Stealing From The Sheikh (The Sheikh's American Love 2)

“You have your CV and headshots with you?”

Riley nodded. Well at least they’ve found one way to weed out the worst of the candidates, she thought. The woman gave her a quick up-and-down look, and Riley knew exactly what she was seeing: a tall, slim, slightly leggy twenty-something with wavy, copper-colored hair and wide-set, sea green eyes.

“Come on in,” the woman said impassively. She held the door open and Riley stepped through it.

She hadn’t realized how warm it had been in the waiting room, with all the people sitting aro

und and fidgeting, until the door into the main audition room closed behind her. Riley took a brief moment to take in the people who would decide her fate: two men and a woman were sitting at a little folding card table, in chairs only slightly more comfortable than the ones in the waiting room. One of the men was maybe in his early thirties, with a shaved-bald head and a trimmed dark brown goatee shot through with a few threads of gray. He wore square-framed glasses and a black tee shirt and jeans. The other man was about the same age but with shoulder-length strawberry blond hair and a clean-shaven face. The woman was probably older than either of the two men, with steel-gray hair cut to her jawline. Other members of the casting team were scattered around the room, quiet and almost insignificant in comparison to the three directors.

“Riley Townsend?” The woman had a surprisingly soft voice.

Riley smiled, moving forward to approach the table.

“Pleased to meet you,” Riley said, slipping her headshot and CV free of the script sides she’d brought in with her.

“I apologize for how long you’ve been waiting,” the bald man said, meeting her gaze through the frames of his glasses. “We didn’t expect quite such a high turnout.”

“I don’t mind waiting for a good cause,” Riley said, putting her CV down on the table.

“Gives you plenty of chance to study the script, too,” the woman pointed out.

“I actually downloaded the sample from the website last night,” Riley told them. “I wanted to get it as close to memorized as possible.”

“We’ll see how well you did at that,” the strawberry blond man said.

“I have to make you aware that we’re unfortunately going to have to cut your reading short,” the bald man explained, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “With so many talented actors to see, we want to give as many of you as fair a shot as possible.”

“I understand,” Riley said, nodding. “It happens a lot.”

“It says here you came from Las Vegas?” said the woman, and Riley nodded. “Did you do any work there?”

“No, actually,” she admitted. “I tried out for a couple of the revues, but I’d rather be in film than on stage for the most part—so coming out to California seemed like the natural thing to do.” The woman nodded approvingly.

“You’re taking classes at The Learning Annex?”

Riley smiled at the strawberry blond. “Always room for improvement,” she replied.

“Would you be willing to dye your hair, or make other changes to your appearance for the part?”

Riley considered the question; on the one hand, it was important for any actor to brand themselves—and her hair definitely set her apart from some of the other actresses her age. On the other hand, she didn’t want to seem like a prima donna, especially when she was trying to get a good break—a solid role in a larger film or TV show.

“If it makes sense for the role, then of course I’m willing to do whatever it takes to embody it,” Riley said.

After a few more questions—standard fare, as far as Riley’s experience went—the man in the middle asked her to get up onto the stage so that they could film her reading.

“I hate that we have to make you cut it short,” the man said, shrugging apologetically.

“I understand,” Riley said, smiling as she took the three steps onto the makeshift stage.

There were a few members of the production team stationed on either side, and her gaze slid across them, just long enough to acknowledge their presence. She took up her position at center stage and watched the three people ultimately responsible for deciding whether or not she would get the part.

“You can begin,” the woman at the table said. Riley nodded once, took a breath, and launched into the dialogue she’d all but memorized.

The long-haired man at the table took up the dialogue part with her, and Riley turned her attention onto him, the way that she would if she was playing the scene on set. It seemed like little more than thirty seconds instead of two minutes, but Riley thought, watching the faces of the three judges and the other crewmembers in the room, that she had done well. Not that it means a whole lot, considering that there are at least forty girls waiting to come in after me, Riley thought.

“We’ll be in touch,” the woman at the table said. “We wish we could spend more time with you, but unfortunately there are just too many candidates.”

Riley smiled her warmest smile and nodded. “I appreciate you taking the time to see me,” she said. She climbed off of the stage and picked up her bag, stuffing the script sides into it and checking to make sure that she had everything.

As she made her way towards the door leading out of the audition room, Riley glanced around. There was a man standing off to the side of the stage, and her gaze had almost passed over him when she realized that he was starting at her intently.

He was tall, dressed unremarkably in jeans and a tee shirt. But as she hesitated for just a moment, taking him in, Riley saw that he was by far the most handsome man in the room: deep olive skin, dark hair, and unusual hazel eyes staring at her from underneath thick, well-groomed eyebrows. He looked young—no older than thirty, by Riley’s snap estimate, and looked to be of Middle-Eastern heritage. She thought he had to be relatively fresh out of film school somewhere, working his way up.

She met his gaze and held it for just a moment, smiling as she felt her cheeks warm at the intent look he was giving her. She barely inclined her head towards him and then hurried out of the room, not wanting to be labeled as the kind of actress who went around flirting with crewmembers at auditions.

As she made her way down the hall and towards the building exit, the man’s face lingered in Riley’s mind even more than the three casting directors’ faces did—there was something about him that Riley couldn’t quite place, but that was appealing. She smiled to herself as she pushed the exit door open and stepped through it; maybe if she was lucky she’d end up running into him somewhere where she actually could talk to him.