Idea in Stone (15 page)

Helen looked at him, surprised. She caught his glance and gave him a “Good idea” nod. She was letting him direct the day’s proceedings, quietly watching to see how he handled himself. But she provided the nods, like a mother horse nosing her foal onto its feet.

Maria took the pages to the centre of the room, read them for a few minutes, then indicated that she was ready. Before she read, she dropped her head and folded her hands. Her lips moved slightly.

“Is she—?”

“Yes,” said Helen, “I think she’s praying.”

“Oh God.”

“Exactly.”

Maria lifted her head, shook out her hair, then delivered the lines. Her demeanour changed as she spoke, transforming her into the subtle temptress in the story. She started walking as she spoke, one leg curving seductively around the other, her one hand holding the script, and the other making gentle, undulating movements. She owned each sentence she spoke, delivering the lines with nuance, each mounting the other until she gave the final words in an orgasmic crescendo.

Finished, she lowered the script to her side and changed back into the catalogue-woman.

“Holy crap!” Stefan burst out. Helen gave him a stern look, but he continued on. “You are
so
hired. If you want the part, it’s yours.”

“Really?” she squealed with an innocence that belied the complexity of who she’d been just a moment before. “Oh my goodness!”

“Are you available in August?” asked Helen.

“Well, I was supposed to be a counsellor at a youth camp, but I’m sure my minister would understand. He knows how much I’ve been trying to get my acting career going. And my parents—well, they’ll just have to live with it. Yes, I’d love to do it!”

“Great!” said Stefan, not sure what to do next. “Well, we’ve got your details on your résumé. This is your correct phone number, right?” She nodded. “Okay, well we’ll be in touch to send you the contract and arrange rehearsals and all that stuff. Congratulations!”

“Thank you so much!” she said, shaking their hands again. “Hee!” she yelped as she ran from the room.

Stefan looked at Helen. “I know what you’re going to say, but save it. I want her.”

“You just hired Gospel Girl to play the whore. You don’t see any conflicts?”

“She can act.”

“Yes, well she’ll have to,” quipped Helen, “because I don’t think she has much to draw on there.”

Stefan stuffed his fingers into his ears. “La la la,” he sang, as the next actor walked into the room.

“Hi, I’m Thom,” said the young man. He had a full head of sandy brown curls and a sharply-trimmed goatee. Stefan recognised the trousers he had on: Stefan owned the same kind, hemp, with buttons of recycled plastic. His shirt was made of a loose weave, with a Nehru collar, open at the neck, where the actor’s chest hair showed through.

“So what have you prepared for us today?” asked Stefan.

“What have I prepared?” he replied, sounding offended. “What have I prepared, you ask me. How dare you? How dare you ask what I’ve prepared! What have
you
prepared? Are you prepared for this day? Are you prepared for any day? You may think you’re some kind of god, but you’re just a man, a man playing God.” For several more minutes, the actor ranted, growing angrier and angrier, until he spat accusations and threats at Stefan. Finally he jumped up on the table and grabbed Stefan by his turtleneck. “And I ask you,” he screamed in Stefan’s face, the spittle making him blink, “are
you
prepared?”

He let go of Stefan, who dropped back into his chair. He sat down and cleared his throat. “That was ‘Jake’ from
The Nightmare’s Actor
.”

Stefan cocked his head. “Oh. That was your piece? Oh!” He laughed uncomfortably, still shaken. “Oh. Ha!” He turned to Helen. “That was him acting. Haha.”

“I’ve got another piece,” said Thom.

“I don’t think I’m insured for this,” said Stefan.

“No, you’ll like it. Wait.” He moved his chair further back, and cleared his throat. He closed his eyes and made a low, humming noise. He breathed in a strange, audible way, then opened his eyes and made a loud “Ha!” noise. “Okay,” he said to Helen and Stefan, “here it is.”

He spoke to an imaginary person, who, as he continued, turned out to be his grandmother. He held her hand, and told her things quietly that made Stefan laugh, and by the end of the piece, made his throat tighten with emotion. When he finished, Thom dropped his head, then looked up at them.

“That was nice,” said Stefan. “I really liked it.” Thom thanked them, and left the room.

“I hate to say it, Helen, but I think he’d be great as Seth. He’s a complete and utter freak, mind you.”

Helen turned to look at him. “Well, you’re not casting for friends, you’re casting for the characters in the show. And I have to agree. He’s going to give you everything he’s got. God knows what that is, but you’re going to get all of it.”

“Yeah.”

“Put him on this pile, then,” said Helen, indicating the smaller of the two stacks of photos and résumés in front of her.

Stefan uncomfortably slid his papers into the ‘Winners’ pile, uncomfortable about the implications of the other pile. “So are we calling the people we’re not hiring?”

“We don’t have to, but I think it’s a good practice, so they’re not left hanging.”

“So you don’t mind?”

“Me? Oh, right, your telephone thing. Yeah, I can make the calls when we’re finished auditioning.”

Stefan looked at his clipboard. “We’ve only got two more people scheduled. What happens if they don’t—?”

“It’s not over yet,” said Helen, sorting through the résumés. “Here, this is a submission we got from an agent. She’s up next.” Stefan took the résumé, but didn’t get further than the photograph.

“Holy! She’s beautiful.” He flipped the photo over to look at the credits listed there in professional-looking type. “She’s done a lot, too. Let’s call her in here.” He headed for the door.

“Wait a sec’, Stefan. Just so you don’t—hypothetically speaking, of course—get into an awkward social situation: people don’t usually look like their headshots. Some of them are very flattering. So no goofy double-takes if you’re expecting Venus de Milo and Ernest Borgnine walks into the room.”

“Right. Got it.” He opened the door. “Serena Knight?” he asked, poking his head around. Helen saw Stefan go goggle-eyed and sighed.
She must be pretty bad
, she thought.

Stefan walked back in, his eyes still wide, with Serena behind him. “Holy crap,” whispered Helen unconsciously.

The woman ran a hand through her long black hair, which reflected the light like a moonlit lake. Her face was a perfect, chiselled shape, the only colour added by some light powder. A shiny blue dress clung to her curved body. “Hi,” she said, utterly self-possessed, as if she weren’t auditioning but accepting an award. She gave Helen a sideways look that was all too familiar: pity, as if she were something lesser, an unfortunate accident, then gave a laughing smile clearly intended to charm, but it was too late.

Stefan, missing this, asked her to sit down. Helen could see that he was taken with her. She thought perhaps his natural inclinations might have inured him to her effect, but no. He was a child of the media, and bought it all.
 

“Sorry I’m so dressed up,” she said. “My boyfriend is coming by to take me out for dinner afterward.”

“No problem,” said Stefan. “You look nice. Ha, ‘nice’. Not exactly the word. Um, hey, this is a great résumé. I know these shows—
West
City Beat
,
Glamour Squad
.”

“Those weren’t big parts. Well, I was a recurring on
Glamour Squad
. There was talk of my character joining the team. But then I died.”

“I’m so sorry. How did it happen?”

“They dropped a police car on me.”

“Hmm. Pretty hard to recover from that. Oh, wow, it says here that you sing, too.”

“Yeah, I did some backup vocals in studio for Stacey Hillman, The Hinges, Delonia Mackech—”

“Hee,” laughed Helen. Stefan glared at her.

“What?” asked Serena.

“Nothing,” insisted Stefan. “So. What will you be doing for us today?”

It surprised neither of them that she acted well. Her piece was calm and thoughtful, with several subtle shifts in it. They appreciated being spared a big emotional outburst, intentional or otherwise. Even Helen couldn’t deny that the woman had everything. When Stefan looked to her at the end of her piece, she nodded.

“Here are the dates,” he said. “We’re paying scale and arranging accommodations. No
per diem
. Is this all okay?”

“Sure,” she said, “I think this will be a good opportunity. So does that mean—?”

Helen gave another nod. “Yeah, I’d like to offer you the lead female role, ‘Truna’.”

“That’s great!” she said—happy, but not surprised. She stood. “So you can send the details to my agent. If he gives you any hassle, you just tell him I said I wanted this part.”

“Great!” said Stefan. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you,” she said, standing. The door opened behind her. A tall man with huge arms and a broad, defined chest walked in. His long black hair was full of ringlets. “Sorry,” Serena said to Helen and Stefan, “this is my boyfriend, Leonidas.”

“How did it go?” he asked, touching her arm gently. They were both so attractive and enthralled with each other that their intimacy filled the room. Stefan and Helen felt like voyeurs.

Serena faced away from them, but they could see her make little triumph fists at her side and hear her squeal. Leonidas smiled and took her under one of his arms, which flexed of its own accord. He waved to Helen and Stefan and led her from the room. “That’s great,” they heard him say, “let’s go have dinner, and then we can—” The door closed, sparing Stefan and Helen the rest.

“Why is she free?” asked Helen, partly to herself.

“Because there are more actors than there is work,” said Stefan.

“For someone like her?”

“Hm.”

The door opened. “Hello?” asked a man about Stefan’s age. He bounded in. “Am I next?”

“Uh,” said Stefan, reaching for his clipboard.

“Chris Cook. I
am
next. It says so on the list outside. My asking was a formality.” He rushed up to the table and placed two cupcakes on it. He took two candles from his knapsack, stuck them into the cupcakes and lit them. As if letting them in on a secret, he whispered, “It’s a party.”

They looked appropriately confused.

“C’mon. Auditions are like funerals, but without the fun. Which would make them ‘erals’, wouldn’t it?” He laughed at this. “Go on! Blow them out!” he said, pointing at their cupcakes. Stefan hesitantly put Helen’s within her reach, then they blew out the candles.

“Wasn’t that fun? I think every occasion should be a party.” He stood and flounced to the middle of the room and rubbed his hands through his strawberry-blonde hair. “Well,” he said, “aren’t you going to say ‘So what have you prepared for us today’ or something?”

“Yeah,” said Stefan, uncomfortable with having this person running his audition, “I guess that’s what’s next.”

“Well!” he said exaggeratedly. “I’m going to do Lenny’s monologue from
Downstairs from Father
.”

Oh God
, thought Stefan.

“Just give me a second,” said Chris the actor. He turned his back to them and shook his shoulders. He cleared his throat, then turned around slowly and seriously. He pointed a finger at an imaginary figure seated next to him. “You! You think I don’t know the truth about Mom?” he started. Stefan wasn’t sure if he was more impressed that Chris was the first person to get through the piece, or that he managed to do it as someone of gravity, someone other than the person who first skipped into the room. He worked through the piece’s emotional twists, even finding a few moments of humour.

Chris finished the piece, kneeling in front of the figure, crying. He paused a moment, then stood, wiping tears from his face. The character’s tears.
He
was fine.

“That was very good,” said Helen.

“Yeah,” added Stefan, “you were so—”
Crap,
he thought. He’d dug a hole.

“‘Manly’? Is that the word?” asked Chris without malice, sitting on the arm of the chair in front of them. “It’s called acting, hun. People act gay all the time and get awards for their bravery. Why shouldn’t I be able to act straight?”

Stefan shook his head.

“How do you feel about doing a reading?” asked Helen. She pushed a script forward. “Take a look at page twenty-four. I want you to read Heck’s monologue.”

Stefan shot her a look.
That’s the male lead.
He’d pictured his father, but younger, in the role.

Chris took a few moments to go over the lines, then gave—as Stefan feared—a nuanced, convincing reading. Helen confirmed his availability, which also worked out. She thanked him for coming in, and he curtsied. He gave Stefan’s hand a hard shake, and punched him on the shoulder. “Take it easy, cowboy,” he said in a John Wayne voice, then picked up his bag and swaggered out of the room.