Between us sits a computer with a spreadsheet open. I've got a notebook full of lists in front of me. It's easier for me to jot notes about the talent and then input the info into the spreadsheet later.
The logistics of this week are a nightmare. We're casting for seven shows for the upcoming season this summer. We're looking for the core of our company; women and men, eight of each, who will be in all the shows, in addition to leads and featured players for each of the seven shows.
It's a lot of bodies to place.
"Okay, next. What are you singing?" Grayson calls.
"Um, I'll be singing 'A Million Dreams' fromThe Greatest Showman,” the nervous actress says, twisting her hands into knots.
Great.
Another one.
She's easily the tenth person who's sung this today. Often, when the word gets out about what shows you're doing, the prospective cast comes in with those songs prepared. Sometimes it works.
Today is not one of those times.
Probably because all I can hear is Tabitha singing that song. No one will ever compare to her, so they shouldn't even try.
Two hours later, I want to stick a fork in my eye.
"Dude, what's up with you? I've never seen you this grumpy, and for you, that's saying a lot."
I shrug. "Dunno, mate. Just not feeling it today. I mean, have we seenanyoneeven remotely capable?"
Grayson lifts up his notebook, which has a lot more notes in it than mine does. I've got a lot ofno'swritten down, but not much else.
"No, seriously, man, what gives?"
I'm going to sound like the biggest sap when I say this. Or the biggest sucker. "I can't get the way Tabitha sounded out of my head. Now everyone else who sings that infernal song just sounds like a cheap knockoff."
Morgan, our casting assistant, pokes her head into the studio. "You ready for the next one?"
Grayson holds up a finger without looking up from his phone. "Give me a minute. I need to watch something real quick."
I lean back in the chair, my arms behind my head. This is stupid. It was just dinner and some kissing. It wasn't anything else. I don't believe in anything else.
I don't want anything else.
Yet still … her voice fills my head day and night, like a siren's call.
Even now, I hear it, as if she were in the room. It's—
It's not in my head. It's actually playing. Grayson has pulled up the video.
Dammit.
I've refrained from watching it because it would be pointless and futile and masochistic to do so. I'm not a masochist, which is why I avoid relationships altogether. Hence, no video watching.
Also, if I start watching it, chances are I won't stop. It'll go viral from my views alone.
"Yeah, she's good. I don't know that she's the be-all and end-all, but it would be great to have her in the show,” Grayson concedes.
"Right. That's what I'm thinking about. Charity inThe Greatest Showman. I can't see anyone else for the role."
That's it, and that's it alone.
"Oh, wait! Hold the phone! What do we have here?" Grayson's bouncing up and down in his seat like a toddler on a sugar high.
