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“That’s me,” she replied, flushed with embarrassment.
He seemed not to notice. Either that or he was a hell of a poker player. Motioning for her to follow him, he retreated down the hallway. Jo debated if she was okay to leave her coat hanging out here unattended, but there was nothing in it, so she left it and tried to keep up with his long strides instead. He stopped in a doorway at the end of the hall and waved her inside.
“Please wait inside. Mr. Harrison will be with you in just a few moments.”
Jo took a seat in the large room. After being out in the rain and chilly air, it felt heavenly. Heavy curtains were drawn to keep out any drafts and there was a large fire blazing nearby. The room smelled like sandalwood and freshly baked bread. She noted a large round table by the fire and a cupboard filled with glasses and assorted bottles of alcohol on the wall opposite the fireplace.
“Do you like it?” a voice said from behind her.
She turned to find herself looking at a bald, portly man of about fifty or so. His jovial face sported a pair of wire rimmed glasses and a smile spread across his face, giving him a harmless appearance, which she very much appreciated in her current state of anxiety.
“It’s a lovely place,” she replied, unsure if she should refer to it as a home or an office.
“Thank you. This is the hub of the household. There is room down here for working by the fireplace or in the kitchen cooking. There are separate living quarters upstairs, but the house is designed to entertain down here on the lower level.”
“I see. I have to confess, I’m still not sure what it is I’m doing here. The ad wasn’t very clear and the woman that called me was fairly vague.”
“And yet, you turned up anyway, at a stranger’s home on a mostly unoccupied street. It’s brave. We appreciate brave women.”
Jo tensed. She wasn’t sure if it was just a benign statement or had some sinister meaning that would become all too clear after it was too late to escape. This was clearly a mistake. She just couldn’t seem to stop making them.
“Relax. I know the venue here might seem a bit unorthodox, but we aren’t your normal agency.”
“Sorry I’m late,” a woman said as she entered the door.
Jo turned to see a middle aged woman with a short blonde bob and kind face enter. She was delicate looking, but something told Jo that her looks might be deceiving.
“It’s okay, honey. We are still waiting on Mr. Harrison.”
“Wait? You aren’t Mr. Harrison?” Jo asked. She had just assumed.
“No. I am Joshua Bryant, and this is my wife, Helen. Mr. Harrison is our client. He will be present for the interview.”
“You mean audition.”
“Same thing in this circumstance.”
“Which is what, exactly?” Jo asked.
“Have a seat, Ms. Claybourne. Would you like a drink?” Helen asked.
“No, thank you,” Jo replied politely.
The truth was, she would kill for a drink right now, but she couldn’t afford to compromise her senses and wasn’t sure she trusted that it wouldn’t be enhanced with anything she didn’t agree to, like drugs.
She was cursing herself for accepting this invitation and was considering leaving when a man entered the room behind her.
“Ah, Mr. Harrison. Please come in.”
Introductions were made, and they all had a seat around the table. Helen poured a drink for the three of them and brought Jo an unsolicited bottle of water, sealed. It was as if she had read her mind. Jo accepted it graciously, thanking her and opening it to take a sip.
“Let us start by getting to know you a bit,” Mr. Bryant said, waiting expectantly for her to reply.
“Oh, you want me to just . . . Okay.”
Jo gave them the basics, without revealing too much. She rattled off things like divorced, new start, new town, and expressed her need for a job to support herself.
“What are your current living arrangements?” he asked.
It was an odd question for an acting job, she thought, but she didn’t want to seem cagey, so she answered honestly, still careful not to reveal an exact location or too many details.
“I’m renting a small place from a gentleman and his wife.”
“Do you have a lease?”
“No. It’s just day to day, until I get on my feet.”
“You said you are divorced. What happened there?” Mr. Harrison asked.
“I don’t mean to seem ungrateful for the opportunity, but that’s a bit personal for an audition, isn’t it?” she replied.
“Probably.”
When he said nothing further, she found herself really looking at him. He had soulful brown eyes and thick wavy brown hair, complimented by a well-groomed beard. There was something about him that she found disarming in a way she didn’t perceive from the Bryants. He was handsome, but not in the traditional sense. He was rugged, untamed in some way. At least, that was how she perceived him.
