“I’m not canceling this trip,” she spat out, channeling her inner diva with a flip of her long hair. Hiding her slight southern accent was the hardest part of this process, but she’d been practicing for weeks and thought she had it down pretty well. “Do you have any idea—”

“Cut!”

Huh?

Michaela snapped her mouth closed at once, and her arms slumped limply to her sides. That was it? She’d only made it through half the assigned script.

“What is this shit, Bob?” The casting director stood with a mighty frown and aimed the question at a talent agent seated at the back of the room.

Michaela peeked over her shoulder in time to see Bob shrug. “Don’t know. She ain’t one of mine.”

“Who got you this audition, kid?” the director asked with an expression akin to someone drinking spoiled milk.

“Um, E-Elvira with Star Finder Incorporated.” The eclectic agent with snowy white hair and enormous cat-eye glasses had promised Michaela would be absolutely perfect for the role.

“SFI.” The director snorted. “Figures.”

Her face heated under the stare of everyone sitting at the table.

“I-is there a problem, sir?” Trying to speak louder than the pounding of her heart had her nearly yelling.

“Yeah, there’s a problem.” He slapped his palms down on the table as he rose. “There’s a huge fucking problem. Have you even looked in a mirror today?”

Michaela blinked as every person in the room abandoned their tasks and fixed their curious gazes on her. She felt as though she were naked, standing in front of a panel of hypercritical judges all taking pot shots at her in their minds. Though only the casting director slung the insults, agreement with his assessment shone on projected from every other person’s face.

The tip of her nose tingled with the urge to burst into tears.

Had she looked in a mirror?

Seriously?

Only the stark fear of disrespecting a man who held her fragile future in his hands kept her from laughing out loud. She’d spent approximately four hours in front of the mirror, bleaching then styling her hair, giving herself a homemade oatmeal and honey facial, and slapping on more makeup than she’d ever worn. That was after countless hours of YouTube tutorials on how to apply Hollywood-style makeup.

“I’m sorry, sir, is my makeup smudged?” She ran a quick finger under each eye, proud of the way her voice didn’t waver. Because inside, she was a quivering mess of fear and anxiety.

He sighed. “No. Look, I’m gonna save you a lot of time, trouble, and heartache, okay, kid?”

The quiet in the room somehow rushed louder than the roar of an angry sea.

Michaela nodded. What else was she supposed to do with the spotlight on her? Argue?

Flee?

Tempting.

“Go to college. Get a degree and a real job. Move on with your life.”

What?

Her chest constricted as though a band tightened with each word he spoke. Move on with her life? This was her life. At least, her life’s dream.

“I-uh, I’m not interested in college,” she said in a small voice. The bleach blond female clones and eclectically dressed men’s gazes morphed from interested to pitying, as if they all recognized what the casting director meant while she was still in the dark. “I want to be an actress.”

He sighed and ran a hand down his face as though weary from the conversation. “I’ve sat through thousands of these auditions in my career. And here’s the thing, we usually know within five seconds of you walking in the door whether you have it or you don’t. And I’m sorry, kid, but you don’t. It’s a look. A vibe. An attitude. Some girls are Hollywood, and some aren’t. You can dress up a turd and all that…” With a shrug, he sat and began shuffling through a stack of papers as though he hadn’t destroyed her life. “It’s an expression for a reason.”

A fat tear wavered in the corner of her eye, blurring her vision and threatening to roll down her face at any second. She blinked rapidly. The man would not get the satisfaction of seeing her crack. He would not go out tonight and laugh with his buddies about how he made the simple country girl cry by wrecking her dreams with a few cutting words.

She was too ugly to be a serious actress. That’s what he’d said. Not pretty enough, maybe not skinny enough, or glamorous enough. Regardless, the message was clear.

You’re not good enough.

“You may go.” He was back to speaking without so much as glancing in her direction.

She’d been dismissed.

Michaela swallowed a painful lump as she turned and began to walk toward the exit with measured steps. The sound of her thrift-store heeled boots clacking on the tile floor rang out like shots of a gun in the silent room.

Her arms hung heavy and lifeless at her sides, not swinging as she strode on stiff legs. She felt like a doll with a plush, vulnerable center and rigid plastic limbs that couldn’t bend. She didn’t so much as blink as she held the fake smile and focused straight ahead on the door. But with each forward step, she grew closer to losing her composure.

Tags: Lilly Atlas Blue Collar Bensons Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net