As I walked out of the audition room, I noticed that everyone else had left, leaving just the sexy redhead receptionist behind, the same one who was currently avoiding looking at me.
"Hey, Paige!" I greeted her, stopping in front of her desk. When she didn't even look up, I added, "Still mad at me, huh? Well, I just wanted to tell you that I lost the role, so that I won't be coming here anymore."
That did the trick of shocking her enough that she forgot she was mad at me.
"What do you mean you lost the role?" she asked incredulously, finally meeting my eyes. "It's my job to tell you when you don't get a role, not the other way around."
I shrugged. "Eh, I rejected it, so I may as well have lost it, right?"
She blinked, surprised by my admission. "Why?"
I heaved a deep sigh, the kind that came from somewhere buried, and quickly explained what had happened inside the audition room. She listened patiently, her expression gradually shifting from annoyed to concerned, before finally reaching out and grabbing my hand.
"Noah, if you really want to work in this industry, you'll have to ignore little things like that. This is nothing. There are guys out there who will do anything for an opportunity like that. By anything, I mean anything. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Say the word, and I'll personally go and request them to reconsider you. It's still not too late."
I shook my head. "I'm not that kind of guy. I have strict morals, and this is one thing I won't budge on."
A silence fell between us like a curtain, heavy and final. We'd reached a stalemate with both of us realizing we weren't going anywhere with this argument. And just like that, the conversation shifted back to the real reason Paige had been ignoring me.
"You're an asshole," she said, voice low and tense. "My friends made fun of me for sleeping with a barely legal boy. I told them you're not like that. That you're mature. And then you went and proved them right. You said you'd call, didn't you? And the only call I got was a professional one that said you had changed phone numbers."
I hesitated, then sighed loudly. "My dad kicked me out of the house."
Paige looked ready to argue more, but the moment the words left my mouth, her lips parted and then closed again, her face softening.
"What?"
"He and I got into an argument. It got very heated, and the next thing I knew, he kicked me out. I didn't call you because I knew you expected me to take you for a second date, but... I can't afford it right now."
"Where are you staying?" she asked, suddenly worried.
"In a motel," I replied. "Don't worry, though, I'll look for an apartment now that I know for sure I'm not getting this role. I'll get another job that'll cover my expenses until I go to college."
As great a job as modeling was, it's not as certain as I would like it to be, and the pay is also very irregular.
Paige looked devastated, the kind of hurt that came not just from guilt, but from genuine concern. She held my hand again, her fingers trembling slightly.
"I'm so sorry, Noah. I didn't know."
I didn't say anything. I couldn't stand the look of sympathy in her eyes. I didn't want anyone's pity, especially not hers. But this was the most effective way to tell her that it was over between us. And when she didn't say even after a few moments that we could still go on a date on her dime, I knew for sure that it was over.
"And you still rejected the role!" a man called out behind me, incredulity dripping from his voice.
I turned around to come face-to-face with Randal Kleiser, the director of The Blue Lagoon. Standing just behind him was Vic Ramos, the casting director, and Paige's boss. The moment Paige saw Vic, she quickly let go of my hand, as if burned by the contact.
"I'm sorry," Randal said, offering an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but you two weren't exactly being quiet."
"That's fine," I waved him off, trying to keep my cool.
"No, it's not," Randal insisted, stepping closer, his eyes intense. "I love you for this role. I'll do anything to convince you to say yes. I'll even convince Columbia Pictures of the same. You clearly need the money they'll offer."
I was stunned. For a director to say something like that to me, an unknown actor, was huge. Right then and there, if I said yes, all my money problems would vanish.
"Anything you say?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Then cast Julie opposite me. Do that, and I'll agree to do this."
Randal let out a heavy sigh. "Anything but that. I don't have a say in casting the actress; the studio does. I can cast you, but not her."
"Why?" I asked bluntly. "From what I saw, despite her lack of experience, she was the best out of the four who auditioned. I worked with her very easily."
"You had great chemistry with her," Randal admitted, nodding slowly.
"Then I ask you again, why was she rejected?"
Randal hesitated, caught in a silent tug-of-war with himself. It was clear he knew the answer, but wasn't sure if he should say it aloud.
When the silence stretched too long, I said firmly, "You know my condition for doing the film, and I won't compromise on this. Do with it as you please."
Without waiting for a response, I turned back to Paige, gave her a swift nod, and walked away, my footsteps echoing down the now-empty corridor.
(Break)
(Flashback)
Randal couldn't believe what he was seeing.
Noah Hunter and Julie Anne Smith stood face to face, barely inches apart, identical grins tugging at their lips. Then they kissed, and the room transformed. It was like watching the climax of an epic romance, the kind that echoes through time. Their chemistry didn't just sizzle, it detonated. If left alone too long, they might've spontaneously invented nuclear fusion. Even a blind man would believe they were in love.
But it wasn't just chemistry. The way they read lines off each other was flawless. Intuitive. Electric. Exactly what Randal had been searching for.
Two complete unknowns were outshining every other contender, including an actual Oscar winner. It was absurd. And brilliant.
"Thank you for that performance," Samuel said, cutting in before Randal could speak. "Noah, why don't you wait outside while we talk to Julie for a bit?"
Noah nodded and turned to Julie, giving her a playful wink before donning his bathrobe. Her face flushed as she followed his exit with hungry eyes, visibly reluctant to see him go.
"Julie?" Randal said, drawing her attention back. "You were amazing just now. Really. That was a great performance."
"Thank you," she said, ducking her head shyly. "I was nervous. This is my first real audition, so that means a lot coming from you." Then, in a quieter voice, she added, "Even if you don't pick me… You have to pick Noah. He's too good to pass up."
Randal grinned. "I think you're selling yourself short. You were just as good as him. In fact, I daresay—"
Samuel coughed, loud and deliberate, cutting Randal off mid-sentence. Then, smoothly and without missing a beat, he launched into corporate-speak. "We've got a few more girls auditioning tomorrow. Once we've seen everyone, we'll be in touch."
"Yeah, of course," Julie nodded. "Thanks for letting me audition so late in the process."
Then she left.
The moment the door clicked shut, Randal rounded on Samuel. "You just had to cut me off, didn't you?"
Samuel narrowed his eyes. "You were about to promise her the role."
"I was not," Randal shot back. "I was just going to say she was better than Noah."
"Same difference," Samuel retorted. "Say that, and then cast Noah but not her, and you'll have upper management breathing down your neck. I don't want that drama."
And that's when it clicked.
Julie Anne Smith hadn't even been scheduled for an audition originally. She was a last-minute addition, slotted in because one of her uncles pulled strings with someone high up in the management to get her the audition.
"Well, that won't be a problem," Randal said firmly. "Because I want to hire both Noah and Julie. They're perfect. Absolutely perfect."
Samuel glared at Randal, then gave a tight shake of his head. "You can't."
He didn't bother explaining further.
A subtle shift rippled through the room. The cameraman, Vic Ramos, and Randal's assistant all exchanged nervous glances, sensing the sharp edge of tension between the director and the producer.
Suddenly, Vic stood up. "I think you two need to talk this out." He forced a casual tone, but it was clear he wanted out of the blast zone. "Why don't the three of us step out for a minute? We're pretty much done anyway since this was the last audition of the day, right?"
He gave a discreet nod to the cameraman and the assistant, silently urging them toward the door. They followed him out without a word.
The room fell quiet.
"Care to share now?" Randal asked, folding his arms once they were alone.
Samuel exhaled deeply, as if the weight of the whole studio had settled on his chest. "Look, man… I don't want to be your enemy. My hands are tied. The two Franks are at it again, at each other's throats over control."
Randal's brow furrowed. He didn't need to ask who "the two Franks" were.
"Julie was recommended by Vincent," Samuel continued. "Price is pissed about it. And on top of that, if she's cast, she's refusing to sign a three-picture deal. So Price told me flat-out not to hire her."
Randal rubbed his forehead as a dull headache began to pulse behind his eyes.
Frank Vincent, the CEO and President of the parent company, and Frank Price, the CEO of Columbia Pictures' film division. A corporate power struggle was brewing right above his head.
"So what you're saying," Randal said after a pause, "is that we're not hiring her because of office politics."
"Yes," Samuel confirmed. "That's exactly what I'm saying. Price would lose it if we went through with it. And sure, it might not matter much to you since you're not on Columbia's full-time payroll, but I am. So no. We're not hiring her. That's final."
(Flashback End)
(Break)
I posed in a pair of jeans with my flannel shirt open, my six-pack abs on full display. My hair was pulled back into my usual man-bun. Just my luck that I landed this photoshoot two days after turning down The Blue Lagoon. Shoots like this didn't come often.
"Let's pause for a second," Jordan called out, then turned to the lighting guy beside him. "Can you give me a moment with Noah?"
The guy nodded and stepped back.
Jordan looked at me with a frown. "What happened to you, Noah? You were such a natural last time. Why are you so… expressive now? This isn't a movie. It's a print ad for fuck's sake. Remember?"
I frowned, absorbing the critique. Had my acting lessons with Michelle changed me that much? Was it that obvious in my modeling?
"Try to keep a calm, blank face," he said. "You know, that snooty high-fashion kind? Like you're bored and expensive."
I closed my eyes, took a breath, and let my face settle.
"Yes!" Jordan called out. "That's exactly what I want!"
The rest of the shoot went smoothly. After an hour, everyone had packed up and left, leaving just the two of us in the studio. Jordan stayed because he lived there. I stayed because I needed to ask him something important.
"Do you think you can get me more gigs?" I asked. "Or maybe a full-time job somewhere?"
Jordan didn't answer right away. He just studied me for a moment before saying, "Why? I thought you were too busy swimming for a proper job."
"It's nothing," I replied, trying to sound casual. "Just want to make a little extra cash before college."
He hummed thoughtfully, eyeing me with open skepticism. "Is that really the truth?"
I hesitated for just a second. "Of course it is."
Jordan shook his head slowly. "Your dad came by yesterday."
I stiffened.
"He accused me of 'preying on you,' said I was 'leading you astray' and a bunch of other dramatic crap. Demanded to see you. I told him to piss off. Told him you're an adult and can make your own decisions."
I closed my eyes, frustration prickling behind them. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you're just eighteen, Noah," Jordan said, emphasizing my age. "Don't make hasty decisions and alienate your family. I didn't say anything when you gave me your new number, but I was concerned when a motel employee answered your phone."
"I'm okay, Jordan," I insisted. "I just needed space. Especially after Dad kicked me out."
"He looked apologetic," Jordan offered cautiously.
"Was that before or after he accused you of grooming me?"
Jordan raised his hands in surrender. "I'm not saying you should go back. Just… talk to him. Once."
I shook my head. "Maybe I'll talk to him when I go to college. But not before."
"Fine," he said, giving in. "Don't talk to him. But please, don't stay in a motel. They're not safe. I've got a spare room here. You can use it." He nodded toward a door in the corner. "I own this place. I won't even ask for rent."
"Why not?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
"Because you're like a son to me," Jordan replied, his voice steady and sincere. "I don't have any family here. My wife passed away years ago, and my only daughter is in London with her husband. I feel responsible for you in a way since I launched your career. And I'd be happy to have you here."
I closed my eyes, trying to keep my emotions from spilling over.
On one side, there was my father, a man who raised me for eighteen years and still didn't see me as his own. On the other hand, there was Jordan. Were it anyone else offering me a place to stay, I'd have turned it down without thinking. But I'd known Jordan for years. I knew he didn't have ulterior motives.
"Okay," I said softly, just managing to keep my voice from breaking.
Jordan smiled. "Glad to hear that. Go get your stuff from the motel. I'll be right here when you get back."
(Break)
"What are you doing in L.A., Randal?" asked Frank Price, the studio head of Columbia, eyeing him expectantly. "I thought you were finalizing your cast from your home base in New York."
"I was," Randal said with a nod. "And I have. I just wanted to show them to you in person."
Price frowned. "I thought that was Samuel's job. Did he tell you to come here instead of focusing on pre-production?"
"No, I came of my own volition," Randal clarified, opening the folder he carried. "These are the two actors I want for the leads."
He laid out the headshots of Noah and Julie, followed by two close-ups of the pair together. One photo was of them posing close to each other in their limited clothing, looking at the camera. While the other was a passionate kiss that the two shared.
Price studied the photos, a slight frown tugging at his features.
"Isn't that girl a little too old for the role?" he asked, carefully choosing his words.
"They're the same age," Randal replied with a small smile. "And I'll shoot it in a way that works. Plus, Julie's agreed to do all the nude and sexy bits herself, same as Noah. Together, they'll ignite the screen. Any other girl just won't do it for me the way Julie will."
Price mulled it over silently.
"But Brooke Shields is such a draw. So is Tatum O'Neal. You put either of them in this role, and the buzz alone will sell tickets."
Randal considered that, then shook his head. "I can't. See this guy, Noah? He's dating Julie. And the two of them together are electric. He says he'll only take the role if we cast them both. And I need him for this film. Just watch their tape together, and you'll see what I mean."
Though reluctant, Price finally nodded.
Randal got up and put the tape of their audition in the projector placed in the room and quickly played it.
After watching the audition, Price turned back to Randal. "I see what you mean. What does Samuel think of this?"
"He's on board with Noah," Randal admitted. "But he's opposed to casting Julie. That's why I came straight to you. Please, Frank, let me make this film with these two. I know I can deliver something truly special."
Frank Price closed his eyes for a few seconds, weighing the politics and potential. When he opened them, he said, "Alright. But you need to convince both Noah and Julie to sign a three-picture deal with us. And do it so that they don't know I ordered you."
Randal grinned. "Don't worry, I'll handle it."
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AN: Read up to 40 advanced chapters on my website, or check out my other story, Dreams of Stardom.
Link: www(dot)fablefic(dot)com