I pulled the printed script pages out of my back pocket, unfolded them and read my dialogue out loud. “How’s that?”
“You read your lines, you didn’t recite them from memory.”
“I’m better when I prepare right before the audition. The scene stays fresh. I read once in the National Enquirer that Laurence Olivier did it that way and said it made all the difference.”
Hondo laughed as he pulled into the parking area. “You’re so full of it, you even have me believing you.”
We entered the office, and the casting director’s assistant jotted down our information. We took seats in the waiting area. One other actor was there; a big, handsome fellow, and they called him into the next room as we sat down. I went over my lines again and thought I was good, so I relaxed and waited.
The door banged open and the handsome actor hurried out, crying like a thirteen-year old girl who just saw the Twilight movies for the first time.
I looked at Hondo, who said, “Piece of cake.”
They called me first. I walked through the door and stopped on my mark. Two men sat behind a table, and another one stood behind the camera so I could read to him. He said, “Give your slate.”
I did, giving my name, the role, and the date.
One of the men at the table wore a plaid flannel shirt and had a nicely trimmed beard, going for the lumberjack look. He growled, “This is a macho role. What makes you think you’re a fit for it?”
“Because I’m a macho man.” I came within a hair of singing that old Village People song, but this fellow didn’t look like he had a sense of humor. So I kept it straight.
“You are, huh?”
I played it cool, although his attitude irritated me. “That’s what the big boys tell me,” I said.
“Prove it.”
Now where do you go with that? This was a casting call, not a biker bar. Did this guy, and he wasn’t as large as me, want to go at it? Jeeze Louise, I thought, the things I do for an acting gig. “Get up,” I motioned with my hands for him to stand.
He did, and came around the table while his partner did the same, going around the opposite end and flanking me.
I shifted my feet into a bi-jong stance and could tell they didn’t recognize it as anything. I was pissed now and said, “I’m not playing. If we start this, I won’t stop until you two are on the floor waiting for the paramedics. How about you just give me the role and we can part friends.”
“Is that what you think?”
“It is.”
Both men visibly relaxed and grinned, sticking out their hands. “You’ve got it, Mr. Baca. Nice air of danger coming off you.”
“I don’t have to say my lines?”
“Nope. You can relax. You passed the audition. They’ll give you the papers to sign outside. See you on set.”
I said, “Are you doing this with everyone coming in to audition?”
“Yes.” They smiled and returned to their chairs on the other side of the desk.
“Okay. My friend is Hondo Wells, and he’s next on your list. He doesn’t have much of a sense of humor, so I would suggest doing a normal audition with him.”
Beard guy said, “I’ll be the judge of that.”
I leaned over the table, getting close to their faces to make my point, “The instant you challenge him there won’t be a chance to utter another word. He will tear this nice table to splinters getting to you. When he finishes, if you’re alive, you’ll need plaster casts on every extremity, and a year to heal.” I leaned back, “You look healthy enough, so you can probably get by on a single kidney.”
Their faces paled. They looked at each other. Beard guy swallowed several times, and his Adams apple bobbed like a fishing cork with a perch pulling on the hook. He said, “Are you serious?”
“As cancer. Peace, brother,” I said, holding my first two fingers in a V as I walked out of the room.
I came out the door smiling, and Hondo said, “Well?”