The Disappearing Act(13)

I smile. “I am. New Yorker?”

She chuckles. “Yep.”

“How are you finding it out here?” I ask.

“LA?” Her eyebrows crease momentarily before she answers wryly. “Good days and bad days, you know.”

“Yeah, I think I’m getting that. But it’s only my second day so…”

“Newbie.” She grins and grabs my wrist, in mock-solidarity, with her cigarette hand. I can feel the warmth of her cigarette tip close to the skin of my forearm as she continues, suddenly intrigued by me. “First time in LA? Oh my God. Jesus, how’s it all going?”

Her grip releases as she takes another drag and I look down at my unscathed arm. I realize I haven’t been touched by another human being since that casting director yesterday. I miss human contact. I had forgotten how, even toward the end of our relationship, George and I had been pretty tactile with each other. Close on the sofa, legs entwined and arm about my shoulders. I force the thoughts away.

“Yeah, it’s my first time. So far so good. How many times for you?”

She flashes me a mega-watt smile then rolls her eyes in answer to my question. “God knows, I’ve been out pretty much every year since I was a kid. Think I’ve got it cracked now, though.” She barks a laugh. I like my new friend. And I could definitely use a new friend out here. She’s a lot tougher than her compact frame would suggest. And that confidence. I bet she doesn’t take shit from her boyfriends. I bet people don’t just leave her without a word.

“Sorry, I’m Mia, by the way,” I say extending my hand.

She shakes it with another tinkle of bracelet. “I’m Emily.” She grins. “You were at the CBS thing yesterday too, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, surprised. I hadn’t seen anyone else in the waiting room.

“Yeah.” She chuckles. “I saw you in the lobby. Thought we’d might end up going for the same stuff. I get the feeling we’ll end up seeing a lot of each other this trip.” I study her features now with fresh eyes. She’s right, we are similar. I suppose all the Roses here are. But now that she’s pointed it out, I realize that must be the reason I thought she looked so familiar—because she is. She looks like a slightly more streetwise version of me. It’s inevitable we’ll see each other around at auditions; it’s a small industry. “Where you staying?” she continues.

“Downtown, you?”

“Oh, it’s a…” She pauses a moment, taking another drag on her cigarette. “I just picked an Airbnb as close to the 101 as I could find. Not my first rodeo,” she says, raising her well-groomed eyebrows for effect. I’ve only been here forty-eight hours but already I know the 101 gets you everywhere.

“Any LA tips?” I ask.

“Yeah, avoid rush hour!” She puffs, a smirk creasing her features. “But I’m guessing you’ve heard that one. Oh, and don’t get too involved with anything. Things tend to turn on a dime out here. It’s pretty much a mud fight.”

Along the gangway the casting office door swings open and the most recent Rose strides away briskly. One down, another two to go. When I look back at Emily she is glancing at her watch, troubled. She’s worried about the time too.

“You got another audition after this one?” I ask.

She looks up at me, momentarily surprised by my question.

“What? Oh no. Just a video call.” She frowns, seemingly unsettled by the thought. She catches my concerned look and recovers quickly. “No, it’s just, my parking is almost up.” She smirks and takes the final drag on her cigarette before stubbing it out on a planter pot. “You got something after?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one over in Burbank.”

“At Warner Bros.?”

“Yeah.”

“Right, I heard about that one,” she answers but I can tell she’s not listening anymore. Something really is bothering her. The casting office door bangs open again and another Rose exits.

Well, that was quick.

Emily and I share a glance as the latest Rose disappears down the stairs.

“Uh-oh,” Emily mutters and checks her watch again. “That can’t have gone well.”

A casting director pops her head out around the door.

“Who’s next? Ready?” she trills before disappearing back inside.

“Oh shit,” Emily groans, still eyeing her watch. “Do you wanna go in first? I am actually going to have to top up my parking or I’m going get a ticket. I’ll run and do it now and you can take my place, okay?”

The suggestion knocks me off center for a second. I’d almost forgotten I was even here for a casting. I can’t go in next; I can’t even remember what we’re supposed to be auditioning for. I’m not ready. My mind whirs as I try to work out how the hell I can politely decline and come up with—“No, no, it’s fine. You go first. I can keep an eye out for parking attendants.” As soon as I say it, I know we both know I have no intention of doing so. I change tack. “I’m sure the car will be fine. Even if the meter’s run out they won’t give you a ticket straightaway. Go on in, it’ll be fine.” I wonder if it’s completely obvious that I couldn’t care less about her car, I just don’t want to go in next.