around.
Marc Blackwell walks towards the stage . He sees me, but doesn’t say a word at first . Instead, he walks right to the front row and takes a seat.
‘Hel-lo.’ I stammer.
‘ Are you ready to entertain me this afternoon, Miss Rose ? ’ His voice is so deep, I feel it all the way to my feet .
I swallow. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I guess I am.’ I stand awkwardly, not knowing what to do.
He stares at me intently, a devilish smile pulling at the corners of his lips. ‘Well?’ he says eventually.
‘Well what?’ I ask.
‘What are you waiting for? Get up on the stage.’
‘Oh. Right. Sorry,’ I murmur, finding the three wooden steps up to the stage. I stumble on the first one, and catch myself on smooth wood.
‘Nervous?’ Marc gets to his feet.
‘Yes,’ I admit.
‘Don’t be.’ He takes my arm and steadies me so I can get up. I feel his warmth against my s kin and smell his cologne . It’s the same scent I smelt on the card.
I climb up on stage and Marc steps back.
‘Let’s see what you can do,’ he says, pacing back and forth . ‘You are ...’ He opens a laptop case and pulls out a script. ‘ Call of the Night . Our femme fatale, Jennifer. Persuading Jonathan to give her the part.’
I clear my throat and head to the centre of the stage. ‘I don’t think I’ll be very good,’ I say. ‘It’s so different from the parts I usually play.’
‘I know,’ says Marc. ‘That’s why I selected i t. I looked over your CV, and the notes I made at your audition. Wonderful a cting, but nothing too provocative . All very nicey nicey parts, and usually naive young girls. I want to see your sultry side. Jennifer knows what she wants. She uses her body and her brain to succeed. Let’s see what you make of her.’
‘Right .’ I take the play from my pocket, but Marc bounds up the stage steps and takes it from my hands.
‘No,’ he says. ‘Why do you think I gave you so little time to practise? I’d like to see you feel the part . To use your subconscious and your imagination to become the character.’
‘B ut I really don’t know the character too well.’ I can feel the heat of his body. He’s too close. It’s uncomfortable. I take a step back. ‘ Mr Blackwell , I don’t think I can do this.’
‘You can.’
I feel tears coming. ‘Mr Blackwell , I can’t,’ I say. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t want to leave the college, but I’m just not good enough.’
Marc shakes his head. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
I look away, embarrassed by my tears.
‘Look at me,’ he whispers.
I do, and I see his eyes are searching back and forth .
‘You can do it ,’ says Marc. ‘You are what you believe you are. If you believe you’re not good enough, then you’ll fail. Here, in my college, I make sure everyone believes in themselves. You’re a good actress. I’ve seen you perform. You can do this. I’ll start reading as Jonathan, and you jump in, okay?’
He steps back, and begins pacing around the stage.
‘Okay.’ I clear my throat again, and try to make my body feel more like Jennifer . But I’m so uptight. So rigid. Fear is holding me captive.
‘Ready?’ Marc asks.
I give a li ttle nod, but I’m not ready at all .
Chapter 17
‘Thank you for your time, Jennifer,’ Marc begins , his posture and voice changing to that of an older man . ‘I’ve seen enough for today. I’ll let you know .’
I swallow, thinking of the script. The words buzz around my mind, tripping over themselves and confusing me. He wants me to adlib, I think. I try to let it all go. Instead of feeling fear, I try to feel what Jennifer must be feeling, as the type of person she is. Anger. Frustration. To have worked so hard for a part, and not be given it.
‘Oh, I don’t think you’ve seen enough at all,’ I say, feeling my shoulders pull back, and my hips sway to the left. ‘I really do have so much more to show you.’
Something flashes in Marc ’s eyes. He l o oks pleased.
‘No,
Marc Blackwell walks towards the stage . He sees me, but doesn’t say a word at first . Instead, he walks right to the front row and takes a seat.
‘Hel-lo.’ I stammer.
‘ Are you ready to entertain me this afternoon, Miss Rose ? ’ His voice is so deep, I feel it all the way to my feet .
I swallow. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I guess I am.’ I stand awkwardly, not knowing what to do.
He stares at me intently, a devilish smile pulling at the corners of his lips. ‘Well?’ he says eventually.
‘Well what?’ I ask.
‘What are you waiting for? Get up on the stage.’
‘Oh. Right. Sorry,’ I murmur, finding the three wooden steps up to the stage. I stumble on the first one, and catch myself on smooth wood.
‘Nervous?’ Marc gets to his feet.
‘Yes,’ I admit.
‘Don’t be.’ He takes my arm and steadies me so I can get up. I feel his warmth against my s kin and smell his cologne . It’s the same scent I smelt on the card.
I climb up on stage and Marc steps back.
‘Let’s see what you can do,’ he says, pacing back and forth . ‘You are ...’ He opens a laptop case and pulls out a script. ‘ Call of the Night . Our femme fatale, Jennifer. Persuading Jonathan to give her the part.’
I clear my throat and head to the centre of the stage. ‘I don’t think I’ll be very good,’ I say. ‘It’s so different from the parts I usually play.’
‘I know,’ says Marc. ‘That’s why I selected i t. I looked over your CV, and the notes I made at your audition. Wonderful a cting, but nothing too provocative . All very nicey nicey parts, and usually naive young girls. I want to see your sultry side. Jennifer knows what she wants. She uses her body and her brain to succeed. Let’s see what you make of her.’
‘Right .’ I take the play from my pocket, but Marc bounds up the stage steps and takes it from my hands.
‘No,’ he says. ‘Why do you think I gave you so little time to practise? I’d like to see you feel the part . To use your subconscious and your imagination to become the character.’
‘B ut I really don’t know the character too well.’ I can feel the heat of his body. He’s too close. It’s uncomfortable. I take a step back. ‘ Mr Blackwell , I don’t think I can do this.’
‘You can.’
I feel tears coming. ‘Mr Blackwell , I can’t,’ I say. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t want to leave the college, but I’m just not good enough.’
Marc shakes his head. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
I look away, embarrassed by my tears.
‘Look at me,’ he whispers.
I do, and I see his eyes are searching back and forth .
‘You can do it ,’ says Marc. ‘You are what you believe you are. If you believe you’re not good enough, then you’ll fail. Here, in my college, I make sure everyone believes in themselves. You’re a good actress. I’ve seen you perform. You can do this. I’ll start reading as Jonathan, and you jump in, okay?’
He steps back, and begins pacing around the stage.
‘Okay.’ I clear my throat again, and try to make my body feel more like Jennifer . But I’m so uptight. So rigid. Fear is holding me captive.
‘Ready?’ Marc asks.
I give a li ttle nod, but I’m not ready at all .
Chapter 17
‘Thank you for your time, Jennifer,’ Marc begins , his posture and voice changing to that of an older man . ‘I’ve seen enough for today. I’ll let you know .’
I swallow, thinking of the script. The words buzz around my mind, tripping over themselves and confusing me. He wants me to adlib, I think. I try to let it all go. Instead of feeling fear, I try to feel what Jennifer must be feeling, as the type of person she is. Anger. Frustration. To have worked so hard for a part, and not be given it.
‘Oh, I don’t think you’ve seen enough at all,’ I say, feeling my shoulders pull back, and my hips sway to the left. ‘I really do have so much more to show you.’
Something flashes in Marc ’s eyes. He l o oks pleased.
‘No,
Similar Books
