Chapter 2 #2
And that’s his cue; he leans in. Filled suddenly with memories from before – unwanted ones, crowding my consciousness – I reflexively take a step back, then try to right myself.
But my heel gets caught on something. A wire or a piece of raised carpet.
I don’t have time to check and panic rushes through my limbs.
I lean towards him, tilting my face upwards. Trying to hold myself at a semi-natural-looking angle. But the carpet gets the best of me and I stumble.
Fuck.
Avi catches me before I can fall any further, holding me in mid-air while embarrassment moves through my every cell.
And I look up at him, our eyes meeting. Something flashing through his gaze as his hand clenches around my waist that makes my heart thud.
Some sense of who he was before – the person I’m in the room with now melting from a Hollywood star down to the person I knew. Or thought I did.
‘Cut!’ The casting director shouts and the breath rushes out of my lungs.
Avi sets me right and his hand drops from my waist, leaving a ghost of warmth, and a sense of crashing disappointment, as he steps away.
Oh, my God. Have I lost my mind?
The casting director is standing in the same spot on the other side of the room, arms still folded, expression as unreadable as before. I hardly dare to look at Avi, my heart is beating so hard.
‘Thank you very much for your time, Lara,’ the casting director says, finally, after a beat of silence. He returns to his previous position behind the desk and shuffles some papers, then sits down, looking up at me as he does so.
‘We’ll be in touch,’ he says, by way of dismissal.
I swallow and manage to speak, thanking them for having me and saying some other things I’m not fully aware of. My focus is suddenly on getting out of this room as fast as possible.
I glance at Avi, the nausea I felt at the beginning of this audition rising up suddenly – realising the implications of this, of what just happened.
I feel like I’m being pulled in two directions: half of me is desperate never to see him again, the other half already reliving how it felt to have his hand on my waist. Even now, after all this time, I still can’t keep it together around him.
And faced with the opportunity of a lifetime, I might’ve messed it all up. There’s no way that went well.
I manage a nod in his direction and burst from the room.
I’m barely into the corridor, my heart hammering.
Now that I no longer have to stay professional for the audition, it’s like a dam has broken.
Everything from before is coming back all at once: hurt; confusion; sadness; a headache that feels like it’s going to split my skull in two. What have I done?
Before I can make it to the lift, a voice calls out. ‘Lara!’
I whip round, my heart thudding.
The flannel shirt he usually wore might be gone, replaced instead by a sharp tailored suit, but everything else is still there: the slight hunch of his shoulders, the half-smile that used to show me he was nervous or having an off day.
He runs a hand through his hair.
‘It…’ He looks momentarily as unhinged as I feel. ‘It’s good to see you,’ he finally says, then swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
I falter for a second, confused. Because those are the last words I ever expected him to say.
‘You were great in there,’ he continues.
‘I don’t think I was,’ I say, wanting this conversation to end but feeling bound by politeness not to end it too quickly. ‘But… thanks?’
‘You were,’ he replies, and something knots in my chest. ‘I’ve…’ He clears his throat. ‘I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Hoping I’d see you.’
Okay, now I literally have no idea what he’s talking about. And something comes out – something angry. Frustrated. Because he has had every opportunity to try to see me in the last few years and he hasn’t done anything about it.
I frown. ‘Where?’ I ask, before I can stop myself.
‘What?’ he asks.
I let out a breath. ‘Where were you hoping you’d see me?’
‘I don’t know.’ He shrugs. ‘Around?’
‘Around,’ I say. ‘Right.’ Because I work in a paper company, in London. And you live in LA and spend most of your life on film sets.
‘Alright,’ he says. ‘Point taken. Maybe it’s not that likely we’d have run into each other. But… I’m glad to see you today. How have you been?’
I close my eyes, the feelings taking over. I was willing to do this dance for a few minutes, to be polite. But it hurts now. And, especially given how the audition went, I really just need to go home and sleep.
‘Fine,’ I say. ‘I’ve been fine. Look, I really have to—’
‘I’ve missed you,’ he says. And his voice sounds so sincere that it almost breaks me.
Then that pain twists into something else. Because there are a few gaps between where he is now and how we left things.
‘Look,’ I say, my voice shaking. Trying to keep my cool. ‘Avi. I really need to get home. And I really don’t want to talk about this right now. Besides, you haven’t spoken to me in three years. I got the message. Loud and clear.’
You might be famous now and everyone might fall over themselves to make your life easier. But for me, nothing has changed. You’re still the person who hurt me.
He lets out a long breath.
‘It’s not because I’m…’ He starts, then stops himself. ‘Look, I fucked up,’ he says, putting his hands in his pockets. ‘I know that. But it’s true, I have missed you. I-I’m just trying to be honest. I don’t know what else you want me to say.’
Indignation flames into anger. There are a million other things he could’ve said to repair things between us. But instead he chose to ignore me for three years. To treat our friendship like it never happened in the first place.
‘Sorry I haven’t spoken to you in three years?
Sorry our friendship meant so little to me that as soon as I settled into my new life in LA and got famous, I decided to cut you out of it?
Sorry I just stopped talking to you without warning?
Any of those would’ve worked just fine. The ball was in your court, Avi.
You’re the one who dropped it. And so you don’t get to come here and tell me you’ve missed me and expect that to fix everything. ’
‘I think there’s been a misunderstanding—’
‘You hurt me, Avi,’ I say.
‘Lara—’
‘And it could not be less ideal that I have to read opposite you for this part, and I’m sure you’d also rather be here with literally anyone else.
But,’ he looks over my shoulder at something and it seems like he’s about to interrupt me again, but I’m on such a roll I don’t care.
I need to get this out, ‘this is my chance now too. And I love Amelia more than anything. I’ve dreamed about playing her since I was a child.
Since I dreamed about acting at all. So I respect that you’re here under contractual obligations.
But this is it for me. There’s nothing else I want more than this.
Nothing else I’ve ever wanted more than this.
And all I’m asking is that you show me the same respect.
Give me some space to actually take this chance. I think I deserve that, don’t you?’
He nods slowly, looking more than a little uncomfortable as I finish my speech, my voice shaking. But I feel good about it – I’ve said my piece. And then I see his gaze drifting up, over my shoulder again.
I turn slowly, a spike of fear running down my spine, to see that one of the producers has followed us into the corridor. Fuck.
‘Um…’ they say, looking serious. ‘Sorry to interrupt. But you left your scarf in the room, Miss Francis.’
I walk over to them, a flush colouring my face, embarrassment rippling through every fibre of my being.
Oh, my God. I catch a glimpse through the open door of a row of faces that definitely just heard at least the tail end of me losing my cool at Avi.
It’s the most unprofessional thing I’ve ever done, letting my emotions overtake me like this in front of a potential employer.
Letting my personal life into the audition room – or outside of it, at least. Conversations like that aren’t meant to be held in corridors right next to audition rooms. They’re private, contained.
You’re supposed to be a blank slate at an audition.
Careful, controlled – except when you’re acting the part.
And you’re definitely not supposed to do anything that might make them think you’ll be difficult to work with on-set.
Like, for example, yell at a potential co-star.
Like, for example, lay all your cards on the table about how desperate you are for a role.
Fuck.