CHAPTER 7 #2
“But you want to be a professional actor.”
“Yes,” Dana said. “But not all of us have a parent take us to auditions when we’re, like, seven years old, so we grow up in the industry and get parts thrown at us.”
Samara leaned back and replied, “Okay. Ouch.”
Dana sighed and said, “Sorry. That was harsh.”
“A little bit, yeah,” Samara agreed. “And I was scouted, if you must know; no parent took me to an audition. We were at the grocery store. I was six years old. Some guy walked up to my mom and asked her if she’d ever consider putting me in commercials.
He was an agent. She signed with him, and I started auditioning.
I got a couple of local commercials, nothing major, until I got the TV show when I was seven, and it started airing by the time I turned eight.
So, maybe I’ve gotten more job offers because I grew up in the business, but my mom wasn’t some awful stage mom who stole my money and sold me off to the highest bidder so that she could get rich and famous. ”
“Samara, I’m sorry,” Dana said. “I didn’t mean it like that, okay?”
“It’s fine,” she replied.
“I think I read somewhere that your mom…”
“Was killed two years ago by a drunk driver, yeah,” she said. “It was splashed all over the tabloids.”
“You and your sister were in the car, too, right?” Dana asked.
“Is this you trying to get your chance at an interview so you can sell it to–”
“What? No,” Dana replied. “God, no. I’m sorry. I was just trying to make conversation.”
Samara cleared her throat and said, “My mom wasn’t a stage mom. That’s all you need to know.”
“Yeah, okay,” Dana said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Samara cleared her throat again and took a bite of the eggplant, which had grown a little too cold for her liking, but that wasn’t Dana’s fault, so she took another bite. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I thought you did well this morning. That’s all.”
“Thank you,” Dana replied, sounding surprised. “And thanks for recommending me, I guess.”
“I want what’s best for the film. That’s all.”
“Yeah, about that. Why, exactly, are you doing this film?” Dana asked, sliding the bottle of sparkling water toward herself. “It’s not your usual thing, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” she said, watching Dana take a drink but trying to avoid the green eyes that had bored into her own blue ones just a few hours ago at the audition, catching her completely off guard. “And I wanted to do an indie movie. I was growing a little tired of the blockbusters.”
Dana laughed and said, “Said only an actress who has starred in ten of them.”
Samara gave her a hesitant smile and said, “I suppose so.”
“Why’d you choose this one, though? I’m sure you have a ton of indies being thrown your way; gritty indie dramas or something.”
Samara leaned back, letting her fork hover over her eggplant, and said, “Honestly, I’m hoping this gets me a chance at some awards.”
“A lesbian rom-com on a streaming network?”
Samara wasn’t ready to tell a new person that she wanted to use this movie as a possible platform for coming out, so she nodded, continuing her half-truth.
“Your people told you this was something that would win you awards?”
“I saw it in the script,” she replied. “Those moments of intensity when Bray and Stella meet and can’t stop staring at each other, can’t stop talking about how beautiful the other one is, can’t stop touching each other until it builds and builds into an earth-shattering kiss, and then, they literally get pulled apart.
” Samara did meet Dana’s eyes then. “The awards are in those moments: the emotion an actor can put into a role where they’re playing someone who just met the love of their life, and they know it somehow, even though they shouldn’t, and then they spend the next forty-five minutes being miserable and trying to find their way back to each other.
Yes, if it’s done right, I think it has a chance of getting me at least nominations at some of the awards.
SAGs, Critics’ Choice, Globes, and if I’m really, really lucky, The Oscars, but that one is a big stretch.
I’ll need to have a really talented Bray to help me get there. ”
“So, you’re playing gay?” Dana said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Well, yes, the character is gay.”
“No, I mean, you’re playing gay just to win an award?”
“Not exactly what I meant.”
“I think I should go,” Dana said.
“What? Why?”
“I’m not into that.”
“Into what?”
Dana stood and replied, “Straight actors playing gay just because they think it will get them something. If you believe in the film, and you’re the best for the role – yeah, I have no problem with that. But just doing it so you can get noticed or win some kind of trophy…”
“That’s not what–”
“I’m bi, Samara. I’m bisexual,” Dana interrupted her.
“I cannot begin to tell you how important movies like this are to me and people like me. We didn’t get to see a whole lot of relatable happy endings growing up.
On TV, there might have been one gay character, and they usually got killed off almost for sport.
Movies were usually tragic, too. We’re just getting to this point where there are movies with gay characters living their happily ever after, and they are so important. ”
“I know that,” Samara replied. “I’m here to do the best job I can, Dana. I’m not phoning it in or anything.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Dana said, not looking at her anymore. “I’ve got to get back to work, so I guess I’ll see you later for your dinner delivery.”
“Dana, wait,” she said as Dana pushed the door open.
“Yeah?”
“Your audition.”
“What about it?”
“We have our chemistry read,” Samara reminded.
“Oh, right. I’ll see you then,” Dana said before she went down the few stairs and closed the door behind her.