Friday, 7 September 2012

68 - Right, said Fred

The mirror-wall of the downtown studio sucked in the Fall gloom, thinning rather than enhancing the weak evening light. Mae stood, expectant, in front of her reflected self, willing him to begin his god dammed audition and let her get her tired god dammed body back to her apartment. She blew cigarette smoke up at the ceiling, and waited some more.
“I, er, haven’t got anything prepared.”
Her dark eyes showed she knew that already.
“Look, I’m more of an actor than a dancer.”
“You’re what the studio says you are if you wanna work in this town, honey.”
She relented a little.
“Come towards me; come at me; and when you reach me, stop as if I’m just too precious to touch.”
He raised an eyebrow; he raised a god dammed eyebrow! She almost liked this guy and his hutzpah.
“Your résumé says you can act and dance a little. Well dance, dammit!”
He thought about it, cupping his chin and smirking. His look seemed to ask: ‘Are you ready, sister?’
He walked. He walked for Christ’s sake! Only, he heel-toe-kicked as he did so, and the nearer he got the quicker he tapped and the harder her heart beat until he stopped dead in front of her. His head inclined to her neck, she could feel his breath, and his hands were either side of her waist, she could feel their warmth. This was so unprofessional, she thought; I’m blushing!
She breathed once more.
“Screen tests begin 7am. Be there.”

No comments:

Post a Comment