Chapter 9
Doug
Filming the tryouts began at home in Los Angeles two weeks after Christmas. The L.A. hopefuls skewed older and more hardened, which was something Alan had predicted. It was a good place to start. Everyone here thought they were a triple threat, and almost all of them had day jobs while they pursued their dream on the side. I didn’t have to worry about hurting feelings here. In every person in line I saw Willa: show them a little compassion, a little kindness, and they’d crush you with it.
We were both doing a good job of ignoring each other. I understood why she was annoyed with me, but it didn’t make it right. I hadn’t said a word about our fake relationship to anyone, and I wouldn’t. As far as my brother knew, we were coworker friends.
I was too busy to worry too much about what the future would hold. Before we saw any real contestants, there were several planning meetings with the new director, some mock tryouts, and another photo shoot, this time surrounding the official Triple Threat desk. From here, Justin, Victoria, and I would give our verdicts on whether any of these people had talent.
Word was starting to spread. My mother called me hourly and left messages. I pleaded with her to stay home, telling her it would void my contract if I allowed outsiders on set. The lie placated her. For now.
Cameras caught a smiling Willa working the crowd, interviewing hopefuls and taking pictures with them. It was the greatest acting I’d ever seen come out of her. Up until then, I hadn’t considered what being the host really meant. She had to be everyone’s cheerleader, everyone’s BFF. Honestly, watching it kind of weirded me out, and worse, made me question every conversation I’d ever had with her.
Once the first contestant stood waiting outside, it was my turn to step into a role. The new director, Stanley, seemed like a puppet extending from Alan’s arm, so he only reiterated I was to be as hard as possible on the talent and demand perfection. I had accepted that, though I had my own set of limits I hoped I wouldn’t be challenged on.
The show’s talent scouts had already vetted the first chunk of contestants, which meant we would likely either see extreme talent or people embarrassing themselves for comedic value. This was the part I’d always hated watching on TV, though our key demographic was guaranteed to love it.
The guy who came in first was shirtless and super confident as he introduced himself as Gene Esperanza, the next Triple Threat. He kept flipping his hair out of his face as he talked, and I could tell he was proud of it, this trendy buzz cut with a long wavy section on top that he could flop around at will.
Gene had chosen dance out of the hat, which was what he’d been hoping for, and he did a few moves of a lyrical number in front of us before Victoria shut him down by using the buzzer they’d provided us. I had a feeling she and that buzzer were going to be good friends. Maybe I wouldn’t have to carry the entire bad guy load after all.
But then she opened her mouth and lightly touched the back of her poufy hair. “I don’t need to see more. That was … amazing. I mean, I do want to see more…” She gave a breathy laugh. I’d forgotten she was still shopping for her next husband, and here was a shirtless specimen right in front of her. What kind of a joke had I gotten myself into? I forced my eyes not to search for Willa, to see her reaction. We weren’t friends. Right now, we weren’t anything.
Victoria stopped purring and turned to Justin to get his verdict.
According to the rules we’d set out, two-out-of-three yesses meant we wanted to see more, and we would choose whether that meant singing or acting, since we’d already watched him dance.
Justin pushed back his chair and gave the guy a standing ovation, which was laying it on a little thick. This was the first guy. There were five hundred just like him waiting outside. I leaned forward on my elbows and rubbed my eyebrows. I needed coffee. I didn’t even have to fake the irritability. It was coming naturally.
“I’m not impressed, but my opinion’s been over-ruled. Go ahead. Let’s see you run through your scene.” I sat back in my chair, channeling the evil stare I’d perfected as Reyson Wrath on Strength Warriors.
The acting bit was the part of the show I’d been looking forward to.
Justin Justice, when he wasn’t strutting around trying to be everyone’s best friend, continued to have great ideas. He’d come up with the plan to have a guy in a chicken suit read lines with the contestants. They wouldn’t know until the chicken walked in holding a copy of the script, and then regardless of how they felt about it, that was their moment.
The guy Alan hired to wear the chicken suit crept up on Gene and tapped him on the shoulder with his script. The poor contestant about jumped out of his skin.
“Wait, this chicken is playing the part of Officer Lando?”
The three of us tried not to laugh as we nodded.
Gene squinted at his paper. He was supposed to play a twitchy criminal pulled over by the police. All the contestants had picked out a script to rehearse when they registered, so it wasn’t like he was unfamiliar with the material. He’d just assumed, like everyone else, that one of the judges would run lines with him.
Gene finally sat in the provided chair, which was the only prop he’d get.
The chicken man leaned on a pretend car frame with his forearm and asked. “Can I see your license and registration?”
Gene continued to stare at his script for several seconds, and then read his line as if he’d never seen it before. It was awful. He had the twitchy part down, but he couldn’t stop staring at the chicken suit without complete bewilderment.
The shine had worn off for Victoria. She gave him a no. Justin gave him a two-minute pep talk before giving him a no. I shook my head and told him the non-disclosure form was on the table on his way out. Alan had added all sorts of scary penalties to it in hopes of keeping the chicken suit a secret for as long as possible. We also had a Viking costume and a yeti suit tucked away, just to keep things interesting.
The door the contestants exited out of didn’t lead back into the building, another precaution to keep the audition process a secret. The contestant’s family and friends were escorted out so they could greet him on the other side while cameras waited to catch the after euphoria or disappointment. With any luck, we’d work out any kinks here before we took this on the road.
Willa
People love a beautiful smiling face. All day long, day after day, I chatted with strangers, got to know them, commiserated when they didn’t make it, celebrated with them when they did. They felt like they knew me. People I was supposed to remember came up to me in the halls and walked with me, wanting to know where I was going, asking what was happening next. They wanted my opinion on their song choices or what they should wear for their audition.
This was the marathon to star status, and every adoring fan was a step on the ladder. This show would lead to other projects, other endorsements, until I had enough money to move away and, I don’t know, buy a ranch or something. As much of a planner as I claimed to be, I could never get past that point. That post-success part of my future was as blank as a new canvas, because I had no idea what would ever bring me happiness. I’d settle for peace and quiet.
