Alison dutifully handed over her head shot. It was easily the most beautiful picture that had ever been taken of her. Her long bangs hung perfectly over the startling intelligence of her green eyes, and the way her cheekbones tilted toward the light made her look like she might carry some sort of Cherokee blood in there with all the Irish-English-German–Eastern European mutt that the rest of her was. Her smile was wide and joyful for once, rather than cocky. She looked like a movie star; it was the smartest $1,500 she had ever spent. The girl at the desk didn’t even glance at it. “They’ll call you when they’re ready,” she informed Alison. “But like I said, they’re already way behind.”
Alison nodded politely at this and scooted herself down the hall, to the first open chair that she spotted. She ended up sitting between an ill-tempered Hispanic girl and one of the Goth chicks, the one with blue streaks in her hair. Hispanic girl in a bad mood wouldn’t even look at her. Goth chick grinned, hapless, and stuck out her hand.
“Hi, I’m Rae,” she informed Alison. “Are you reading for the witness?”
“Yeah,” said Alison, appreciating the gesture of camaraderie. “There are a lot of people here.”
“For a fucking two-line part! Like, how much are they going to pay if you get it, even, seven hundred bucks? Bite me with your seven hundred bucks.”
“Well, I’m just glad they’ll see me,” Alison admitted. “I’m pretty new here.”
“Oh no, totally, you got to do it. Got to be seen. Those fucking agents, they’ll drop you like you got the plague or something, if you can’t even get seen for this shit. It is such a cataclysmically shitty time. They keep using this shitty economy as an excuse to drop people, my agency, they just let half their client list go. I’m, like, fuck, what the fuck! I don’t know why I’m still on the rosters. Last year I had a good year, I ended up with a four-show arc on Blood Brothers, that might be why they haven’t axed me yet. Who knows. I hope this Goth thing works. It’s a totally retarded look I’m well aware but I had to give it a shot. I have got to land something.”
It was a lot of people running, there was so many people, Alison thought. She watched the far end of the hallway, where a tall skinny blonde in six-inch platform heels swung out of the doorway, looking like she was trying to not look unhappy, while behind her some guy in jeans and a crummy blue windbreaker, wearing a baseball cap, leaned over the girl at the desk to see who was his next victim. “Maria Isabella Rodriguez!” called the Hello Kitty assistant. The Hispanic girl to Alison’s left stood slowly, stretched, took a piece of gum out of her mouth, and deliberately stuck it to the bottom of the folding chair she had been sitting on, before strutting down to the waiting auditioners.
“She’s going to get it,” Rae informed Alison under her breath. “Everybody wants Hispanic right now. Nobody wants a white girl. You would not believe how many times my agent told me, you had that except they wanted to go Hispanic. That’s why I went for this Goth thing. It doesn’t matter how good you are, you got to have a look or thing, something they can buy. You can’t just be white. I mean, I’m sure you’re good? But you got to know what you’re up against.”
“Thanks,” Alison said. She had been glad enough when she first sat down that this person seemed like a friendly chatter, but now she wished Goth Girl would just shut up. For an instant Goth Girl oddly reminded Alison of her mother, who, the one time she had visited New York, had talked to absolutely everyone she sat down next to on the subway. Rose even showed photographs of all her children to the elderly black woman seated across from her.
“I’m just telling you don’t take it personally if you don’t get it. That’s what I learned from experience, don’t take it personally,” Rae continued, biting her thumbnail with a worried glance down the hall. The door swung open and the Hispanic girl swished out, moving quickly past them with that continued sour look on her face. “Well, guess that didn’t go so good,” Goth Girl muttered, clearly pleased. “They don’t always go for the Hispanic thing. I mean, it’s not like you can count on that. You have to be good. As long as you have a look, something that pops you out, and you’re good, you got a shot.” She was clearly talking to herself now, and had been all along. It was a lot of people running, there were so many people, Alison thought. The journey is the goal, and the goal is the journey.
“Rae Leavitt,” called Hello Kitty assistant girl. Rae stood up and straightened out her skirt, revealing a massive hole in her black wool stockings. She was wearing worn-out red Converse sneakers as well. The Goth thing she had going was a whole look, top to bottom.
“Wow, look at you,” said Hello Kitty. “Rich said you were going for something different but he didn’t say what.”
“Yeah, I thought it might be kind of fun to just switch things up,” Rae told her.