She looks up at me, momentarily surprised by my question.
“What? Oh no. Just a video call.” She frowns, seemingly unsettled by the thought. She catches my concerned look and recovers quickly. “No, it’s just, my parking is almost up.” She smirks and takes the final drag on her cigarette before stubbing it out on a planter pot. “You got something after?”
“Yeah, I’ve got one over in Burbank.”
“At Warner Bros.?”
“Yeah.”
“Right, I heard about that one,” she answers but I can tell she’s not listening anymore. Something really is bothering her. The casting office door bangs open again and another Rose exits.
Well, thatwasquick.
Emily and I share a glance as the latest Rose disappears down the stairs.
“Uh-oh,” Emily mutters and checks her watch again. “That can’t have gone well.”
A casting director pops her head out around the door.
“Who’s next? Ready?” she trills before disappearing back inside.
“Oh shit,” Emily groans, still eyeing her watch. “Do you wanna go in first? I am actually going to have to top up my parking or I’m going get a ticket. I’ll run and do it now and you can take my place, okay?”
The suggestion knocks me off center for a second. I’d almost forgotten I was even here for a casting. I can’t go in next; I can’t even remember what we’re supposed to be auditioning for. I’m not ready. My mind whirs as I try to work out how the hell I can politely decline and come up with—“No, no, it’s fine. You go first. I can keep an eye out for parking attendants.” As soon as I say it, I know we both know I have no intention of doing so. I change tack. “I’m sure the car will be fine. Even if the meter’s run out they won’t give you a ticket straightaway. Go on in, it’ll be fine.” I wonder if it’s completely obvious that I couldn’t care less about her car, I just don’t want to go in next.
But she doesn’t seem to notice as she flops her bag down onto the bench next to me and starts digging around inside for her keys.
“Urgh,” she groans. “I don’t know if I should chance it. It’s a rental car and I literally have no idea what I’m supposed to do if it gets clamped or towed. My agent sorts car stuff out for me. I don’t drive in New York.” She turns to me, clearly preoccupied. “Seriously, it’s fine if you want to go in first, I don’t mind. I just need to feed the meter.”
She’s quite worried, her earlier confidence strangely absent. I feel my guilt rising. Might she get towed? I hadn’t considered that. I don’t know whatI’ddo if that happened to my car either. “Do they do that in LA, tow you, if your parking runs out?” I ask.
She’s still not really listening as she fumbles for her wallet. “Dunno, but I don’t want to find out.”
The casting director reappears. “Whenever you’re ready, ladies,” she chirps passive-aggressively before disappearing again.
I feel my stress levels rising now. I’m not going in next with the casting director in that mood. No way. And it’s out of my mouth before I can stop it. “I’ll feed the meter for you. Just go.”
Emily pauses mid-bag-scramble. “Seriously?” She seems suddenly caught off guard as she takes a second to think it through. “Uh. Okay.” She flicks a glance down to the wallet and keys in her hands, realizing she’ll have to hand them over to a stranger.
And suddenly I find that I’m now the one trying to convince her. “It’s fine,” I assure her. “It’ll only take me a second. It’s just downstairs, right?”
“Yeah.” Her forehead creases as she looks back toward the audition room, her wallet held tight in her hand. Then her eyes land back on me decisively. “Yes. Okay. Okay, great! Here.” She hastily hands me her wallet. “It’s the meter for the white Chevrolet. Oh, and take these just in case you have to move it to the next bay if it’s reached a limit or something.” She quickly pushes the car keys into my hand too. Then she straightens her outfit and grabs her script. “Great. Thanks. I owe you one. It’s Mia, right?” She beams over her shoulder. I nod and she slips into the darkness of the casting studio.
I find her car two spaces from mine. A clean white Chevrolet as basic as a rental car comes.
The parking meter has no minutes left on it. I squint at the faded digital readout. It ran out twenty minutes ago. Why the hell didn’t she come down and top it up earlier? I suppose she got her timings wrong. There’s no fine yet, thankfully. I scan the street for traffic wardens but I have no idea what a California traffic warden looks like so quickly give up. There’s no one on the street anyway.
I carefully read the blurb on the parking meter. I put two hours on my car when I got here. But it doesn’t say anything about exceeding a maximum stay on her bay so I guess I don’t need to move her car for her, thank God. It suddenly occurs to me how annoying and time consuming that would actually have been as the bays here are full and I wonder why on earth she would suggest I do that in the first place. And why on earth she gave a complete stranger her bank card. I guess neither of us is particularly good under pressure—which, I note, might not bode well for our choice of career.
As I fumble through her wallet I wonder why I felt the need to do this. I guess I felt obligated. I don’t know. I couldn’t help notice the break in her cool. The change in her demeanor—the genuine fear. I think getting this audition could possibly mean more to her than it does to me. Although I have to remind myself that I didn’t offer to help solely for her benefit. I just didn’t want to go in early without being prepared.
I slide her card into the slot, select another hour on the meter, and Emily’s parking meter dial shoots up to one forty-five.
And all things considered, I head back to the casting office feeling pretty good about myself.
7
A Rose by Any Other Name
