Chapter Two
I placed my yoga mat on the hardwood floors in front of me. I sat on top of it, criss-cross, and folded my arms across my chest. I shut my eyes. I sucked in breath after breath, trying my best to think about nothing. It was so hard not to let my mind run wild, thoughts of failure, homelessness, the inevitable chances of dying alone and penniless, a waitress at the same place I have always worked, my son forever disadvantaged because of my selfish dreams.
That was the point of these weekly yoga sessions. I opened my eyes and glanced around me. We were on the fifth floor of a small apartment building in what would have been a studio. All around me were young people like me, aspiring twenty-somethings who took an hour out of their busy schedules of trying to make it, to be here so that we could do some breathing exercises and clear our minds and pretend that we had already made it.
I heard someone take in a sharp breath next to me. “Dawn,” I turned to find her laying belly-first on the matt, her cheek pressed onto the hardwood floor, her eyes staring straight at me.
“Are you gonna tell me what happened or not?”
I cocked my head to the side. “Come on. You know I don’t like jinxing these things.”
“Well, what about just telling me the facts. You can’t go on the most coveted audition in the city at the Beverly Hills hotel and have nothing to report.”
Her praying was starting to make me anxious. I would have preferred not to talk about it at all, with anyone, until I figured out how it went. I preferred not to think about it. I preferred to pretend that it didn’t happen so that I could go to other auditions and jobs and put my whole soul into them. So that I could focus on my son’s needs and not be distracted by this thing I could no longer control. So that I would be the one in control.
But Dawn wasn’t like that. In fact, most other people weren’t. They preferred to hang their whole futures on one moment, one audition, because they wanted that story and they wanted it to be that easy. “Okay fine. The hotel was amazing.”
“And?”
The door shut behind us. I heard someone walk from the back, weaving through the yoga mats, to the front. We were running out of time. “And I cried during my monologue.”
She sat up, nodding, her lips pursed in thought. “I’m sure a lot of people did. How did you feel?”
“Connected.”
She nodded again. What she didn’t know is that it wasn’t the piece I felt connected to. It was David. The entire time I was in that hotel room, all I was aware of was him, gazing at me, egging me on, supporting me with his captivating presence.
Soon, the session began and I went through the motions, breathing, stretching, pushing myself and thinking about David. I imagined him right in front of me, his eyes fixated on me, boring a hole right through my face, his stiff body pressed up against me. His lips, the smell of cigarettes, brushing across my face. I imagined placing a hand on his jaw, thought of the way his hands might look without the wedding ring, thought about his fingers on my body, in my body…
By the time the yoga session was over, I was in desperate need of a cold shower. We rolled up our mats, put our donations in the box and headed outside. I glanced around the Valley street, my eyes squinting in the sunlight. I felt something vibrate in my pocket. “Oh shit.” I dropped everything. When you’re living in a hostel in Los Angeles trying to get a film, you drop everything when your phone rings. “Hello?” My voice sounded shaky and breathless.
“Laila.”
Oh my God. It was Clara Mason. “This is she.”
“We would like to offer you the part.”
My heart stopped. My stomach churned. Goosebumps littered my skin. The world spun around me as her words bounced around in my head. I could not believe what I was hearing. And yet, it all seemed right. Of course I got the part. I had done my best, and my best is amazing.
“We will be sending you an official offer via email with all of the details including filming and audition schedules as well as the contract. Please read it carefully and get back to us within the week regarding the terms of the contract.”
“Thank, you. Thank you.” It was unnecessary, but I had to put my energy somewhere.
“We would also like to invite you to a cast party at my home tonight. Those details will be sent to you as well.”
“Thank you so much!” This was so unreal. My mind struggled to wrap itself around the reality of what was happening.
***
After thinking it over in my head, I had convinced myself that the cast party was something I had to participate in. I had to get my name out there and network, even if it was after hours and John was at home. I knew Dawn would take good care of him. I would get her back one day; for all of this.
It was hard to get to Clara’s house because no buses went there. I had to take a chance on my bank account and use another uber, promising myself I would skip lunch the next day to make up for it and purposefully not thinking about the fact that I would also have to take one to get home, which meant another day of skipping lunch. But that wasn’t my problem anymore anyway. By the end of the week, I was about to sign a contract that would pay the bills at least for the next several months. And this contract would get me another and another and another.
By the time the driver had turned on Clara’s street, I had worked myself into the kind of confidence that would ensure that I nailed this event.
But as soon as her house came into view, with all of those flashy, luxury cars rolling in and out of view, a rock dropped in my stomach. What the fuck was I doing there? All these people knew each other, had probably been working together for a decade, belonged together. I stepped out of the car and straightened my dress. No one even noticed me. It was so haunting. Why was I even there?
I adjusted my dress, but that only made me hyper-aware of the fact that it barely cost me forty bucks while I was walking amongst people who were wearing next year’s fashion. I got by the bouncer easily enough because my name was right there on the list, but as soon as I was inside, I was bombarded with noise. The foyer was massive, the voices bouncing off the walls, the perfect faces bathed in ambient, blue light. Three people came by with trays filled with glasses of champagne, but I couldn’t bring myself to grab one. The irony was not lost on me that in another world, I would be one of those people walking around, offering up alcohol to those luckier than me.
After wandering through the sprawling first floor, feeling victimized that I didn’t at least get to bring a guest so I didn’t feel so inconsequential, I made my way to what looked like a guest bathroom. I waited outside for about five minutes, my head darting around. At this point, I couldn’t decide whether I would have rather been invisible, or the center of everyone’s attention. I felt like I should have been. I was the star of the whole fucking movie. And yet, somehow, that didn’t matter. I thought it would.
Finally, I got my time in the bathroom. I shut the door behind me, reveling in the silence. I stared at myself in the mirror, relieved that my makeup hadn’t smudged. I stared at my body. I was beautiful and I knew it, even if this cheap, black dress wasn’t doing me any good. And anyway, what was I doing being a scared crybaby, wasting the opportunity of a lifetime? I needed to get the fuck out there and meet my new team… and network. This was not a time for babies. I shouldn’t need a possy to be effective.
With that, I stepped out of the bathroom, feeling energized and renewed. I picked up the first champagne glass that came my way and chugged the contents down, grabbing another. The clouds that rolled in on my mind, softening the sharp, unforgiving thoughts that threatened to scare me out of the whole building, helped me relax even more.
I was about to make another round on the first floor when I heard a voice behind me. I stopped in my tracks, knowing exactly who it was. “Well, well well if it isn’t my star.”
I turned to find David staring right at me, his perfect body draped in a button down and dark sweater combination, dress pants and flashy dress shoes. He somehow made eyeglasses look chic. He held that champagne glass with so much comfort, he was probably born with it.
In the next moment, he was standing right in front of me, the scent of his cologne, the only thing my nose could process.
“How are you?” I felt myself smiling, warmed at the attention. All the memories of my time in his house drowning me; all the desire I had suppressed.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On if I can get some time alone with you.”
My eyes widened, ever so slightly, as I considered the proposition. I had heard the stories; oh so many stories. But it didn’t have to be like that with me. I wouldn’t let it be like that. Here he was, the man of my fantasies, asking to be alone with me. What kind of crazy person would I be if I didn’t just let it happen?
“Well then, I think you’ll be glad to hear that you can.”
He held his arm out for me.
Even as I grabbed it, I could feel the nervous sweat dripping down my back.