shouted.
If most of the actors up to this point had been at least adequate, Scarlett was now seeing what ‘not adequate’ looked like.
Danielle was unable to deliver a line with anything that resembled conviction.
She was inflecting the lines with odd emotions, overwrought at times. It was confusing—so confusing that Barbara even lost her place twice and they had to start over.
Hunter let them go through the entire scene, which he’d rarely done all day.
Scarlett supposed that being a friend had its perks, because she was absolutely certain that Danielle would have been kicked out of the room after one or two lines if she’d been anybody else.
Finally, mercifully, it was over.
“That was really great,” Hunter said, standing up.
“Oh, thank you!” Danielle cried, like she’d just received an Academy Award.
“Thank you so much. Everyone.” She blew three or four kisses. “Bye, everyone. I can’t wait to see you all when we start shooting.”
And then she and her entourage floated out of the room.
When they were gone, everyone just stared at each other.
“I apologize for that,” Kallie said.
“Nothing wrong with some comic relief,” Barbara said.
Bryson was silent. He picked at his food while the others made lighthearted conversation.
“Okay,” Hunter said. “Let’s get through the rest of the day. We’ve got another twenty or thirty people to see.”
Suddenly, Scarlett remembered Lydia.
“Oh my goodness,” she said. “I just remembered. I should step out really quickly.”
“Sure, no problem,” Hunter said.
“I’ll be right back.” She got up and headed into the waiting room. As she’d feared, there were only actresses out there. Nobody else was waiting—Lydia was gone.
Scarlett came back and sat down, her heart felt as if it was in her throat. She’d forgotten about Lydia in all the madness and mayhem of these auditions, and she knew that this was going to be a costly mistake.
On top of that, Bryson wasn’t even acknowledging her existence.
Things were steadily falling apart and Scarlett truly had no idea how to fix any of it. She wasn’t even certain why Bryson was upset with her, and he didn’t seem too interested in explaining himself at the moment.
She managed to get through the rest of the auditions, trying her best to pay attention to each actress that came in. It was hard to care, but knowing how important this moment likely was for each woman, Scarlett did her best to show interest and care about every performance.
Hunter continued to basically run the auditions, since Bryson had gone silent. A few times, Hunter tried to ask him a question and Bryson would mumble some generic response.
Finally, the last person came in and left. Everyone was exhausted—Scarlett could see it on everyone’s faces, and she imagined her face was no better.
“So,” Hunter said, “were there any standouts for you guys?”
“Clearly, your friend Danielle was a homerun,” Barbara said drily.
This got a big laugh out of everyone—except for Bryson, who simply sat there and looked at the floor, waiting for the ruckus to die down.
“Bryson?” Kallie asked. “Was there someone who stood out to you?”
“There were three women who all brought something different to the table,” he replied. Then he took three photos out of the stack in front of him. “These three were my favorites,” he said, passing them to Scarlett.
One of them was Jennifer Willis, who’d been Scarlett’s clear choice. The other two were women who she also had liked, but not nearly as much.
As Scarlett passed the photos down to the others, people began talking all at once.
Other names and pictures were bandied about, traded back and forth. After a few minutes, it was clear that everyone had loved Jennifer Willis, but there was another actress that Bryson, Kallie and Barbara had also liked a great deal.
They began discussing pros and cons. The other actress was slightly more well known, and
If most of the actors up to this point had been at least adequate, Scarlett was now seeing what ‘not adequate’ looked like.
Danielle was unable to deliver a line with anything that resembled conviction.
She was inflecting the lines with odd emotions, overwrought at times. It was confusing—so confusing that Barbara even lost her place twice and they had to start over.
Hunter let them go through the entire scene, which he’d rarely done all day.
Scarlett supposed that being a friend had its perks, because she was absolutely certain that Danielle would have been kicked out of the room after one or two lines if she’d been anybody else.
Finally, mercifully, it was over.
“That was really great,” Hunter said, standing up.
“Oh, thank you!” Danielle cried, like she’d just received an Academy Award.
“Thank you so much. Everyone.” She blew three or four kisses. “Bye, everyone. I can’t wait to see you all when we start shooting.”
And then she and her entourage floated out of the room.
When they were gone, everyone just stared at each other.
“I apologize for that,” Kallie said.
“Nothing wrong with some comic relief,” Barbara said.
Bryson was silent. He picked at his food while the others made lighthearted conversation.
“Okay,” Hunter said. “Let’s get through the rest of the day. We’ve got another twenty or thirty people to see.”
Suddenly, Scarlett remembered Lydia.
“Oh my goodness,” she said. “I just remembered. I should step out really quickly.”
“Sure, no problem,” Hunter said.
“I’ll be right back.” She got up and headed into the waiting room. As she’d feared, there were only actresses out there. Nobody else was waiting—Lydia was gone.
Scarlett came back and sat down, her heart felt as if it was in her throat. She’d forgotten about Lydia in all the madness and mayhem of these auditions, and she knew that this was going to be a costly mistake.
On top of that, Bryson wasn’t even acknowledging her existence.
Things were steadily falling apart and Scarlett truly had no idea how to fix any of it. She wasn’t even certain why Bryson was upset with her, and he didn’t seem too interested in explaining himself at the moment.
She managed to get through the rest of the auditions, trying her best to pay attention to each actress that came in. It was hard to care, but knowing how important this moment likely was for each woman, Scarlett did her best to show interest and care about every performance.
Hunter continued to basically run the auditions, since Bryson had gone silent. A few times, Hunter tried to ask him a question and Bryson would mumble some generic response.
Finally, the last person came in and left. Everyone was exhausted—Scarlett could see it on everyone’s faces, and she imagined her face was no better.
“So,” Hunter said, “were there any standouts for you guys?”
“Clearly, your friend Danielle was a homerun,” Barbara said drily.
This got a big laugh out of everyone—except for Bryson, who simply sat there and looked at the floor, waiting for the ruckus to die down.
“Bryson?” Kallie asked. “Was there someone who stood out to you?”
“There were three women who all brought something different to the table,” he replied. Then he took three photos out of the stack in front of him. “These three were my favorites,” he said, passing them to Scarlett.
One of them was Jennifer Willis, who’d been Scarlett’s clear choice. The other two were women who she also had liked, but not nearly as much.
As Scarlett passed the photos down to the others, people began talking all at once.
Other names and pictures were bandied about, traded back and forth. After a few minutes, it was clear that everyone had loved Jennifer Willis, but there was another actress that Bryson, Kallie and Barbara had also liked a great deal.
They began discussing pros and cons. The other actress was slightly more well known, and
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