So they did it again. And again. And again. Eric watched and called “LA” (Mrs. Amberson) a few times to see if more was needed. LA always needed more. Scarlett was so fried she thought she’d cry if she had to read those lines again. Spencer and Donna, being professionals, kept going strong. After the eighteenth take, though, Donna called proceedings to a halt.
“I feel like I’ve done all I can with that,” she said. “Without direction, I mean. At this point, we’re just repeating ourselves.”
That’s the point, Scarlett wanted to say. But secretly she wanted to hug Donna for making it stop.
“Sure,” Eric said confidently. “Let me give them a call.”
He vanished into the hall with his phone. Donna went to the corner to drink from her bottle of water and do some neck rolls. Spencer gave Scarlett a sly shoulder bump of support as he went over to the table to move the headshots around, as if he was doing something useful with them.
“Okay,” Eric said, returning. “They just need to see one more thing. We’re going to need to try a little improv scene with you and…Dick. Tara, you can come and sit over here with me.”
This was new. Mrs. Amberson clearly needed time. It didn’t matter to Scarlett as long as she didn’t have to be in it anymore. Now her job was to sit next to Eric. That, she could do.
“This character has a violence problem,” Eric explained. “We want to see a scene in the station where Alice really oversteps the bounds. Can you get rough with him?”
As Donna and Spencer squared off, and Eric made up a situation, there was a convulsion in Scarlett’s abdomen, a physically painful twinge.
Oh, no. This was bad.
The hysteria finally hit Scarlett. She was going to start laughing, and she was never, ever going to stop. It wasn’t a joyful feeling, it was a horribly terrifying one.
“Don’t worry,” Spencer was saying to Donna. “You can come right at me.”
The heave of laughter was building in Scarlett’s chest. She put every ounce of energy in her body into pushing it down. She tried not to see, not to hear, not to think…even when Donna was throwing Spencer up against the wall and screaming the words, “Do you want to know what it feels like to be a victim?” into his face.
The laugh was just at the bottom of her throat, and when it came, it would be loud, and it would never, ever stop. It would be laughter vomit.
Just as it was all going to come out, Eric reached over and took her hand under the table.
“Squeeze,” he whispered surreptitiously. “Hard.”
Scarlett squeezed. She squeezed so hard that she worried that she might break his fingers. He didn’t wince. Didn’t blink. Just kept his eyes straight forward on the scene like it wasn’t even happening.
She felt herself relaxing. The laugh eased itself back down. Scarlett released some of the pressure, but kept her hand in Eric’s for safety as Donna raged on, cycling through every emotion, showing them everything she could. She fought, she cried, she swung. Spencer weaved and dodged and held her back. And all the while, Eric squeezed Scarlett’s hand gently. Something real passed through that squeeze. He wasn’t doing it for the scene anymore—he was holding her hand because he wanted to, and he extracted it reluctantly when things drew to a close.
“That was great,” he said, when Donna had finished. “I’ll just check with them…”
“LA” was apparently satisfied, and Donna was thanked and dismissed, with promises that someone would be in touch soon. When she was gone, the three of them were quiet for a moment. They heard her footsteps going off in the distance, the ding of the elevator, the close of the door.
Eric put his head down on the table. Spencer sprang up, grabbed Scarlett, and threw her over his shoulder.
“You were amazing!” he said.
“I sucked,” she replied, upside down. “I almost laughed.”
“No,” Eric said, rubbing his crushed hand with a knowing smile. “You covered yourself really well.”
“Seriously,” Spencer said, shifting her into piggyback position. “I have to admit I was worried when you got thrown into it, but you totally pulled it off like a champ. I could tell you were scared, but you did it, anyway.”
This praise felt good…maybe better than anything in recent memory. She had made her brother proud and impressed the guy she liked. The mood only improved when Mrs. Amberson returned to see how it all went. She was effusive in her praise.
“Now,” she said, passing some money to Spencer and Eric, “my friends didn’t want to bother with a confidentiality agreement, but it’s important that you don’t tell anyone about this. Word gets out way too easily. So, lips sealed! You two can head off. Scarlett and I will finish up here.”
Eric looked like he wanted to linger a bit, but with Mrs. Amberson shooing him out and Spencer going as well, he couldn’t really stay.
“I knew you had it in you,” Mrs. Amberson said when they were gone.
“I guess,” Scarlett replied.