When You Least Expect It

by Whitney Gaskell

  “Oh,” Flaca said sympathetically. “My mom ran into your mom at Publix a few weeks ago. Mom said Candace looked terrible.”

  Worry flickered through Lainey. Was Candace drinking? She always drank to some degree, of course, but there had been a few bad episodes over the years—usually precipitated by a bad breakup—where Candace had lost control of her drinking.

  “Maybe I should stop by her house and check on her,” Lainey said.

  “You know what I’m going to say to that, right?”

  “You’re going to tell me that it’s not my job to take care of my mother,” Lainey said. Over the years, Flaca had given her many speeches about how she should not enable Candace’s alcoholism.

  “Exactly,” Flaca said. “Anyway, I called for a reason. Are you at work? Can you get on the Internet?”

  “Sure,” Lainey said. “Why?”

  “Check out the website for DiCosta Casting.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m telling you, girl, just look at the website,” Flaca said over the phone. “You’re not going to believe it.”

  Lainey tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder. “Hold on, I’m looking it up right now,” she said, typing DiCosta Casting into the search engine. “Wait, I think I found it. Yeah, here it is.”

  Lainey clicked through to the website. DICOSTA CASTING was featured at the top in bubbly, neon pink lettering, and below that, it read, THE MOST EXPERIENCED CASTING AGENCY IN MIAMI! SEE WHAT FIFTEEN YEARS OF KNOW-HOW CAN DO FOR YOU!

  “Look at the list of casting calls. There’s one for a reality show,” Flaca said.

  “Are you serious?”

  Lainey clicked on the link to current casting calls. She scanned over the list; it was mostly for commercials. But then she saw what Flaca had called to tell her about:

  CASTING CALL FOR NEW REALITY SHOW!

  We’re casting for a new reality television show that will be shot here in Miami, and which will air on a major network! Looking for Mr. Right will feature seven gorgeous single women who are still looking for their Prince Charming. Our panel of celebrity matchmakers will help the women sort out the princes from the frogs. The women will live together in a house located in the glamorous South Beach neighborhood. We’re looking for people with strong, extroverted personalities, who embrace new experiences and who are ready to take on the notoriety that this high-profile show will bring. Candidates must be extremely attractive and ready to commit to a four-month filming schedule. Open casting will take place on April 15th at the Hyatt Regency located in downtown Miami.

  Lainey’s pulse picked up, and a warm flush prickled over her body. This was it! This was the opportunity she’d been waiting for! And she didn’t even have to go to Los Angeles—the audition was actually within driving distance. As though it sensed her excitement, the baby began to squirm. Lainey didn’t think she’d ever get used to the odd, fluttering sensation this gave her, and she absentmindedly dropped one hand to rest on her rounded belly.

  “Where did you hear about this?” she asked.

  “The radio. They were talking about it on the morning show. Are you going to try out?”

  “Absolutely!” Lainey said excitedly. “I have to get one of these spots!” The baby did another back flip—this one so strong she could feel the ripple of movement against her hand—and Lainey’s hopes suddenly plummeted. “Wait … April fifteenth? That’s two weeks from now.”

  “I know. It’s the day of my wedding.”

  “Then I can’t go,” Lainey said, deflating.

  “Of course you can. The wedding’s not until five o’clock. You’ll have plenty of time to get to Miami and back.”

  “But don’t I have maid-of-honor duties?”

  “I have five sisters. They can cover it,” Flaca said.

  Lainey hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t want to let you down.”

  “I know. And I’m absolutely sure,” Flaca said.

  “The other problem is that I’ll still be the size of a baby elephant,” Lainey said.

  “I think it will make you more interesting—the beautiful young woman who’s still fragile after bravely giving her baby up for adoption.”

  Lainey made a face into the phone. “Me? Fragile? No one’s going to buy that.”

  “It’s just your character. That’s what they want—people who make good television. And there’s also no way they’d cast you as the evil girl that way.”

  “The evil girl normally gets more airtime,” Lainey pointed out.

  “Yeah, but everyone hates her forever,” Flaca said.

  Lainey’s enthusiasm began to hum again. “I’m totally going to get this. I can feel it. It’s perfect for me.”

  “I know what you mean. As soon as I heard it, I had this weird, like, sixth sense about it.”

  “Thanks, Flaca,” Lainey said gratefully.

  “What have you been up to, girl? I haven’t talked to you in forever.”

  “Same old crap. Still pregnant. Did I tell you India’s teaching me how to take pictures? She gave me a camera to practice with.”

  “You said she was buying you all kinds of stuff.”

  “She didn’t buy it for me. It’s an old one she had around here.”

  “That’s pretty lame,” Flaca said, clearly unimpressed with this haul. “You’re giving her a kid. The least she could do is give you a new camera.”

  “No, I like it. It’s the one India used while she was in school. She said it’s a good camera to learn on,” Lainey said.

  “Now you’re going to be a photographer?” Flaca asked.

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “It’s just kind of weird, don’t you think? It’s not like you’ve ever been interested in cameras before.”

  “So?” Lainey asked defensively. “I can’t try something new?”

  Flaca sighed. “I know you like this chick, but don’t forget, you’re probably never going to hear from her again after you have the baby.”

  “What are you saying? That you think she’s just using me?” Lainey asked aggressively.

  The truth was, she had wondered if this was just what India was doing. Or if not using her, exactly, then humoring her. But it was one thing for her to harbor suspicions, and another altogether for Flaca to give voice to them. It made Lainey feel foolish.

  Flaca was not put off by the hostility in Lainey’s voice. She snorted. “Of course she’s using you. Just like you’re using her. I’m not saying it’s bad, but don’t be stupid. Don’t pretend that it’s something it’s not.”

  “Look, I have to go,” Lainey said abruptly.

  “What, now you’re pissed at me?”

  “No. I just have some work to do.” Lainey didn’t bother telling Flaca about the four rolls of film she’d taken with her borrowed camera when she’d accompanied India to a wedding two days earlier. India had explained that her favorite shots were candid ones taken in natural light—the bride turning to make sure her veil was straight, the groomsmen laughing over their drinks, the flower girl spinning in circles until her skirt ballooned out around her. Lainey had loaded her camera with black-and-white film, and in between helping India keep track of all her cameras and lenses and organizing the wedding party for their formal portraits, Lainey snapped pictures whenever something caught her eye. India didn’t keep a darkroom at the studio, particularly now that so much of her work was done digitally, so they’d dropped off the rolls of film at a local lab that morning. The guy manning the counter had promised her the film would be ready by four.

  Then, remembering the original purpose of her friend’s call, Lainey softened. “Thanks for the info about the casting call.”

  “No problem,” Flaca said. She hesitated. “So you’re really not pissed at me? Because I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “No, we’re good,” Lainey said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  India came in just as Lainey clicked the off button on the phone. Her curls were bunched on the top of her head in
a bun and secured with a pencil. She smiled when she saw Lainey.

  “Did you pick up your prints?” India asked.

  “I was waiting for you to get back. I’ll go over and get them now.”

  “I can’t wait to see them,” India said.

  Lainey nodded, hesitating. She wanted to tell India about the casting call for the reality show, but Flaca’s warnings were ringing in her thoughts. What if India was just pretending to be her friend, humoring her, trying to keep her happy so she didn’t back out of the adoption agreement?

  “Is everything okay?” India asked. When she frowned, vertical lines puckered between her eyes. She nodded toward the phone, which was still in Lainey’s hand. “Did you get some bad news?”

  “No, that was just my friend Flaca.” Lainey hesitated. She wasn’t sure if India would approve of the reality show. But this immediately annoyed her. Who cared if she disapproved? It wasn’t any of India’s business. And when had she, Lainey, ever worried what anyone thought of her?

  “She called to tell me about this casting call they’re having in Miami. For a reality show,” Lainey said abruptly.

  India nodded. “That’s what you’ve been wanting to do.”

  “Yeah. I’m going to the audition.” Lainey felt self-conscious under the weight of India’s gaze. She shrugged and tossed her hair back. “It probably won’t lead to anything—I’ll still be huge—but I might as well try out.”

  “You definitely should.”

  Lainey was startled by India’s enthusiasm. She’d gotten the distinct feeling that India didn’t really approve of her plan to get on a reality show. “Really?”

  “You said this was your dream, right? Well, I firmly believe in following your dreams,” India said. “When’s the audition?”

  “April fifteenth.”

  “Do we have anything on the calendar that day?”

  Lainey flipped a few pages forward in the engagement book. “No, that’s one of the days you wanted to keep open so you could work on the show.”

  “Excellent. Then I’ll take you down there myself.”

  Lainey stared at her. “What?”

  “I’ll drive you down to the audition.”

  Lainey’s eyes narrowed. “Do you just want to keep an eye on me? Are you worried that I’ll get stressed out and go into early labor or something?”

  India looked genuinely surprised. “What? No. I want to give you moral support. And if I do the driving, it will be one less thing you have to worry about.”

  “Oh … okay then,” Lainey said. Then, after an awkward pause, “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” India said. “Now go pick up your prints! I can’t wait to see them.”

  On the morning of the casting call, Lainey and India left while it was still dark out. It had rained overnight, leaving behind a thick veil of water droplets on the car. India was worried about traffic—she said it was always worse when the roads were wet—and Lainey wanted to make sure she’d be near the front of the line of hopefuls. They stopped at a Dunkin’ Donuts drive-thru for muffins, coffee (for India), and orange juice (for Lainey), and then got on I-95 just as the first pink fingers of morning light were creeping into the sky.

  “Are you nervous?” India asked as she sipped her coffee.

  Lainey shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe a little.”

  A small smile played on India’s lips.

  “What?” Lainey asked.

  “I’ve just never heard you admit to any sort of vulnerability before. You’re so stoic. When I first met you, you intimidated me.”

  “I did? Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” India said. “You were just so poised and together. I was never like that when I was your age. You’re a strong person, Lainey. Remember that during your audition. They’d be lucky to get you on their show.”

  Lainey shifted in her seat, uncomfortable under the weight of this praise.

  “How long do you think you’ll be?” India asked.

  “I’m not sure, but Flaca’s wedding is at five o’clock.”

  “So we’ll have to leave by one or two o’clock at the latest,” India said. “Good thing we’re getting there early. Hopefully, you’ll be at the front of the line.”

  “Hopefully,” Lainey repeated.

  She turned to stare out the window. She was too nervous to talk, and after a while, India gave up trying to make conversation. They rode the rest of the way in silence.

  The commuter traffic surging down to Miami slowed their progress, so it was nearly nine in the morning by the time India pulled in front of the Hyatt Regency.

  “I’ll drop you off here and then go look for parking,” India said.

  “No. I don’t want you to wait with me,” Lainey said.

  She busied herself retrieving her Coach handbag from the floor so that she didn’t have to see India’s hurt expression.

  “Are you sure?” India asked. “Because I don’t mind.”

  Lainey nodded. “I’m sure,” she said.

  “Okay. I guess I’ll go over to the Miami Art Museum. They’re having a Charles Cowles exhibit I’ve been hearing good things about. So, you have my cell phone number, right? Just call me when you’re done, and I’ll come get you.”

  Lainey nodded and climbed out of the car.

  “Good luck,” India called after her, but Lainey shut the door without saying a word.

  Lainey waited in line for three hours. The casting call was being held on the second floor of the hotel, and the hallway outside the room where auditions were being held was filled with young hopefuls. Some of the girls had come with friends, and they stood together in loose knots. Others chatted on their cell phones or texted while they waited. After Lainey got her number, she sat on the floor, leaning against the wall to relieve the ache in her lower back.

  A woman with a clipboard called out the numbers one by one. When Lainey’s number was finally called—sixty-seven—she struggled to her feet, trying to ignore the surprised looks the other girls were shooting her. She could hear a few whispered exclamations of “She’s pregnant!” as she passed through the corridor.

  “Right in here,” the woman with the clipboard said as she ushered Lainey into a small conference room.

  The size of the room surprised Lainey. She’d imagined the auditions would be held in a big ballroom with chandeliers and a parquet floor. Instead, it was just a normal, rectangular room, like the one she’d met India and Jeremy in at the lawyer’s office, only without the large conference table. Instead, there was a much smaller folding table set up across the far, short side of the room. Two men and a woman sat behind it, their heads bent together in conversation. Lainey hesitated at the door, but the woman waved to her without looking up and said, “Come on in.”

  Lainey walked in, closing the door behind her.

  “Do you have a head shot?” the younger of the two men asked. He had highlighted hair and a dark goatee and wore a tight-fitting V-neck T-shirt. Lainey guessed he was in his late twenties.

  She was glad India had suggested she bring a head shot. It was a good one, too, she thought. India had taken it at the studio, and then she and Lainey had pored over the proofs to make sure they selected the best picture. India had also urged her to take one of the shots from their first photo session at the beach, back when she was still hardly showing. Lainey was worried that she looked fat in it, but India had insisted it was beautiful and unusual enough to help Lainey stand out from the crowd. The two pictures were in a manila envelope, which Lainey clutched in her hands.

  Goatee Boy and his two associates—the woman had short blonde hair and black-framed glasses; the second man was balding and had a receding chin—finally stopped talking, and looked up at Lainey for the first time. All three gawked at her.

  “Oh, my God! Are you pregnant?” Goatee Boy asked.

  The blonde woman rolled her eyes and sighed impatiently. “The casting call clearly said that we’re looking for single people to live in a house for four months
. You’re wasting our time.”

  “I am single,” Lainey said quickly.

  “Yeah, well, we aren’t looking for new mothers. Thank you. On your way out, please ask the next girl to come in.”

  Lainey could feel the opportunity slipping away, and she grasped for it, panicked that she’d come all this way to be dismissed after two minutes.

  “I’m not going to be a mother. I’m not keeping the baby,” she said quickly. “I’m putting it up for adoption.”

  “Really?” The older man—Lainey thought he looked a bit like a turtle, with his small eyes and chinless face—looked up at her, his eyes thoughtful as they roamed over her body.

  “It doesn’t matter. This is a show about dating, not about getting over postpartum depression,” the blonde woman said.

  “She is very pretty,” Turtle Man said.

  Lainey thought that he was probably the one in charge, for the blonde woman shut up and Goatee Boy narrowed his eyes, examining her with renewed interest.

  “She’d photograph well,” Goatee Boy said. “Her cheekbones are divine.”

  “When’s the baby due?” Blonde Woman asked.

  “June,” Lainey said.

  “That’s two months. And another two more before we start filming,” Turtle Man said.

  “Doesn’t it take most women longer than that to lose the weight?” Blonde Woman said.

  Lainey felt a surge of antagonism toward this woman, with her sharp, judgmental eyes and thin lips.

  “I have a great metabolism,” Lainey said. “I never put on weight. In fact, I have a hard time keeping weight on.”

  This wasn’t exactly true—she’d always exercised like a fiend to avoid getting fat—but it was fun to see the flash of jealousy cross over Blonde Woman’s face. Lainey guessed that Blonde Woman probably had to subsist on turkey and cottage cheese to wedge herself into her size-eight jeans.

  “It could be an interesting plotline,” Goatee Boy said. “The birth mother who’s overcoming the heartbreak of being separated from her child, now looking for love and a second chance. I bet it would resonate with viewers.”

  “It could alienate them,” Blonde Woman argued. “This show is supposed to be glitzy. Hot girls, sexy guys, cool clubs. She’d be a downer.”