Call the Shots (Swim the Fly #3)(41)

Helen leans over and whispers, “Who’s that?”

I stare at him, slack jawed. “My drama teacher.” Only I forget to whisper.

“Jerome Nestman,” Mr. Nestman says. “Professional actor and Bergby-nominated director of the Peebles Puppet Theater in the Park. Yes, and drama teacher.” He says the last bit with reluctance. “I have thirty years of acting experience, and I’ve been in over a hundred local TV commercials. I know what you’re thinking: why does someone of my caliber want to be in this movie?” He places his hand on his chest. “Well, because someone like me will raise the production to an entirely new level. Let me show you how the pros do it.”

Mr. Nestman dives right in to Jack’s lines without even waiting for Helen to read Stacy’s intro line. He flounces and leaps around the room, emoting like crazy, his arms gesturing wildly like he’s fending off a snowball attack.

“I thank you,” Mr. Nestman declares when he’s finished, bowing with a hand flourish. I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off with a raised palm. “Please. No praise. Save it for the others. Just let me know what part I’ll be playing when you’ve got it all sorted out.”

With that, he twirls around dramatically and exits.

“Finally,” Evelyn declares. “Somebody who can actually act. I was getting worried we weren’t going to find anyone good today.”

Coop and Matt shoot me a pair of what-the-f*ck looks. I try to send them a look that says, See? See what I was saying about her being a total nutjob?

Coop calls out to Nick, who’s manning the kitchen/waiting room. “Send in the next one!”

Another hour passes and more actors audition. There are guys with too much cologne and girls with too much makeup. There’s Douchebag Dan, who’s even more of a ham than Mr. Nestman. There’s Rectal Ryan, reciting a monologue instead of our audition scene. There’s Hand Grenade Hunter, who turns out to be as good as I suspected he’d be.

And then there’s Voluptuous Victoria, wearing a top cut so low that her volcanoes nearly spill out as she bounds into the room.

“What does this one think she’s auditioning for?” Evelyn hisses in my ear. “A cathouse?”

“I know, right?” I say out of the corner of my mouth.

I purposefully avert my eyes — forcing myself to look anywhere but at Victoria’s gazongas — as she giggles and bobbles her way through the audition.

“Floozy much?” Evelyn blurts when Victoria finally leaves.

“Horrible,” I say, shaking my head in disgust. “Cross her off the list.”

“Some girls are so shameless.” Evelyn shivers like she couldn’t be more repulsed. “I’m just glad I have a boyfriend who isn’t impressed by things like that.” Her eyes zero in on Matt and Coop. “Some people can’t help themselves, I suppose, but it does reveal a person’s character, don’t you think? Anyway,” Evelyn slaps her thighs and stands. “I’ve got to go wee. I’ll be back in a jiffy, my gallant.” And with that, she pinches my cheek and exits the room.

Evelyn’s not gone two seconds when Helen backhands Coop in the chest. “What the hell were you staring at, mister?”

“Nobthings,” Coop says, blinking. “Nothing. I wasn’t staring at anything.” He reaches out, grabs his empty diet shake, and pretends to take a sip, as if busying himself will make this all go away.

Helen crosses her arms. “You were gawking at her boobs.”

“I was not,” Coop insists.

“You were watching her pretty damn closely,” Helen accuses.

“I’m watching everyone closely, so I can figure out who’s the breast — best actor.”

“You’re lying.” Helen’s mouth is tight. “You know how I feel about lying.”

“I’m not . . . I was just . . .” He sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Okay, fine. I was looking at them. But how could I not? They were jiggling. Like a couple of Jell-O molds. It was hypnotizing. I can’t be blamed for that. Beside, they make up like one-quarter of her entire body, so logic dictates that twenty-five percent of the time I’d have to be staring at her wobblers.”

“Staring. Exactly,” Helen says. “There’s a big difference between staring and noticing.”

Valerie turns to Matt. “You were staring too, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Matt says, not missing a beat. “But only because I felt sorry for her. I can’t imagine that’s comfortable. She must have a really bad back. Poor girl.”

“Goddamn it,” Coop grumbles. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Consider yourself on probation, mister,” Helen says. “I may or may not be speaking to you tomorrow.”

“Okey-dokey.” Evelyn springs back into the family room. “The natives are getting restless out there. Let’s finish this up.”


By the time five o’clock rolls around, I’ve got a screaming migraine. I’m just about to suggest we call it a day when I sense a shift in the air. It’s like, all of a sudden, there’s this warm, wonderful psychic ripple in the fabric of the universe or something.

My headache instantly eases, the tension in my shoulders subsiding. And when I turn around, I’m not at all surprised to see Leyna stepping into the room.