Cheryl Baudin, the newest Broadway darling. She’d been in a few shows over the last couple of years, but her real claim to fame was that her daddy, Charles Baudin, was a major Broadway producer. I’d seen her performance as Carlotta inPhantom of the Operatwo years ago. Her voice was amazing. Her personality, it seemed, left a lot to be desired.
The younger woman cursed under her breath, apparently unhappy knowing who her competition was. The man came over to stand next to us. “Don’t worry, honey,” he said, his deep voice booming through the room. “Just be more pleasant than this bitch and you’re a shoe in.”
I bit my lip, trying to stifle my laugh as Cheryl silently fumed in the corner.
I liked this guy.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Scarlette,” she muttered, still staring at the floor.
“Nice to meet you, Scarlette. I’m Eve.” I reached out to shake her hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll do great.”
“I’m Warren,” the man said, extending his hand to both of us.
The short-haired woman peeked her head in the door once more, glancing down at the call sheet. “Cheryl Baudin.” She ducked out of the room as Cheryl pushed off the wall, unscrewing the lid from her water bottle.
She glided toward the door, stumbling as she approached us, her bottle of water spilling all over Warren. His pants were soaked in front, making it look like he had an incontinence issue.
“Oopsie,” Cheryl said, a devilish gleam in her eye as she stalked out the door, closing it with a click behind her.
“Wow,” I said, breaking the shocked silence.
Scarlette shot up from her chair and grabbed the box of tissues off the table, shoving them at Warren so he could attempt to dry off.
Warren shook his head, dabbing at the wet spot with the tissues to no avail. “That conniving little witch is going to get what’s coming to her one of these days.”
The kind look he’d given Scarlette was wiped clean off his features, and now he looked ready to hit something.
“I can’t believe she did that,” I said.
“Then you’ve never met Cheryl. She’s...”
“Awful?” Scarlette supplied.
“She’s that, alright,” I said.
The door opened and two more actors came in. One who was graying at the temples looked Warren up and down as he grabbed a water bottle, and the other slumped into a chair across the room from the three of us.
I needed to get my head back in the game, so I settled into my seat, sipping at my water as I studied the sides again.
Warren paced the room, periodically dabbing at his crotch with a tissue and muttering under his breath. He seemed a lot less relaxed than he’d been before his run-in with Cheryl, and I hoped it wouldn’t throw off his audition. I didn’t want Cheryl to succeed in flustering him.
They called Warren back, and a few minutes later, it was my turn. “Eve Reyes.”
Scarlette squeezed my hand quickly as I stood.
“Good luck,” she whispered.
I rolled my shoulders back and straightened my spine, attempting not to cringe at her words. Theater actors were a superstitious bunch, and I was no exception.
She was obviously new to the theater world. Everyone knew wishing someone good luck gave mischievous spirits an opportunity to wreak havoc.
“Thanks,” I muttered, rearranging my dress and trying not to linger on the accidental ill omen.
The short-haired woman led me down the hallway and into another room, smaller and somehow even stuffier than the first.
I took a deep breath and exhaledthe lingering nerves as I stepped through the doorway, ready to nail this audition.
