Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
“Not at all.” He extends his hand. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I wait for him to walk past me, to disappear through the crowd. Then I slip into the closest restroom and flush his stack of business cards down the toilet.
NEGLIGENCE (N.):
FAILURE TO EXERCISE THE CARE TOWARD OTHERS WHICH A REASONABLE OR PRUDENT PERSON WOULD DO IN THE CIRCUMSTANCES, OR TAKING ACTION WHICH SUCH A REASONABLE PERSON WOULD NOT.
SCARLETT
Three Weeks Later
My heart is attempting to escape from my chest.
With its fingers gripping the bars of my ribcage, it’s knocking against my chest with a heaviness I’ve never felt before.
If it could speak, I’m sure it would tell me that this is my punishment for putting it through a week’s worth of auditions and for not giving in once to call Jameson.
As much as I’ve yearned to hear his voice or feel his lips pressed against mine, I refuse to relent first.
Taking a deep breath, I press a hand against my chest and lean back in my seat at Second Stage Theater.
“Actor 3451!” The director walks onto the stage. “Please join me up here for your cold reading, please.”
No one makes a move.
Only the sounds of flipping sheets and nervous footsteps echo off the walls.
“Can you all in the back hear me?” He glances at his clipboard. “Is actor 3451 in the house this morning?”
Still no answer.
“Okay, then.” He pulls a pen from his pocket and draws a line. “We will move onto Actor 3452. Are you here?”
“Yes.” I quickly stand to my feet. “I’m here.”
“Well, join me up here, please.” He snaps his fingers, and I rush down the aisle and up the side steps.
“Scarlett Winters?” he whispers.
“Yes.”
“Great.” He tears off a sheet with a small script and tiny character notes and hands it to me. “You have ten seconds to begin. Don’t keep everyone waiting.”
He gestures to the auditorium, leaving me to face four hundred other hopefuls who want this part.
Jeneva is sitting in the front row, mouthing, “You got this.”
I take a deep breath and glance at the script.
The lines are sparse, calling for dramatic looks and pauses instead of delivery. The character notes don’t offer anything more.
Young twenty-something female
Ambitious dreamer
Feels trapped under father’s thumb
Looking up, I spot the long row of judges who look like they’ve used all their energy on the two hundred actors they’ve watched before me.
“Five seconds…” the stagehand whispers. “Four, three…”
“I can’t keep living my life under your rules, Dad,” I start reading before he can finish the countdown. “I’m twenty-one years old, and I don’t have the same goals and dreams as you do.”
Pause eight seconds for stagehand to read father’s line…
No, screw that.
“I’m saving you from your fucking dreams,” I say the line just like my father would. “I used to have those too, and look where it got me.”
“I’m not you, Dad.” My voice cracks. “I’m nothing like you.”
“That’s always been your biggest weakness.” I switch back to him. “Your mother can’t run this farm on her own, and your siblings are far too young to chip in right now. Our family legacy depends on you.”
“Then I guess it ends here, huh?” I glare at him in a way I could never do in real life. “I’ve wasted enough years believing in your odd jobs, your shady finances that never turn for the better, and your lies about how well we’re doing when the only person happy here is you.”
“I suggest you remember who’s paying for the roof over your head before you say another goddamn word to me.” I glower just like he does.
“Thank you for all the nights you let me stay under it, Dad,” I pause on her line. “You’ll never have to worry about me staying for another one. You’ll never have to fucking worry about seeing me ever again.”
I crumple the script between my fingers and look out at the crowd.
Usually, there’s a soft round of applause from the audience and a bunch of polite nods from the judges, but everyone is staring at me in utter silence.
“Um…” I feel my cheeks heating. “Scene.”
Still, nothing.
I look over my shoulder for the director, hoping he’ll say something, but he’s just staring too.
Maybe my words came out worse than I thought they did…
“Thank you all for your time.” I take a small bow and exit the stage amidst silence.
Grabbing my purse from my seat, I hold back tears and don’t bother sitting to watch any more actors. I can’t bear to see them get an actual reaction.
Walking right through the rear doors, I rush to the lobby, right into something warm.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jeneva wraps her arms around me.
“Home,” I say. “I don’t want to cry in public.”
“Huh?” She squeezes me hard before letting me go. “Cry about what?”
“I just bombed again,” I say. “I need to process it.”