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CONNECTING OBSESSIONS                     | 19                                             

Rachel shifted her position slightly, only to send her props bag crashing on to the floor. She looked around apologetically, but no one seemed to have noticed, so she bent to retrieve it and set it beside her again. She brought the bag, containing a number of potentially useful items, to all her auditions, once she experienced the first few. Just in case.

She took a deep breath to try to collect her thoughts and concentrated on the sides.

Despite having been one of the first girls to arrive, she was almost the last to be auditioned. She approached another makeshift desk occupied by the casting director and his assistant and handed over the form giving her particulars together with details of any previous acting experience—in her case a small appearance in a TV ad some months back as well as parts in productions put on by the acting workshop she attended for two years before coming to Hollywood.

Rachel noticed the casting director eyeing her with undisguised approval. Nothing unusual; she soon learned to ignore the feeling she often experienced at auditions. One of being in a cattle market!

His assistant checked the information on Rachel’s form. “What year’s this?” she asked, pointing to Rachel’s date of birth where the ink had smudged a little. “Ninety-eight?”

“Sorry, no. Nineteen ninety. I’m twenty-one: twenty-two come November.”

“You have no agent?”

“Not at the moment—though I’m looking.” Which was true, but good agents were darned near impossible to find these days.

The assistant nodded and then asked Rachel to act out the short scene covered by her sides, with a nondescript young man.

When they finished, the casting director called her over. “Ok—err,” he checked her form, “Ms Starr. We’ve drawn up a shortlist, and I’m pleased to say you’re on it.”

Hey, that was a first. Rachel gave him a broad smile. “Cool. Thanks.” “I’d like to see you again Friday evening, eight o’clock. That all right?” It wasn’t; Rachel already had plans for Friday. “Sure,” she responded. She’d have to change them.

Then she returned to work, arriving back at the bar at six thirty.

* * *

So far, so good. It had all gone as expected. Rachel attended the audition, though she seemed furtive at times.

Odd. Unless she’d seen him!