Page 8 of You Spin Me

Hey, Boston, Nigel gave up his paycheck this week so you people can have commercial-free rock and roll all weekend. So maybe bring him a snack or something.

JESS

When I get to the theater for my callback Saturday morning—only fifteen minutes late, not too bad for me—I’m glad to see that the room isn’t crammed full of actors. It’s nice when they’ve actually whittled down their choices for the second round. Scanning the room, I home in on a tall, good-looking, white guy sitting in one of the chairs.

“Excuse me, are you by any chance called back for Bruce?” When he smiles, I continue. “I’m reading for Prudence, and I was wondering if you’d like to run through the scene with me?”

“Uh, sure.” He moves a briefcase to the floor to create space next to him. “I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

I tip my head to the side as I try to place him. “Were you at that Duncan Hines callback right before Thanksgiving?”

“I was.” He holds out a hand to shake mine. “Jack Wells.”

“Jess Abraham. Nice to meet you.”

“I did not get the frosting job,” he says. “Did you?”

I drop my purse on the floor and sit sideways on the chair facing him. “Nah, they said I was too ethnic.”

“What?” His light brown brows scrunch together over light brown eyes. Everything about him is kind of light brown, but there’s an intensity in his voice that’s compelling. “What does that even mean?”

“Not blonde.” Shrugging, I paw through my bag looking for my script.

He holds up the play. “Anyway, shall we?”

Having found my makeup case as well as my own copy, I open my compact. “Let me check my face real quick, in case they call us in.”

He scans my face, his assessment—refreshingly—more professional than personal. “You look good to me.”

With a polite smile, I clarify, “Thanks, but I’m actually not supposed to looktoogood.”

He tips his head to the side. “Maybe take off the lipstick, then?”

“You think?”

He nods curtly. “Definitely.”

After I scrub my lips with a tissue and then reapply lip balm, we run the scene. While Jack plays it broadly, I do my best to keep my character Prudence low-key and uptight. It isn’t easy. When we finish, I let out an exaggerated, “Phew! I almost Harvey Korman’d about three times. You’re hilarious.”

“Thanks.” He seems truly pleased. “You’re an awesome straight man. Or woman.”

“You don’t think I’m coming across too bitchy?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you want to call it, it worked for me—gave me a lot to play off of.”

“They do say it’s better to make a big choice and let them rein you in.” I flip through the pages to expel a bit of nervous energy. “The play is pretty ridiculous.”

“Yeah. But you still have to ground it in reality. Can’t find the farce without it.”

“So true.” I point to the other scene in my script. “Are you doing this as well?”

I end up having such a good time with Jack that my usual anxieties fade, which is good, since I worked myself into a tizzy on the way up here. Being desperate for the job is the best way to lose one, but it’s not easy to drop.

Once we’re in the theater, we have them laughing within minutes. And when Miles makes a few suggestions, I’m able to shift gears without overanalyzing everything.

Things don’t go as well when they have me read with a different actor in the role of Bruce. This guy doesn’t introduce himself, as if he’s so famous I should know who he is. I can’t get eye contact during the scene, and he doesn’t react to anything I’m doing. It’s so extreme I decide to roll with it and let being ignored get to Prudence. It’s a completely different tack and feels wrong after the fun I had with Jack, but what can I do? I have to work with what I’m given.

When they dismiss us without any notes, I’m relieved, even as I hope that I didn’t just shoot myself in the foot. Out in the lobby, I’m surprised—and dismayed, if I’m honest—to see Rhonda Williams. She played the other heroine inTwo Gentsthis fall, and Will told me that she won the role of Ophelia.

---