Chapter Twelve
I MUST BE in the wrong place.
Two sets of critical eyes swung toward Roxy as she opened the entrance door, giving her the obligatory scrutiny every actress gives her competition.
Oddly, it unnerved Roxy more than usual.
Most auditions she walked into, she was greeted by forty, sometimes fifty, sets of eyes.
Never, ever a measly two. The lack of competition somehow made the upcoming read that more worrisome.
When you had no chance in hell, you lacked for pressure.
With only two girls to beat out, the pressure increased like a vise around her neck.
Especially when both of the girls looked like they’d stepped off the pages of Entertainment Weekly.
Hadn’t the blonde been in that sitcom with Neil Patrick Harris? How I Met Your Brother or something?
She resisted the compulsion to smooth her hair and instead made her way to a chair in the waiting area, where she sat and immediately withdrew the script from her purse. To her left, the office door she’d be walking through in mere minutes sat closed, not a sound coming from the other side.
She’d been emailed the “sides” yesterday afternoon and had spent most of the night rehearsing the script excerpt in front of the bathroom mirror.
Johan Strassberg’s newest film centered on a young woman who’d been forced to leave college in New York to care for her ailing mother in the Midwest. While she’d only been given a small section of the script, she was already intrigued with the character of Missy Devlin.
There was such resentment, vulnerability, and yearning in the small section of text alone that she was eager to see the rest. Eager to immerse herself in the role if she just got the chance. Please let them give me the chance.
A fresh-faced redhead in a headset exited the inner office, holding a clipboard.
Roxy sucked in a breath, praying they would call someone else first. She needed a minute to gather her thoughts, especially after the pulse-scrambling scene with Louis earlier.
Thankfully, headset girl called a different name, and the blonde stood to follow her into the office.
Roxy sucked in a deep breath. Okay. Okay, you can do this.
You are Missy. You’ve just been yanked out of your dream school, away from your boyfriend and best friends, to care for your mother.
You should be eager to get to her side. Should be eager to be with your mother in her final moments.
But you’re not. Not at all. You’ve never understood each other.
She pawned you off onto strangers in your youth so she could shack up with the latest flavor of the week .
.. and you’re angry. You’re so fucking angry that caring for her is hard.
Even if you know it’s your duty, you can’t let go of the shitty past. You’re guilty. You’re helpless. You’re mad.
A voice intruded on Roxy’s consciousness, snapping her head up and shooting her back into reality. The redhead stood at the office door, radiating impatience. “Yeah. Roxy Cumberland? We’re ready now.”
“Great.” Roxy uttered the word tightly, the way Missy would.
In this moment, she could feel the necessary emotions bubbling around inside her.
If she could just walk into that office and let these emotions loose, they would see her.
See Missy inside her, dying to get out. Roxy shoved her script back inside the purse.
She didn’t need it anymore. This is just like any other audition.
You’ve walked into hundreds of rooms just like this.
Take the fear and make it Missy’s, not your own.
For the next five minutes, live inside the part.
She passed through the door at an efficient pace and found herself staring at a familiar sight.
Three bored expressions with notes on the table in front of them.
A handheld camera held aloft by a tripod, pointed in her direction.
The only un familiar sight was seeing famous filmmaker Johan Strassberg sprawled out on a bean bag chair in the corner of the room.
He held a laser pointer in his hand, flashing it in quick succession at the redheaded production assistant’s head, laughing as he did so.
His feet were bare. Giant, noise-canceling headphones hugged his neck.
He wasn’t so much handsome as he was adorable.
That wide, boyish grin and those sparkling eyes had won him a lot of hearts among the public.
If this wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured the brilliant filmmaker’s behavior, maybe it was just part of his process. He could afford to be a little offbeat.
“Which one is this?” Johan singsonged without even looking at her.
A bearded man in a Book of Mormon baseball cap consulted his notebook. “This is ... Roxy Cumberland.”
“Never heard of her,” the frazzled blonde to his right mumbled into her Diet Coke.
Johan straightened from his casual position, eyeing her curiously. “Ah, Roxy Cumberland. I’ve heard so many good things.” He pointed his laser onto the ground and raised a dark eyebrow. “Are you here to dazzle us?”
“That’s the plan.”
Bearded Dude snorted.
Good. This is exactly what she needed. She needed them to underestimate her. It would leave her with nothing left to lose, just like the character she needed to portray. They were prepared to be underwhelmed? Well, it was time to wake these motherfuckers up.
The blonde picked up a sheet of paper. “I’ll be reading with you today,” she droned. “Say your name into the camera and start when you’re ready.”
Roxy breathed deeply, taking a moment to put herself in Missy’s shoes, to block out everything except her mother, sitting across from her at the kitchen table. Five ... four ... three ... two...
“Pancakes, Mother?”
“Not hungry,” returned the blonde quickly.
Roxy gave a tight nod to portray Missy’s frustration. “Anything you want to do today?”
“Not particularly. I don’t see the point.”
Roxy gave a bitter laugh. “You know what? Me either.” Two steps toward the table.
“Why exactly did you bring me home, Mother? Did you think it would be easier to sort through the wreckage if I was manageable? If I was sad to see you like this? Huh? What the hell was it?” In her mind, Roxy replaced the blonde with an older woman.
A frail, but stubborn, woman. “You want me to feel guilty, is that it? Should I wear a crown of goddamn thorns on my head and hang myself on a cross to absolve you of the past? It doesn’t work like that.
I don’t know how to feel anything for you.
” Roxy picked up an imaginary pill bottle and shook it.
She reached deep down inside herself, found a well full of helplessness, and plunged inside.
“This doesn’t change anything. Nothing. Ever. Changes. Here .”
It took her a moment to realize the scene had finished.
With her pulse racing, she risked a look at the table full of executives.
The boredom had fled and had been replaced with interest. Even the blonde who’d read the part of Missy’s mother looked a little stunned.
Good Lord, she hoped that didn’t mean she’d been horrible enough to render them speechless.
Please let it be the opposite. She swallowed the knot of unease in her throat and glanced at Johan.
At some point during her performance, he’d risen to his feet to stand behind the camera, perhaps to see her live and on screen at the same time.
“Cumberland, do you mind stepping out into the hallway?” Johan asked. “We’ll call you back in a minute.”
“Sure.” All right, that was unusual. Then again, getting hired was unusual for her, so this unorthodox procedure could be positive.
She hoped. Propelling herself into motion, she stooped down and grabbed her purse before exiting the room.
She closed the door behind her and sat in one of the hard plastic waiting room chairs, wishing she could hear the discussion taking place on the other side of the door.
The remaining girl who’d obviously come to audition eyed her suspiciously.
Another good sign? Or were they already on the phone to the Screen Actors Guild to bar her entry for life?
Five minutes passed before the door opened. All three executives filed out, Bearded Dude even sending her a smile as they left the hallway through the front entrance. Where were they going?
Johan appeared in the doorway, minus his gigantic headphones. He jerked his head toward the now-empty room behind him. “Follow me, Roxy.”
She wanted to ask what was going on, but her throat felt so tight that she worried it might come out sounding like Swahili.
Johan led her into the performance area again, although she noted the camera had been switched off.
He wheeled out a chair from behind the table and sat, but he didn’t offer her a seat, leaving her standing a few feet away.
For long, torturous moments, he didn’t say anything, simply tilting his head to scrutinize her with a halfsmile.
A sliver of discomfort worked its way into her stomach at the feeling of being on display, but she refused to break eye contact first. She’d been poked and prodded before.
This was no different. If it felt like more than the usual sizing up, maybe she was imagining it.
“You’re not what I expected,” Johan said finally. “Not at all.”
She commanded herself to stop shifting in her high heels. “Likewise.”
A laugh burst out of him. “Yes. Definitely unexpected.”
A frown marred her forehead. Her performance hadn’t been out of the ordinary for her. Why did he seem so surprised? “Do you mind me asking which casting director recommended me? Your assistant never mentioned a name when she called.”
He shrugged a vintage-T-shirt-clad shoulder. “Who gives a shit? You’ve got the part.”
White lights blinked behind her eyes. “I—what?”
“You blew us away. Or did you think those three uptight assholes go silent for just anyone?”
Roxy’s answering laugh sounded a little hysterical.
This was really happening. She hadn’t misunderstood him.
The part of Missy Devlin was hers. She’d be starring in a major production.
If she had been having this conversation with anyone else, she would have asked for further proof, someone in a loftier position to speak with.
But Johan had written the film and would also be directing.
He was the highest on the proverbial food chain. It didn’t get any higher.
“Thank you,” she managed. “You made the right choice.”
Johan looked amused. “I’m going to love working with you.” He came to his feet and walked toward her. “And we’ll be doing a lot of it. Working together,” he said meaningfully.
The unease crept back in. Roxy didn’t want to feel it, didn’t want some annoying sixth sense to mar this perfect realization of her dream. It stayed anyway, telling her to keep her eyes wide open. “I would hope so,” she joked. “You’re directing the movie.”
“True.” He watched her closely. “Our male lead, Marcus Vaughn, will be in Los Angeles for another week. We’ve been through the script with him several times. When he gets back to town, I’d like you up to speed so we can hit the ground running.”
Roxy nodded eagerly “Absolutely. I can take the script home with me today, and—”
“No, no.” His smile held just a hint of condescension. She couldn’t help but think this might be Johan. Not the friendly, irreverent guy he tried to portray. “You and I are going to need to rehearse a few times. I need you completely ready.”
That niggle of unease turned into loud, beeping alarm.
She wasn’t na?ve. Not by a long shot. After two years of waiting in line for auditions and listening to girls swap casting couch stories, she knew the score.
While he hadn’t come right out and said he wanted something else in exchange for the part, it was there in the fine print.
The dream she thought he’d handed her upon walking into the room crumbled just a little, but not all the way.
Not yet. If Johan thought she would sleep with him for the part, he had another thing coming.
And it wouldn’t be him. She just had to stay on her toes and play this right.
“Great. I’m all about rehearsing. The last thing I want is to be behind.” She pulled her purse higher on her shoulder, wincing inwardly when she realized she was using it as a type of shield. “Is there paperwork we need to sign?”
Johan’s eyebrows dipped. “It’s a little early for that.
We need to make sure you and Marcus have the right chemistry on screen together.
I’m confident you will,” he rushed to say.
“But we need to make sure you know Missy inside and out before we shoot the screen tests.” His hand found its way to her shoulder and lingered.
“Why don’t we start tomorrow night? Let’s meet here around six. ”
“Six.” Roxy moved away subtly until he was forced to remove his hand. “I’ll be here.”
“Great.” His genuine-looking smile was back in place. “Looking forward to it.”
She left the office, noticing on the way out that the other girl had apparently given up and left.
When she reached the sidewalk, she stopped, feeling at a loss.
Conflicted. In a matter of five minutes, she’d gone from a crazy high to a pitiful low.
Now she hovered somewhere in the middle.
She would find a way to keep this part. She had to.
But she wouldn’t, under any circumstance, compromise herself for the chance at realizing her dreams. It would only taint them.
Which meant there was every possibility she could lose the part of a lifetime.
Walking toward the subway, she felt exposed.
Raw. The idea of going home and sitting in her bedroom, feeling this way until evening fell, seemed like a shitty idea.
She’d dwell on the upcoming rehearsal and drive herself insane.
She’d binge on the leftovers Honey kept neatly stocked in Tupperware inside the fridge.
Hide the remote on herself so she’d have an excuse to watch Lifetime.
No, she needed to feel better. Now. When she thought of what had made her feel happy lately, what made her feel warm and safe .
.. she thought of Louis. It didn’t sit well, this idea that she needed Louis, a guy, to erase the ickiness Johan had slimed all over her, but the fact remained.
Talking to Louis, seeing his face, made her . .. happy.
Instead of taking the uptown 2 train back to Chelsea, she changed direction and headed for the downtown 5. Toward the courthouse.