“Yes, Mother.”
Instead of chastising me, she put a hand on my shoulder. She sighed and stared at me, running her hand over my hair.
“Are you tired?” I asked her.
“Yes.” She took another heavy breath. “Very tired. And this party is for adults.”
“Yes, Mother.” Lowering my eyes, I pretended to be sorry and let her lead me back to the stairs.
I walked up three steps and turned around. “Why did that woman call our house a hotel peculiar?”
“What?” My mother pulled her attention back to me. She seemed distracted. “Oh, her. Don’t mind her. She’s deep in her cups.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means she’s had too much Champagne.”
I nodded. I’ve seen my mother drink too much Champagne before.
She waved her fingers at me, shooing me upstairs, but I didn’t go. Not yet. I had another question before being pushed up to my boring bedroom.
“Why does Father smile at her that way?”
My mother jerked her head back to me and frowned. “That’s enough now. Don’t concern yourself with adult matters, or with that woman. She’s not important.”
My mother gave me a light push on my back, and I could tell she was out of patience.
Frowning, I dragged my feet and took one step at a time. But halfway up the stairs, I heard my mother mumble, “She’s not important at all.”
8
The apartment isn’t as scary in the daytime.
I stand in thepetit salonon the second floor. Spring sun filters through the windows, falling on antique tables, gilded frames, and an elaborate crimson rug. The room has excellent morning light.
Which is why I’m here.
I need three things to film my audition. Enough wall space, a clean background, and natural light.
The windows face east, which means they also face the courtyard, but the higher floor provides privacy. No one walking by and peering in while I work.
As if to assure myself, I move to the windows and stare down at the cobblestones. No activity. No one in sight. The mansion may feel forsaken and covered with gargoyles, but at least it’s quiet.
I spent the morning reading the script for a second time, taking notes on the narrative and the character arc. To nail the audition, I need to understand Claudia—her past, her hopes, her fears.
Once I understand her, I ask the questions that will bring her to life. How will I approach her character? Will I be believable in the role? What scene should I choose?
I can’t afford to play it safe.
The choice I make needs to be strong. Bold. So even if I take things in the wrong direction, a risky scene choice will show the directors I’ve studied my craft. I’ve done the work.
If only I had someone to help me run lines.
The thought is like a blade to my heart.
Mackenzie used to run lines with me. She and I shared a living space on location forThe Last Wave. Neither of us were top-tier stars, but we ended up loving our roommate situation.
Mackenzie isn’t a nepo-baby like me, but a girl who grew up on a farm in Virginia. Bright, funny, and so very talented. She won me over the moment we met, asking if my soy milk would be offended by hers from a cow.
