Page 32 of Anxious Hearts
Friday 3 February
Esme’s home office was a granny flat at the far end of her enormous garden. It had its own plumbing, air conditioning and home theatre setup, which Esme insisted was for work purposes only. She had also installed a retractable white screen that could be pulled down from the ceiling to create an audition backdrop. Finn sat in front of that screen now while Esme adjusted the camera tripod, alternating between putting on and taking off her glasses depending on whether she was looking at Finn or the camera screen.
Finn waited patiently. He was calm. This place had that effect on him. The old photos of Esme’s clients on the wall, the seclusion from the rest of the world and the motherly fussing of his agent all combined to give him the rare sensation of being somewhere that was safe.
Esme stepped out from behind the camera and adjusted Finn’s hair. She applied a final touch of makeup and stood back to examine her work. ‘Like a rare Caravaggio,’ she said.
‘Am I auditioning for a romantic comedy or an arthouse snoozefest?’
‘Don’t be cheeky. You could do a lot worse than an arthouse flick.The Next Karate Kiddid wonders for Hilary Swank.’
Finn laughed.
Esme returned to the camera, sat down on a stool and counted Finn in from three. ‘And . . . action,’ she said with unnecessary flair.
Finn stared down the barrel of the camera. Casting directors asked for a variety of different types of audition tape but they usually all started with personal details. ‘My name is Finn Walsh. I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m six foot two and I live in Melbourne, Australia. My agent is Esme Rubenstein of Esme’s Casting, and I currently play Sonny Lord in the Australian television seriesHenderson Springs. Today, I’m auditioning for the role of Augustine Pilberek.’
‘And . . . cut,’ Esme said.
Finn rolled his shoulders. ‘What did you think?’
‘Looked good, but we’ll do another one at the end of the shoot to compare your energy levels.’
‘Cool.’
‘All right, let me grab my script. You know your lines?’
Finn raised his eyebrows. ‘Please,’ he said sardonically.
Esme gathered a couple of sheets of paper and resumed her spot on the stool.
Finn took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled. He conjured up an image of his romantic co-star. Although he didn’t know which actress was playing the lead, there was a description of her character in the audition pack Esme had received. She was a 26-year-old self-made business owner from Texas who sold her own line of women’s bikinis. She’d started in her parents’ garage and had graduated to major online distribution. Her name was Molly Walters, and she deliberately projected a ditzy beach girl image to sell her bikinis, despite being an astute businesswoman and land-locked Texan. She was insecure about not growing up in California and made up for it by modelling her own creations on fake beach sets with old surfboards. The classic romantic comedy lead.
Finn’s character, Augustine (Gus) Pilberek was a 27-year-old venture capitalist and fellow Texan who worked for his father’s firm and had been assigned the job of assessing the viability of investing in Molly’s business. He compensated for his insecurity about working for his dad with overconfidence and bravado. The classic foil to the classic romantic comedy lead.
Finn knew it was all a bit saccharine and wouldn’t exactly plumb the depths of his acting skills, but it’s not likeHenderson Springswas delivering that challenge either. He could almost play Sonny Lord on autopilot. At least a Netflix movie could give him international exposure and possibly launch the next stage of his career.
So he imagined Sydney Sweeney mixed with Sabrina Carpenter, and the hybrid bombshell appeared in his mind’s eye as though she was standing right there in the room with him. He could actually sense her presence. Feel her energy. This is how he acted so well: the complete and uncompromising retreat into an alternative reality.
He gave Esme a nod.
‘And . . . action,’ she said.
The scene direction described Gus walking into Molly’s warehouse to find her half buried in a giant cardboard box, searching for a particular bikini. Gus had a full view of her backside swaying as she dived deeper into the box. Finn ogled her, smiling like a cocky sportsman who’s just taken out the championship. ‘Well, they told me to expect a warm welcome,’ he said in a thick southern drawl. ‘But this beats all my expectations.’
Molly stood up abruptly and spun around, flustered. A thick strand of hair was in her mouth and a bikini top was resting on her head. ‘Who the hell are you?’
Though Esme delivered the line, Finn heard Molly only.
He chuckled. ‘Well, we may be in Texas, darling, but even us southern boys know that your bikini top is supposed to cover your bikini parts, not your head.’
‘What?’ Molly snapped.
Finn grimaced and pointed at the top of her head. ‘Probably not serving its purpose up there.’
Molly reached up and ripped the top down so ferociously that it dragged more hair across her face. ‘I’m calling security,’ she said.
And the inevitable box office trope continued for another three pages of dialogue. Finn improvised, Esme did her best impersonation of a 26-year-old Texan girl and the sparks between Gus and Molly lit up the little granny flat.
