“Rachel has a friend who does casting for Pedro Almodóvar, and he’s looking for fresh faces for his next film. I have a script to practice. If you’ll read it with me for the audition, it will help me get the part. I can’t talk to a wall and be convincing. They want to see me tomorrow morning. Are you free to do it?”
“I don’t have anything scheduled. Do you have the script with you?”
He patted the messenger bag beside him in the booth. “I do. Do you want to come to my place? Or we could go to yours.”
“My place,” she offered.
He had a red MG and drove them to her condo. When they came in, she saw the pink rose bouquet on the security guard’s counter. “Are those for me?”
“Yes, Miss Santillan. The same chauffeur brought them. There’s a long dress for you too.”
“Thank you, Henry.” The silvery gown was in a clear drycleaner’s bag, and she folded it over her arm while Gian Carlo picked up the bouquet.
The roses held sparkles of dew as though they’d just been plucked from a well-tended garden. “You’d think a man who’d go to this expense would sign his name,” Gian Carlo mused. When they reached the elevator, he pressed the button. “Could they be from a woman?”
“I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose they could be, but whoever it is must expect something in return.”
“Maybe they’re simply dazzled by your beauty.”
Ana stepped into the elevator, removed her hat and shook out her hair. “No one appreciates us for our intelligence and charm, though, do they?”
“I don’t complain.” When they reached her floor, he followed her down the hall to her door. “Let me go in first and make certain everything is all right.”
“I’m sure it is. We have excellent security.” She unlocked the door and gestured for him to precede her. Afternoon sunlight bounced off the living room’s pale yellow walls, giving the pretty room a cozy warmth. The furniture was upholstered in a vivid blue and buttery yellow along with a wing chair covered in a complementing floral fabric. A thick cream-colored area rug softened Gian Carlo’s footsteps as he carried the roses to the glass-topped coffee table.
“The yellow roses look the prettiest in here,” he offered. “Do you want these in another room?”
Unwilling to give him a tour, she shook her head. “Leave them with the others.” She hung the gown in the coat closet. Libby had attached a note with her cell phone number, and Ana slipped it into her pocket. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you, I’m fine.” He sat on the couch and pulled the script from his bag. “This isn’t a long scene. Come here so you can read it with me. I’m playing Guillermo, who’s been hired by a man he’s always admired. It means he’ll be moving far away, and he’s saying good-bye to his girlfriend. He’s excited, and naturally, she’s stunned that he’s leaving her behind.”
She took her place beside him and pulled a throw pillow onto her lap. “How does one portray stunned?” she asked.
“I’m the one trying out for the part, Ana. It doesn’t matter what you do other than say your lines.”
She finger-raked her hair off her forehead. “Fine, you start.”
“Pretend I’m walking around the room, too excited to sit beside you.”
“Fine, I’ll use my imagination.” When he rushed through his opening lines, she raised her hand. “You need to slow down. You can still sound thrilled with this unexpected opportunity, but the audience needs to be able to understand you.”
He frowned and smoothed the page. “There won’t be an audience, Ana. It will just be the casting director and us.”
Gian Carlo’s looks had made him a successful model, but he hadn’t shown her even a shred of acting talent. “Take your time and give the casting director a longer opportunity to observe you.”
“Oh, I see what you mean. Let’s start again.”
Ana had only a word here and there, but she soon got caught up in the emotion of the scene. She spoke her first line softly, the second a little louder, and when her character realized Guillermo was leaving her, she went way past stunned to a vivid heart-wrenching sob. She looked up at Gian Carlo. “How was that?”
“A little over the top, but the casting director will be looking at me, so it won’t matter.”
They ran through the scene a couple of more times, and when he was satisfied they could give it a professional reading, he stood, ready to go. “I hope the scene didn’t depress you. I don’t have the whole script, but your character probably appears at the end and spits in Guillermo’s eye.”
“I’ve never had an occasion to spit, so we’re lucky it isn’t in this scene.” He’d pick her up in the morning, and she wished him good-bye at the door.
With time on her hands, she loaded the photos of Alejandro into her laptop. Asleep, he looked older, and she wondered if they weren’t closer in age than she’d first thought. He had a lanky build. Maybe he jogged or played soccer. Whatever exercise he chose, he looked fit and damn good. Even if his age wasn’t an issue, he had no idea who she was. If he had known, he would have bragged to his friends about meeting her, and she’d not have wanted to see him again. It was better to be a Goth girl who appeared occasionally on a Sunday afternoon. They’d both have fun, and no one would be disappointed or hurt.
Ignacio Belmonte was a highly regarded casting director, but he looked startled when Ana and Gian Carlo were shown into his office. Ignacio was of medium heig