“There’s less than ten lines for my character in the whole scene, Debbie.”

My sister thoroughly chewed the last bit of her sausage before swallowing, then followed that with a draught of orange juice. She stifled a burp before remarking, “That’s great. You can memorize that in your sleep—”

“That’s what I thought too until I checked with Juan. It’s not like a table reading, Debbie. It’s going to be filmed. The “audition” is really a screen test. In costume and everything!”

“Ooh, that sounds exciting. Your first appearance on celluloid. I wonder if they’ll allow you to have a copy. An mp4 file on a thumb drive—”

“You don’t understand, sis. The majority of the scene involves a lot of smoldering silence and…and kissing—”

“You’ve kissed a guy before.”

“Never!”

Debbie stared me down.

“Well…elementary school doesn’t count. Willie Dawson thought I was a girl because he saw me wearing your sailor blouse on the way to rehearsal for H.M.S. Pinafore in 4th grade.”

“Oh, come off it. What about Richie Morrow? You spent a whole summer coaching him last year. Betcha had some hot smooching sessions, you two—”

“A lady doesn’t tell.” I shook my head and pointed a finger at her. “Nothing like that ever happened.”

“So, do you know who’s in the scene with you?”

“Juan said it’s the lead actor. Some guy named Trent Foster—”

“Oh my frickin’ God! Trent Foster! I hate you, Evie! How does this keep happening?”

“What?”

“You’ve become a stud magnet! It’s not fair!”

“Who is Trent Foster?”

“Only the hottest triple threat entertainer in show business right now. He’s got a Grammy for his last album, a Golden Globe award for his last movie role – I can’t believe you’ve never seen Planet Raiders III: Pleiades One More Time --, and streams on Twitch—”

“Sounds like a busy boy.”

“And he’s sooo dreamy!”

“Maybe I can get them to use you as my stunt double so you can kiss him. I couldn’t care less—”

“Don’t even kid about that, Evie.”

“The screen test is on Wednesday. We’ve got all day today to rehearse the scene. You can read Trent’s lines—”

“Uh-uh. Otis and I are going to Riverside and check out the guided tour at the Citrus Park. He wrote a paper on orange groves in Southern California for his senior thesis. And they hand out free samples…”

“I guess I’ll just hug and kiss myself. Pretend it’s “dreamy” Trent Foster. Anyway, I thought you weren’t really into Otis. You’re spending a lot of time together.”

“He’s goofy and all…but he’s sweet and sort-of cute. And, most importantly, you’re not interested in him in the least.”

“So, Chuck tells me you’ll be out of the office all day on Wednesday. Something about a screen test at GlobalNet Studios.”

I was on my way to the ladies’ room when Mei Ling sauntered by. She had apparently just exited Chuck’s office.

“Yes, it’ll probably end up leading to nothing much at all. I mean, I’m not an actor. Just doing it to help out a friend who’s trying to become an agent—”

“Oh, your boyfriend…uh…Juan, right?”

“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re not dating. I met him in a dog park. It’s a long story…”

“Well, break a leg, as they say in show business.”

I was about to turn the door lever when Mei Ling muttered loud enough for me to hear, “And I mean, break a leg. Two while you’re at it.”

“I think it went really well. They were really impressed with your knowledge of the history of semi-pro rugby in Southern California. I had no idea Boris Karloff was a seminal figure in establishing rugby in Los Angeles.”

We were halfway on our return trip to Los Angeles from San Diego. The traffic on I-5 was sparse on this Tuesday afternoon and we’d probably make it back to the office before 4PM. Our sales manager, Buzz Feiten, was at the wheel. A 30-year veteran of the sports apparel business, Buzz had worked for Nike, Adidas, Reebok, you name it. Every sports organization up and down the California coast was on a first name basis with him.

We had just made a sales call at Major League Rugby’s newest franchise in San Diego. The one-hour presentation, with supplemental slides especially prepared for the meeting, was a smashing success. I called Chuck immediately afterwards and relayed the good feelings. Buzz was already working on arranging a sales call at Major League Rugby’s national headquarters in Dallas, Texas.

“I had no idea either until I looked it up on the internet. But, you know, a lot of British, Australian., and even American celebrities are huge rugby fans. Like Daniel Craig, Russell Crowe, Samuel L. Jackson, Matt Damon, The Rock…did you know Taylor Swift too?”

There was an interregnum of silence as we passed through San Clemente and Dana Point, punctuated by bent notes on guitar and growling vocals broadcast over Buzz’s favorite blues channel on Sirius-XM. I went through the texts on my phone, including Juan’s reminder that he’d pick me up early tomorrow morning at 8 so I could go through costume and makeup before the actual screen test at 11AM. I felt pretty sure I’d memorized my lines. The issue was how I’d make it through the lip locking with “dreamy” Trent. The phlegm started to build up in my mouth.

“So, may I ask a personal question? If you don’t answer, I won’t bring it up again. It’s just that some people don’t have an issue with an old duffer being nosey, while others take exception (long pause) Are you a lesbian?”

“That’s pretty personal, Buzz. Before I answer…what makes you think I am?”

“Well, that outfit you’re wearing. It’s not your typical Ann Taylor business suit. It sort of makes a statement if I’m reading it right.”

“Oh, this old thing? No, Buzz, I’m not making any kind of statement. It’s something my sister picked out for me. You know, Debbie, from HR? She’s the fashion maven in the family. I’d just as soon wear sweats and a baseball cap—”

“The same with me, ha ha. Well, I’m totally ignorant when it comes to women’s fashions. I’m not too concerned with what they have on. More interested in what they take off—”

“Buzz, this conversation is veering off into a troubling detour. Maybe we should just listen to the radio and keep our eyes on the road, eh?”

“Sorry, Evie. You’re not going to report me, are you?”

“No, Buzz, no harm, no foul. Let’s just put this all behind us, o.k.?”

“Sure, sure.” He turned the radio up and started to tap his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat.

Peg Somersby’s smiling face greeted me as Juan led me to the Wardrobe Department of GolbalNet Studios. We hugged and Peg gave out a low whistle.

“Looking good, Evie. You’ve done something with your hair? And nice job with the makeup. I can see I’ll need to do very little to make you screen ready.”

“Thank you, Peg. It’s a steep learning curve trying to look like a girl—”

“What does that mean, Evie?” asked Juan as he wandered through the room, answering texts on his phone.

“Juan, dear, why don’t you leave us ladies to our own devices. There is such a thing as a lady’s modesty, even in this day and age.”

“Oh, well, sorry. I’ll go and see if Alastair has gotten in yet. I’ll see you later, Evie.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

“Have a seat, Evie. There’s something I noticed last time you were here that I need to take care of.”

“Umm, what’s that?”

“Your ears aren’t pierced—”

“So?”

“You can wear a wider variety of earrings, like hoops and the pretty dangly ones that sway when you move your head in a sultry manner. Clip Ons will tend to soften your lobes due to the constant pressure and they’ll lose their structure and elasticity.”

“That makes sense but I’m not a big fan of pain.”

Peg ripped open a bag of cotton balls and applied some isopropyl alcohol to one ball. She dabbed most of my ears, especially the lobes, with the cotton ball.

“This is to disinfect your lobes. Don’t want any bacteria getting into the holes in your lobes.”

“That’ll make it spic and span but it’ll still hurt like hell—”

“When the alcohol dries, I’m going to put this little ice pack on your earlobe.” She showed me the tiny 3” by 3” packets. “You leave it on for 5 minutes. You won’t feel a thing after that. We’ll do one ear at a time. Meanwhile, we can sit and talk. Any nerves, honey?”
“I’ve got my lines memorized but that’s not the part that makes me nervous.”

“Hold that against your ear, sweetie. So what part makes you nervous?”

“The kissing part.”

“You’re so pretty. I’m sure you’ve done your fair share of kissing and being kissed.”

“I’ve never kissed a boy! You have to remember, Peg, this…this girl thing is something very recent for me. I don’t think I’m going to like being kissed by Trent Foster.”

“You’d be one of the very few girls who wouldn’t.”

“That’s the thing, Peg. I’m not a girl.”

Peg took the ice pack away and brought a disposable piercing gun into view, already loaded with an ear stud.

“This’ll take a second. Don’t flinch. Close your eyes if you want, silly girl.” She squeezed the gun and the stud was snugly in place. “See, that wasn’t bad at all, was it?”

“No. I didn’t feel anything. But it’ll probably hurt like the devil for days when the ice wears off.”

“It takes about six weeks to fully heal but if you clean the area two or three times a day, you’ll be able to then swap your ear studs out for whatever pretty earrings you want.”

Peg then placed an ice pack on my other earlobe, cupping my hand over it.

“Now, girl, back to your issue with kissing Trent Foster. Are you gay?”

“Gay as in attracted to men or gay as in attracted to women?”

“Or you could be bi. Plenty of people are wired that way too.”

“I’m so confused, Peg. I mean, I’ve never been a woman before.”

“Methinks you’ve always been a girl. You just didn’t realize it until now.”

“My dad, my stepmom, and my sister tell me they’ve always regarded me as a girl. I was just born with the wrong equipment, so to speak.”

“Why don’t you give it a try and see how you feel? Trent doesn’t have cooties. If I were 30 years younger, I’d gladly trade places with you. Umm, that’s a delicious thought.”

“I guess you’re right. I’ll probably fail the screen test anyway. After today, my show biz career will just be a blip on the radar of my life. I mean I’ve never even thought about acting. Ipso facto, it’s not going to happen.”

“I don’t think that means what you think it does, dear.”

I stood on the soundstage, peering into the shadows where Daniel Dantley, Alastair Knowles, Juan Moskowitz and the production crew sat on director’s chairs or held their equipment at the ready. The camera operator was holding an Arri Alexa 35, the most expensive digital camera in the industry, list price over $75,000. There were boom microphones suspended above the set. A recording engineer sat with a sound mixer, fidgeting with his studio quality headphones. Cables and cords were strewn on the floor in serpentine patterns out of camera range.

The set was made to look like the interior of a lower middle-class home, faded colors and aging, out-of-date furnishings lending an air of decay to the room. There was an uneasy silence on the set until Trent Foster stepped into view, smiling as he waved to the figures in shadow. The description Debbie had given me was all too true: Trent looked like a cross between James Dean and Keanu Reeves. And the swagger to go with it.

“Trent, good of you to finally show up,” noted Dantley acerbically.

“Sorry, Dan. Traffic. Hey, Alastair, good to see you. Been a while.”

“A pleasure working with you again, Trent. Newport: The Series is going to be a big hit for GlobalNet. I have a sixth sense about these things.”

“Trent, this is Ms. Evie Rivers. The ingenue of the hour. I discovered her frolicking in the surf at Newport Beach. Now, how’s that for serendipity? The universe works in mysterious ways—”

Trent extended his hand and I shook it, remembering to keep my wrist limp…like a girl’s.

“Welcome to the industry, Evie. I’m sure we’ll work well together. Dan is a noted judge of talent. He likes to tell people he discovered me too.”

Lying through my teeth, I gushed, “It’s my pleasure entirely, Trent. I’m a big fan of yours. You were so good in Planet Raiders II!”

“You mean Planet Raiders III? II was the one with Reb Thompson, the has-been I replaced in III.”

“Oh, I meant III. I’m so bad with numbers.” With the back of my hand against my forehead, I intoned in a bad Southern accent, “I’ve always relied on the kindness of strangers.”

“She’s a natural,” Dantley said to no one in particular. Juan gave me a thumbs up.

“Dan, can we get on with it? I’ve got a lunch meeting across town.”

“Yes, Alastair, let me set the scene for…uh…the scene. Now, Trent is playing Dack Salinger, the MC of Newport: The Series. He’s the only son of real estate magnate Lucas Salinger. Dack is your typical unmotivated rich kid. He doesn’t work for his dad. He spends his days surfing and his nights driving around aimlessly, seeking cheap thrills and loose women. He’s the bad boy of Newport Beach, a—”

“Dan, please. We all know the series bible. Just confine yourself to the specific scene at hand.”

“Very well, Alastair. I do get carried away when I talk about this project. Sorry. As I was saying, Dack has learned that Margo Evans, played by Ms. Rivers, his high school sweetheart, and the most popular couple on campus, has returned to Newport after almost 10 years. Why she left to attend a college thousands of miles away has never been explained, not least to Dack, who’s been pining away for her ever since. He comes to Margo’s parents’ house in the poorer section of Newport in the hopes that she has returned for good and to rekindle their relationship. O.K. everyone ready? Roll sound. Roll camera. Speed. Slate it!”

The assistant camera called out the scene and take numbers, shouted “Mark!” and then clapped the sticks together.

“Action!” Dantley shouted as Trent moved forward toward me, seated on the couch.

“Margo! I came as soon as I heard from Frick that you’d come back to town—”

I stood up but kept my distance from Trent.

“Dack, I didn’t expect to see you. I’m only in town for a few days. For the funeral…”

“I’m sorry about your father, Margo. My dad told me about the accident on the construction site in Costa Mesa. If there’s anything my family or I can do to help out—”

“We’re not a charity case, Dack.”

“So, you’re not back for good?”

“After the funeral, I’m headed back to Philadelphia.”

We stood ten feet apart, staring at each other. Silent. Slowly, as the camera zoomed in on my face, tears started to run down my cheeks. My mask of stoicism crumbled. My arms went limp. I started sobbing. Trent rushed to me and put his arms around me, trying to comfort me.

“Margo, I can help. My dad can give Frick a job. There’s always a lot of maintenance work on his properties. It’s the least he can do for your family, after…after everything.”

“Frick is too proud, Dack. He hates your father. He’d never work for him.”

“What about us, Margo? I don’t know why you left and why you’ve never come back. Almost ten years. I kept asking Frick about you, told him to get you to answer my texts, emails…I even sent you an actual letter. Years ago now. You never did. Why?”

I held Trent tighter and buried my face in his shoulder, my sobbing subsided. But I didn’t answer him. Just held him tighter.

“Is there someone in Philadelphia?” I shook my head. He took my head in his hands and slowly drew my lips to his. We kissed long and tenderly.

“Cut!” shouted Dantley, jumping off his chair. “Bravo! You two were marvelous! You totally captured the emotional subtext of the scene. Alastair, was I right or was I right?”

I disentangled myself from Trent, after he gently removed his lips from mine. He kept his eyes trained on me. Finally, our arms separated. I felt light-headed. I must have stumbled because Trent moved to keep me from falling over.

“Are you o.k.?”

“I’m...I’m fine. There must be a wrinkle in the carpet. I’m a bit of a klutz, Trent.”

“That’s not what I heard. You coached baseball for The Titans. I read your press clippings online.”

“Evie, you’re going to be a star! You’re a force of nature. Trent, we’ve found your co-star.” Dantley gathered both of us in his arms and we group-hugged. Juan gave me another thumbs up.

“Evie, that was certainly quite a performance. We’re going to finalize our casting the week after the 4th of July. So I’ll be in touch with Juan. I’d say your chances are pretty good. Well, kiddies, I have to go. Dan, I’ll speak to you this afternoon. Bye, all.” He left the soundstage.

“Evie, I’d like to go and have a drink with you but I’m on a flight to San Francisco tonight and there’s a lot of packing I have to do. Let’s get together once you officially get the role…which is almost certain you will. You’re quite the thespian. It’ll be a joy to work with you. Dan, keep me in the loop on any developments. “Parting is such sweet sorrow. That I shall say good night till it be morrow.” He doffed his nonexistent hat and left by the side door.

“Hamlet?”

“Search me,” Juan replied. “He’s one goofy guy, that dude.”

“Maybe acting is something I’d like to pursue, after all. There was a moment in that scene where Trent and I connected on an almost cosmic level.”

“Yeah, I saw him sneak in some tongue on that kiss.”

“You’ve been staring blankly at the wall for an hour. I was afraid your eyes might roll back in your head and you’d lose consciousness—”

“Did you say something, Debbie?”

“You know, you’ve been really quiet about the screen test. It was like pulling teeth to get any details about it from you. I gather it went really well. But most of what happened I got from Juan. There’s nothing wrong with your appetite. You scarfed that pizza in three easy bites. So you’re not coming down with anything.” Debbie felt my forehead. She still had some pizza sauce on her hand. I hardly noticed. “What’s bugging you, Evie?”

“I think I’m in love.”

“With Chuck? Juan? Richie Morrow?”

“No, silly, Trent. Trent Foster. He’s simply…wonderful.”

“Oy vey.”