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When I turned seventeen, I hit a growth spurt. I went from a gangly, rail thin boy to a six-three man with a square jaw, and a beard that any mountain man would envy.
The changes in my body changed my life. Day by day, I was able to take back my power, and three years later, I was here.
I’d survived.
“It’s the facial hair,” I replied as I rubbed my face.
I’d shaved three hours ago, but the stubble was already growing in fast and thick.
“No. It’s your eyes. You’ve had a shit life.”
Who the fuck was this woman? An agent or a goddamn psychic?
Now I was really starting to sweat, and it had nothing to do with the audition.
“Let’s get on with it,” she sighed. “Page 4 of the script, paragraph five. Barry, read it out with him. Go.”
I stared at the camera that was set up in between Charlene and her assistant, Barry. He held the script in his hand and yawned.
Tough crowd.
You can do this.
No. I will do this. No can or would or should or anything else but success.
Confidence.
I was going to get this fucking role. I could feel it in my bones. I was launching myself into the Hollywood stratosphere, no matter what.
And nothing, not even this intimidating casting agent, was gonna stop me.
The role, as Charlene mentioned, was for a cop. One who just discovered that his partner was on the take. There was an ensuing confrontation. A shootout was set to occur.
The role was a perfect fit for me.
I’d experienced plenty of violence in my life. Enough to summon an anger so intense it would burn this fucking warehouse down.
And score me this role.
I took a deep breath and went for it.
“I said put the fucking gun down,” I bit out, each word lower and deadlier than the last.
“You’re really not going to shoot me, are you? You wouldn’t. I’m your fucking partner.” Barry read off the script.
“You’re a dirty cop, that’s what you are! A traitor to your oath and to me. Now I’m done talking to you. Either put the gun down or I swear to God, I’m gonna shoot.”
“You won’t. You can’t,” Barry scoffed.
“I fucking will!” I roared.
“I got a wife at home. Are you really going to do that to her? Make Jenny a widow?”
“Damn right. Not only that, I’m gonna console your wife. Poor, beautiful Jenny. So young, all alone, and fragile now that her lying, thieving husband is gone. But I’m here. I’m a real man. One that doesn’t screw up. But I’ll be damn ready to screw her.”
“You son of a—Bang, the sound of a gun goes off,” Barry muttered in a monotone voice. “Cut scene.”
I glanced at Charlene, hoping, wondering, but she said… nothing.
