Page 60 of Marisol Acts the Part
I swallow hard, realizing what this means. That maybe I didn’t get this role after all. Or at least not the way I thought I did. Based on merit and my performance ability. I got it because I was Miles’s ex-girlfriend.
Rune has never operated logically—that much has been clear since day one. But this takes things to a whole new level. We’re fighting a losing battle. There’s no way we’ll ever be able to convince him to change his mind, because he never wants to admit that he’s wrong.
And no one ever tries to stop him.
“This seems a bit intense, though, doesn’t it?” another voice says, to my surprise. It’s one of the adult actors—Miles’s character’s dad—who chimes in, sitting up from his own director’s chair, cup of coffee still in hand. He says it casually, the way only a seasoned pro can. Someone who’s seen their fair share of overly demanding directors.
“They’re kids,” the actress who plays my mom adds. Coming to my defense like she’s my off-screen mom too.
“And they’ve been together for weeks,” a PA chimes in, someone who ran our notes back and forth for us. “No one has noticed anything off about the dynamic.”
There’s a general murmur of agreement throughout the room, both from our castmates and the crew. Esther, to Rune’s left, nods hard enough to make her topknot come loose. Hope swells through me as I take in the dozens of nodding heads, finally turning to Jamila. Her attention is still so focused on Rune that she startles when I reach for her hand. For a moment, I expect her to pull away, but she doesn’t. She smiles and steps closer to me, our linked fingers pressed between us. We can stand up to him, put an end to his tyranny for good. Together.
But not everyone stands in support of us.
“It’s incredibly unprofessional,” Dawn interjects, hopping off her director’s chair to step between us and Rune. “We should be focused on our performances. Making sure we have our lines memorized and ready to go. Not making out between scenes.”
She doesn’t direct this at me, but her target is clear. It’s a not-at-all subtle jab at my struggles to keep up with Rune’s line adjustments. My nails dig into my palm as I clench my fists to keep myself from screaming. What the hell is her problem? What did we ever do to her to make her think she’s so much better than us? All we’ve ever done is be nice to her—even when she clearly didn’t deserve it.
Suddenly, a thought hits me. An accusation that I wouldn’t make out loud but that my gut tells me must be true. ThatDawnis the one who took the photo. I wouldn’t put it past her to insist on getting her phone back. Or even having more than one on her.
“I know my script back to front,” she preens before I canfigure out a way to voice my thought without outright accusing her. “Everyone’s lines. Not just mine.That’sprofessionalism.”
Well, hooray for her, but that doesn’t change anything.
Except, apparently, it does.
“On the grounds of unprofessionalism”—Rune claps his hands together before turning to me—“Marisol, you’re fired.”
Everyone gasps collectively, disgruntled whispers surrounding me like the buzzing of insects as I stammer out a choked “Wh-what?”
“You can’t do that!” Jamila protests, never letting go of my hand, tightening her grip.
Rune shrugs and folds his arms across his chest. “I can, and I have. Read your contracts.”
There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s right. That somehow, we missed some loophole in my agreement that allows him to do exactly this. Or maybe we let it slide, didn’t bother fighting it. Because we never thought it would come to this.
“Dawn, you’ll step in for Marisol,” Rune commands, and she looks like she won the lottery. “We’ll reshoot your scenes once we’ve brought someone else in.”
“You did this, didn’t you?” I shout at Dawn this time, not bothering to think of tact or a subtle way to go about accusing her. “You took the picture of us?”
Clearly, there’s only one person who stands to gain something if I’m kicked off the show. It’s the same person who’s acted like I have no right to be here since day one, and she just got exactly what she wanted. Dawn gasps, glaring me down, but she can’t shake me. Not anymore.
“I had nothing to do with it. We’re not even allowed tohave our phones,” she snaps back, and I see it. The veneer that separates the real Dawn from who she becomes whenever she performs. A strange lilt to her voice, a subtle tilt of herhead.
She’s lying. And she’s not even doing a good job at it.
“Next time you want to land a part, you should try doing a better job at your audition,” I spit back, whipping around on my heels before I can see her reaction. All hell breaks loose throughout the room, PAs and producers clamoring to get Rune to see some sense, cast members shaking their heads in confusion and disappointment. Dawn yells something back at me that I don’t quite hear, but I flip her off anyway. Screw having her on my good side. I don’t need to be associated with someone like her to advance my career when she’s trying to tank it. Jamila stands in front of me, blocking an escape route, and she cups my face.
“We’ll figure this out, okay?” she says, her voice nervous and borderline frantic. “He can’t do this.”
Except he can. Esther already warned me of that. I’ve seen it with my own eyes—crew members fired one morning and back the next. And why would he change his mind when he has Dawn, the Hollywood golden child, ready and willing to take over my role at the drop of a hat? We can fight and claw our way into forcing him to let me stay, but is it really worth the effort?
All I’ve done since the table read is try to be the person Rune so desperately wants me to be in the name of trying to prove myself as an actor. But what do the color of my hair, what clothes I wear, or my perfume have to do with who I am as a performer? I know I’ve given the best performance I possiblycan, and if that’s not enough for him, then what else is there left for me to give? He can try to strip me of everything that makes meme,and I can keep telling myself it’s worth it to change my career, but I’m done.
I’m Marisol Polly-Rodriguez.That’swho I am as an actor. And Rune can never take that away from me.
“It’s fine,” I say, my voice lost under the general chaos of the room. My hand rests on top of Jamila’s, pulling gently until she lets go of my face. I give her hand one last squeeze and back away slowly, the fight seeping out of me like sand through my fingers. “I don’t want to be a part of this show anymore.”
