20. Micah
20
MICAH
I wake up with John at my back, and though my arm is numb from being wedged beneath my torso, it feels amazing having him here. In my bed. In my city.
His soft breaths fanning across my neck make me feel warm and shivery all at once, and I never want us to leave this room. In my dream life, I’d have a much larger bed, plus an apartment I actually own.
But today is a big day, a weighty one, and I need to get moving, so I gingerly untangle our limbs.
“Good morning,” he murmurs.
I kiss his cheek. “Gonna jump in the shower.”
He mumbles something unintelligible as I climb out of bed and leave the room.
When I return, showered and changed, he’s fallen back asleep, and I feel guilty waking him again. He might be peeved if I don’t, though, even if he’s changed his mind about coming to my audition.
My mouth finds his ear. “I gotta leave in thirty minutes. You can sleep in or tag along.”
He lifts his head as if determined to hold true to his idea. “Get some coffee in me, and I’ll take a quick shower.”
I pad to the kitchen to get the coffee started, only to realize Dennis already did on his way out the door to work. I pour us both a cup and leave his sitting on the dresser. When he enters the room and spots the mug, his eyes soften. It’s what I used to do for him every morning at his parents’ house because of his late nights working at the bar.
In the car, I’m grateful for John’s silence as I recite my lines in a low rumble, trying to get my nerves under control. His hand on my knee steadies me further. Despite doing this a hundred times, this particular audition seems to weigh more, as if people are counting on me and I don’t want to let them down.
It’s likely just me and my skewed views of success. A job is a job, and I’ve been grateful for all of them. There’s a very good chance I won’t even get the role.
But still, I keep the faith as we traverse traffic into downtown LA and have to park blocks away from the building. We walk up to the fourth floor and into the cramped room filled to the brim with other actors waiting to audition. I check in while John finds us an empty space along the wall. My leg jiggles nervously until John pulls me to a newly vacated seat. He urges me to sit, and I’m grateful, so I can focus my thoughts and my breathing. John chats with the person beside him about the LA traffic, and it reminds me how personable he is. No doubt he can always hold his own.
I recognize a few other actors in the room, having been in this same predicament too many times to count over the years. They seem just as anxious about this one and, like me, aren’t too keen on small talk. Most get called in before me and either smile or frown as they walk out, likely in judgment of their performance.
John studies each person leaving the director’s office as if attempting to determine how well they’ll measure up to me. We switch places, him sitting while I pace next to him. The room slowly clears, and nearly ninety minutes later, they call my name, and by then, I only want it over with. All I can muster is a sobering look in response to John’s encouraging smile. I head toward the woman holding a clipboard and feel John following behind me.
“What are you?—”
“I’m his husband,” he tells her. “Is it okay if I wait outside the room to offer him support?”
She smiles sweetly at him, no doubt charmed. I expect him to be told to wait outside, but she allows us both to pass.
Once I get to the casting director’s office, I turn to say something, but John shushes me. “Break a leg. I’ll be right here.”
I walk inside and greet the three very important people in the room, which only sets me on edge. After making small talk and being asked questions about my history in the biz, the room grows quiet. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I nod and straighten, my gaze flicking toward the door, which hasn’t shut completely. I want to mention it because the idea of anyone in the hall hearing me recite my lines is legit terrifying. But it would sound ridiculous.
And then I remember how supportive John has been and genuinely proud, and somehow that bolsters me. I realize how alone I’ve felt in this career, even if it couldn’t be helped. Having John waiting for me behind that door warms my stomach.
Taking a moment to get into character, I recite the lines. I notice them exchange glances but keep their expressions neutral, which is always the case. They never want to sway an actor in one direction or another.
When I’m finished, the casting director smiles. “Good job. You’ll hear from us soon.”
“Thanks for your time.” It’s my go-to exit line, and it feels hollow on my lips.
Upon leaving the room, I’m disappointed to see John having a conversation with a random stranger. “I’m done. We can leave,” I mutter, not wanting him to see my expression. As I move down the hallway, I hear him say his goodbyes to his new friend and then jog to catch up to me.
“Hey.” He reaches for my arm to stop me. “That was amazing.”
“You heard my audition?”
“I listened near the door. Hope that’s okay?”
I nod and blow out a breath. “I wasn’t sure if you… Uh, thanks.” My face feels hot. “Though I can never really tell how I did.”
I follow him through the waiting room, down the stairs, and to the car.
“Well, if it were up to me, I’d give you the part.”
“Appreciate the vote of confidence.” I aim the key fob at my car. “But it’s doubtful I got it. Did you see the room full of talent?”
“Is that how it always is?” he asks as we get into the car.
I hitch a shoulder. “It’s true that Hollywood can feel like a small world with the same people vying for parts. There’s definitely tons of pressure and frustration. I tend to think worst-case scenario so I’m not disappointed too often.”
He doesn’t respond, only stares at me.
“What?”
“Damn, Micah.” He squeezes my thigh, sending a thread of warmth to my stomach. “It must be nerve-racking as hell. I would probably crack under the pressure.”
“Nah, you’d probably thrive, given your resilience and charisma.” I smirk. “You even sweet-talked that woman into letting you stand in the hallway.”
He chuckles. “Maybe she saw how important it was to me.”
Our eyes meet and hold. “Thanks again for being so supportive.”
As I pull away from the curb, he says, “I feel like I understand your motivation a bit more. Not that I didn’t before. It’s just that I can see the drive to try and try again. No experience would feel the same.”
“Maybe. Some people admit they’re dependent on the industry, obsessed with the energy of it. And while I don’t think that’s me, I’ve had this determination to succeed. To be able to make a living, be independent, but I don’t know if the call is as strong for me anymore.”
“It’s probably hard to get back up after being knocked down so many times. But you’re one of the strongest people I know. You take chances and shoot for the stars.”
I shake my head. “Oh, I don’t know about that. You built a successful bar in Aqua Vista. Look at the life you made by sticking to your guns.”
“Is it a life, though?” he counters. “I love what I do and being close to my family. But maybe I’m only existing.”
“I don’t want that for you, John. Nothing would mean more than to see you be happy on all fronts.” Guilt settles in my gut again. “How about some lunch before we hit the road? I’ll grab that envelope from the back seat and bring it inside. Maybe it’s time.”
John only nods as I head toward the restaurant. My heart is throbbing, but I know it’s the right thing to do.