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“That’s just her role,” I reply, grabbing a second slice of pizza and trying not to feel guilty about it. “I bet she’s nice in person.”
“Nah, not a chance. Just look at the way she smiles; there’s something definitely very bitchy about it. And you know me, I’m never wrong about stuff like this.”
“Yeah, except that one time you thought you were being hit on by a pervert...And the poor guy just wanted directions,” I tell her with a laugh, propping my feet up on our small coffee table. It wobbles under my feet, and I bend over to stick a folded magazine under its shortest leg. We should've bought a new table ages ago, but there’s always something more pressing for us to do with our money, like paying the gas bill or buying new shoes.
“See? Look at how she’s eyeing him,” Laurel continues, chewing as she points at the screen. There, Kane is sitting behind his desk as his TV daughter pesters him about something.
“I see it,” I nod, watching as Alberta, the actress playing the daughter, narrows her unblinking eyes as she stares at Kane. She definitely looks entitled and high-maintenance, but isn’t that the whole point of her character? Maybe Alberta’s just a great actress. After all, she’s part of Manhattan Reign’s main cast...You don’t get a job like that without having the acting chops to back it up.
“I’d never write her part like that. It just seems so obvious, you know?” Laurel continues, once more giving me her opinion about the scene we’re watching. It’s always like this; she can’t resist giving me her breakdown of whatever movie or TV show we’re watching. It makes sense, though: after all, she’s an aspiring screenwriter slash director.
“Oh, yeah, have they called you already?”
“Who? The Manhattan Reign people?” I ask her, my eyes instinctively wandering to my phone, resting on the armrest of our old beaten down couch.
“No, the New York Patriots...What do you think, Sasha?”
“No,” I sigh. “Not a word yet. I doubt they’ll even call me...They’ll probably give that role to some big name actress, or someone with more boobs than brains.”
“Now that’s what being positive is all about,” Laurel laughs, sitting up straight on the couch. She reaches for the pizza box but then hesitates, her hand hovering over a slice. Shrugging, she then picks the slice up and devours half of it in a single bite. “If they don’t call you,” she continues, her mouth full of pizza, “that’s because they’re idiots.”
“That’s nice of you but —”
“No, seriously,” she cuts me short, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. “You were born for that role. And after what you told me about your audition…”
“Yeah, I thought it went well at the time...But now I’m not so sure. I mean, it’s been three days already. If they wanted me for the role, they probably would’ve already called.”
“Don’t be so sure of that...After what you told me about Kane, mm…”
“Stop it!” I laugh, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at her head. She moves to the side, avoiding it just in time, and shows me one big grin.
“He was totally into it, wasn’t he?” She asks me, even though I think I’ve already answered that question a thousand times. Okay, I’ll admit it, though: I might have answered differently each and every time.
“He seemed to be,” I whisper, throwing my head back and allowing the memories of the audition to resurface. He definitely seemed into it, yeah, but that was the whole point of the audition, right? After all, that’s what acting is all about – polishing what’s fake until it becomes the truth. “It didn’t feel like I was acting, you know? It was natural.”
“That’s because it was natural,” she laughs, looking at me slyly. “From what I’ve heard, Kane is a complete man whore. I bet he was picturing you naked while you were doing that scene.”
“C’mon, stop that,” I tell her again, pursing my lips as my heart sends a load of burning blood to my cheeks, coloring them in a violent red. “It wasn’t like that.”
“No? Then why are you blushing that much?”
“I’m not blushing!” I protest, my face feeling as if it’s on fire. Although I’m an actress (or trying to be one), I’m not the best of liars. But then again, Laurel is the kind of person that seems to have a built-in lie detector. That’s my roomie, an amateur psychologist who dreams of becoming a world-famous screenwriter.
“Oh, you’re definitely blushing,” she continues to tease me, playfully punching my shoulder. “I bet you could sleep with him if you wanted to.”
“I don’t want to —”
“You do.”
“No,” I tell her, laughing. “I don’t want to sleep with him. I’m all business, baby.”
“Look at you...All grown up. Anyway,” she continues, her gaze wandering to the TV. “That’s probably for the best. I want you to be all business. After all, you’ll have to hire me as your personal assistant once you get that big break of yours.”
“Wow, that’s really subtle of you,” I tease her, although that thought has been on my mind for a while. Laurel has some experience on set, and I figure I’d need some assistance if I somehow manage to land a big role. Besides, it’d be good for her; she’ll be able to meet new people, network, and perhaps start something of her own.
“It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there. Subtlety is for the weak,” she replies, her tone a dramatic one. If she wasn’t that hell bent on being behind the lens of a camera, there’s no doubt in my mind that she’d be a good actress.
“So...Do we watch another?” I ask her as the credits start to roll on the TV. We’ve been binge watching Manhattan Reign for three hours now, and I bet we can go three hours more. After all, there’s nothing better for us to do...and that show is addictive.
