Page 59 of The Small-Town Seduction Plan

But Madeline smiles, friendly. She’s got her dark hair pulled back in a low bun, and a pair of chunky vintage glasses on, wearing casual jeans and a crisp men’s button-down, intimidatingly cool. “I know, it’s weird, me just showing up like this. But I got your audition tape, and I was driving back to New York, and I just thought, why not cut out all the endless agent back-and-forth, and just drop by and meet you in person?”

I gape. “You saw my tape?”

“Yes.” Madeline’s expression is impossible to read. It could have impressed her, or been the worst pile of trash she’s ever witnessed.

She glances around. “Do you want to go get a cup of coffee? I saw a place in town on my drive through. Unless… I’m interrupting something,” she adds, eyeing my disheveled appearance with a faint grin.

Oh god, I cringe. She thinks she caught me in the middle of a wild sex marathon!

“Give me five minutes!” I blurt. “I’ll be right out!”

I flee back upstairs, realizing too late that I should have invited her in, and sat her down to wait with sparkling water, or fancy tea, or whatever it is you offer visionary artists who have the power to change your entire career with a single role.

But it’s too late. Now, all I can do is try to undo this terrible first impression, so she doesn’t think I’m a complete airhead slut– like every tabloid has been screaming for months.

Where’s a nun’s habit when you need one?

I dive into the shower, and manage to pull myself together in record time: dragging a brush through my birds’ nest hair, and matching her cool-girl vibe with a pair of cutoffs and a loose peasant blouse. OK, it’s technically seven-and-a-half minutes before I’m able to meet her out front, but I’ve got mascara on, clean pits, and even a swipe of lipgloss, too.

Now I just have to hope I can talk my way into the role of my dreams.

We head into Blackberry Cove and pick up coffees, taking a stroll around the town square. “Cute town,” Madeline remarks, looking around.

“It’s great!” I agree enthusiastically. “Everyone’s so friendly, it has really fun vibes.”

Vibes?

I scold myself. This is a sophisticated filmmaker here. The next Greta Gerwig or Sophia Coppola. I’m supposed to be impressing her with my intelligence and insight, not babbling away like I’m auditioning for a trashy reality show!

“Relax,” Madeline tells me, as if my nerves are written all over my face. “This isn’t an interrogation. I just wanted to meet in person, that’s all. I’ve seen a couple of your movies, but, well, you tend to play a certain type.”

“I know,” I agree with a sigh. “I’m the hot girlfriend, or the chick the hero gets to bang in the end. Occasionally with a nice crying scene, if I’m lucky.” I shrug. “And if they don’t cut it for time.”

“Come on,” Madeline protests, looking amused. “What about The Last Time You Left Me?” she asks, naming the one good project I’ve acted in; the one that made me think I was finally leveling up my career.

At least, before the tabloids decided to move in for the kill.

“It was great to dig my teeth into something with more substance,” I agree, as we take a seat on one of the benches. “That’s why I’m so excited about your project. Amelia is a fascinating subject,” I tell her eagerly. “I’ve been doing a ton of research.”

“I could tell,” Madeline says, with an assessing gaze. “Reading her letters for your audition tape, that’s a ballsy move.”

I gulp. Is that a good thing?

“I wanted to get in her head,” I explain, self-conscious. “All the books say she was passionate, obsessive. Every time she got in a plane, she knew it could be her last flight. There’s something fascinating about that mindset, taking that kind of risk. Loving it, even.”

Madeline just nods and sips her coffee. She’s impossible to read, which only makes me more nervous. Then a new thought strikes me. “Have you already decided on casting?” I ask, worried. Because if she’s already got an A-lister lined up, then I don’t stand a chance.

“No, I’m still thinking it over,” Madeline replies. “It’s a big choice,” she adds, giving me another thoughtful stare over the frames of her glasses. “It’s been hard enough for me to be taken seriously as a female director. Getting this film financed, with a studio willing to support the release, it’s going to be an uphill battle. And the reality is, who I cast could be the difference between getting the project made and in movie theaters… or not.”

My heart sinks.

“Then I’m the last person you want to pick,” I sit back with a sigh.

“Why’s that?”

“Come on,” I give her a look. “We all know, I’m a liability right now. The things people are saying about me, the photos,” I add grimly. “I know I would work my ass off if I had the chance, and I could be good, really good in this role, but… I know you’ve come a long way to even get to this point. I would hate to be the thing holding this movie back,” I tell her. “Some people are just never going to take me seriously, and it’s not just the old guys who write the checks, either.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Madeline says cryptically. “If there’s one thing Hollywood loves, it’s a reinvention.”

---