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J.T. Marcos continues his unabashed appraisal of me. I immediately become self-conscious. “Why don’t you just walk around a bit. I want to see you move,” the director says. I oblige. Boy, does this feel awkward.
The director shakes his head. The he pulls out his iPhone and begins to film me. All of a sudden, I start to strut around a bit. I swing my hi**ps. I push my chest out. I begin to seduce him with my walk. “There you go,” J.T. Marcos says to me. “Perhaps all you need is a camera pointed at you.”
He’s right. The camera does have an effect on me. J.T. Marcos continues to videotape me, which only makes me more animated, more excited and more comfortable in front of the highly regarded director.
J.T. Marcos turns off the iPhone and drops it in his pocket. “Do you have a place where we can sit down?” the director asks.
“Sure. Let’s go to the next room,” I tell him. We walk into this very masculine sitting room complete with ancient swords, muskets and Roman helmets hanging on the wall.
I sit down on a loveseat. Even though there are five chairs and three sofas, J.T. Marcos chooses to sit right next to me. It makes me both uncomfortable and exhilarated. “I have a role that is so real, so well developed that I can not trust that role to a regular actress. You see, a seasoned actress uses tricks in order to elicit reactions from an audience. I need someone who is genuine. I need someone who doesn’t have any fake emotions manufactured from an acting school. You, Sarah, are a natural. You are born to play this role,” the director tells me to my complete astonishment.
“I don’t know what to say. I have no acting experience.”
“I don’t want you to act!” J.T. Marcos screams which causes me to nearly jump away from him. “I want you to be yourself. The role I have written is that of a femme fatale. She exudes sexual energy. She is unafraid of any man. I get that vibe from you. I don’t get that vibe from actresses who are so desperate to please that they become repulsive, no matter how physically beautiful they look.”
I just sit there speechless. J.T. Marcos grabs my hand and says, “Just say ‘yes’ and the role is yours.”
I look at this director. With one word, I can go to Hollywood and become a movie star. The allure is overwhelming. The director’s eyes gleem just like Sir Gerald and Sergy Molidak. I have seduced him. Or perhaps he has seduced me.
“No. I’m sorry. I can’t take the role,” I tell J.T. Marcos.
The director takes his hand away from me. My heart begins to sink. I am doing the right thing here. This is not what Mr. Peak wants.
The director stands up and takes a nice long look around the room.
“Tell me. How long have you been dating Ryan Peak?”
“None of your business,” I tell him.
J.T. Marcos turns around and smiles. “That bullshit answer may work on some lowly paparazzi photographer. It’s not going to work on me.” The director looks at me up and down. This time he doesn’t have a gleam in his eye. He looks at me like someone unworthy of his time. “So I guess you think you have it made because you are dating a billionaire.”
Fuck this. Now, I’m pissed. I stand up and smack that as**shole right across the face. “You don’t f**king come in my man’s house and talk to me like that. You know where the door is,” I yell at him.
The butler walks into the room and asks, “Shall I call the NYPD Miss Sulamari?”
I look at the director. Deep down I don’t want to call the police. That would be bad press for Mr. Peak. I could see the headlines now, “Billionaire’s girlfriend gets into fight with movie director.” That’s the last f**king thing my boss needs.
The director doesn’t budge. This guy is every much the alpha male. He stands his ground. The man looks back at the butler and points at him. “What are you staring at you f**king creep?! I make more in a day than you make in a year!”
The butler stands there stoned face. “Shall I call the NYPD, Miss Sulamari?” the butler asks again in a more aggressive tone. Dammit. I am in a stalemate. I can’t call the police. If I don’t get this director out of here, he is going to cause a scene.
“Call Mr. Peak and tell him there is an unwanted guest in his home,” I tell the butler.
“Are you sure, Miss Sulamari?” the butler says in a tone that lets me know that this is a bad idea.
“Call him,” I say.
The butler walks out of the room. I sit back down on the sofa and smile. All of a sudden, this director gets really red-faced. “Do you think I’m scared of some rich as**shole banker?! Any unscrupulous f**ker can make a killing on Wall Street. And you are just his whore. When he finds someone better, he will dump you into a sewer and replace you with someone else.” Now the director walks around the room for a moment. He is just getting started. “I know what kind of relationship you have with this rich as**shole hedge fund guy. You are young and you are naive to the ways of the world. He controls you like a little play toy. I bet he didn’t even want you to meet me.” The director walks up to me and places his right hand on my shoulder. He leans in and whispers, “I could have given you fame and fortune. I could have given you something that your billionaire boyfriend would have never been able to put into your hands. And you blew it. You will have to live the rest of your life as someone else’s possession. You will have to live the rest of your life as a nobody.”
