One More Time(2)

And then, as if on cue, we hear the first phone ring of class.

Shoot me.

This time the phone keeps ringing. Unbelievable.

I look around, hoping the scowl on my face doesn’t appear as obvious as it feels. But as I do, I see thirty-nine faces scowling back at me. (Forty if you count Jake.)

And then it hits me--it’s my phone.

My first instinct is to leap into the air like the final scene of The Breakfast Club, but all eyes are literally on me. I play it cool, making a faux-apologetic face as I grab my mat and bolt for the exit. Grinning at Jake as I walk out, I’m gratified to see him wink back. Looks like this might have bought me a little longer in his universe.

“Hello!” I say. If this is a sales call, I will track them down and murder them.

“Jenna Stahl? I have Carrie Bonnaview for you.”

“Oh, my agent?” I say out loud. The receptionists sure don’t look like they care, but I do. I care that someone in this building knows I’m worth a Monday-morning call. And the women who collect my registration fees are as good as any. “Sure. Put her through,” I say.

I cradle my phone under my neck so my hands are free. My palms are sweaty and I rub them down my thighs. I’ve been reduced to a terrified newbie. This call means everything to me. Not only is my career hinging on a role, and soon, my savings account is too. I roll up my yoga mat in the lobby and leave the studio as if to say, this call is so important that it will take up the entire rest of class. Really, it’s so no one hears my voice quaver, or see how my hands shake as I wait to hear if I’ve just booked a commercial, or a pilot.

“Jenna? Hello, Jenna?” Carrie says as I walk toward my car.

I grab the phone again with my hand, nearly dropping it as I maneuver. “Yes! Hi! Omigod hi!”

“Let me guess,” she says, “You’re at Model Body?”

“It’s Monday morning. Where else would I be?”

“Well your omigod is valid. I have huge news. You’re being offered a part in a movie.”

“Define a part. Not to be ungrateful, but we’ve been down this road before.” Unfortunately, I know I have a tendency to be cast as the girl in the movie that seduces the male lead for one scene and then disappears, the main purpose of my character to give every male in the audience a hard-on. Nine times out of ten, this seduction happens while my character is wearing a very low cut top, or bikini.

“This is not a boob part, Jenna. This is a lead. The lead in an incredibly charming, brilliantly written rom-com called Reason To Love. And it gets better. It’s a Polly Kemper film.”

My heart jumps, once, before exploding into a million shards of so much excitement and gratitude. I can’t believe I’m still holding the phone.

I worship Polly Kemper, and I am not alone. She is an inspiration and an icon. We’re the same age, but instead of languishing in exercise class, she’s been busy directing not one but two of the top-grossing romantic comedies of the past five years. She’s known for writing strong but lovable women and – most importantly - she has a track record for breaking out new talent.

I feel something, and realize that I am doing a tiny jig in the parking lot. Anyone inside Model Body can see how dorky I’m being, but I don’t even care. I have been offered a part in my dream movie. It is finally coming together. My patience is paying off. I’ll be able to afford another four years in LA, even if I don’t book a single other role.

“Yes, yes, yes!” I scream like that famous scene from When Harry Met Sally. “Tell them I’ll do it!”

“Great…” There’s hesitation in her voice.

“What?” I ask, my breaths coming rapid and shallow.

“There’s a catch.”

“What? Low pay? Rough shooting schedule? Do I have to wear some metal bathing suit ala Princess Leia or something? Honestly Carrie, I don’t care. I need this job.”

“Your co-star is Tanner James,” she says matter-of-factly.

My heart-sparkles dim, then go out. The pieces come back together and land directly in the bottom of my stomach with a miserable, painful thud.

Tanner James. Tanner fucking James.

The second reason my life changed, and the one I wish I could forget. Most days, I can. Most nights, I can’t stop remembering. One thing’s for sure—I’d rather give up my acting dreams forever than appear in a single scene with the man who broke my heart.

Broke me.

Of all the actors in the entire world, why did it have to be him?

“Jenna? Hello? Are you listening to me?” Carrie says. “I know this is hard to hear, but they want you because of the idea of you and Tanner. A Janner reunion will play huge at the box office, especially since it’s been ten years since you two broke up. You two have high nostalgia value. You’re Justin and Britney. Ben and Jen--No! Jen and Brad. Just suffer through this and Hollywood will kneel at your feet, I promise… Jenna? Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” I say, blinking back tears. I don’t think I’ve ever suffered a bigger disappointment. Well—just that once. And he’s the reason this is ruined, too. “I’m here. Tell Polly Kemper that I’m very sorry, but I can’t accept the role.”

“Wait! Please don’t make a decision now. Let’s talk this out. Come over to my office and we’ll pow-wow. I’ll have my assistant order food. Or drinks. Or a therapist. Anything you need, honey.”