposed to do?
I can’t tell what pulls tighter at my heart—saying those words to her or wondering while I say them if Wil’s feeling like she’s looking through time. Seventeen was so long ago, but the wounds it cut are raw as they ever were.
LILA
Tell me you love me. Say it to me. Right now.
NICK
Don’t.
LILA
Nick. Please. Please.
“That’s a cut,” says Greg, beaming. And piece by piece, the room comes to life again. Everyone was under the spell. “Let’s do...” He turns to Nancy, poking his script, and she gives us the next scene.
And the next. Then three more.
Wil is there for two hours on-camera with me, up for anything—improvising teenage flirtations, a monologue about losing a first love, even a slow dance. What has the room in tears is the final goodbye scene. The tragic end of an unlikely love that wound up being as big and bright as the moon. There’s applause when we’re through.
Greg gives me a look and I know Wil’s got the part.
“I’ll walk you out,” I say to her. Wil has the script clutched to her chest and I follow behind her as she navigates the tiny studio, headed for the door.
Outside, she turns under the dappled shade of a tree coming up through the concrete and shakes her head at me, grinning. “What the fuck?”
“ What the fuck .” I echo her words but slower, almost reverently.
“Oh my god...” Wil sighs. She puts a hand to her forehead. “I’m shaking . I’m sweaty. I’m... Dax, thank you.”
Worst mistake you can make is looking into Wilhelmina Chase’s eyes when they’ve just found the afternoon sun. Because the color you’ll find there hasn’t been invented or dreamed up yet—it’s that good.
“I didn’t do anything. That was all you.”
Wil laughs. She’s giddy and silly and happy . “I hope I get it.”
“If you don’t, I’ll eat that script.”
Again, she laughs. “You’re so incredibly weird.”
“I know.”
For a second, we just stand there, looking at each other. Wil’s lips part like she might say something, then she looks away from me, off across the street. “I’m gonna get going.”
“Right,” I say. “Yeah. Sure.”
We share a smile and she ducks away, heading up the pavement towards her car.
“Hey,” I call after her.
Wil stops and turns. “Huh?”
“I really hope you get it.”
“Me too.”
And I don’t say it because it’s the nice thing to say, I say it because it’s true and because, if she does, there’s nothing on earth that can stop us from getting anything we want in this industry. This is what we’ve both been waiting for.