by Sophie Lee
Nick handed her his and poured the contents of a paper bag onto the bed. She wanted to hug him. 'My goodness, are we starting our own drugstore?' she asked in amazement, sawing at the top of the Evian bottle.
'Can you believe the variety of shit they have here?' he said, lining up the products. 'Anyway, look, I got you drowsy, non-drowsy, herbal, full-strength. Take your pick. I would gargle with this first, though.' He picked out a small brown bottle. 'According to the young lady at the store, it's the best remedy for sore throats.'
'Great,' she replied, removing the jagged plastic top from her makeshift vase, and placing the flowers inside it. She looked around for somewhere to display them, finally deciding on the bedside table. She took a small step back to admire them.
'Pass it over,' she asked, gratefully reaching for the medicine. She squeezed past Nick to the tiny bathroom and read the label on the bottle. 'I just need to make sure it doesn't have ginkgo or guarana in it, and I'll be fine.' She poured the brown liquid into the measuring cup provided, tipped back her head and began to gargle while Nick flicked through the screenplay.
'Do they really have John Malkovich for this?' he asked, sounding impressed. Alice leaned over the sink and spat out brown liquid.
'Apparently so,' she replied, wiping her mouth with a face-washer. 'Amazing, isn't it?' She returned to the bed and sat cross-legged, opposite him. 'Let's get this over with so we can order a pizza with jalapeno chillies and drink some of that wine,' she said, determined to ignore the fact that she felt seriously under-par.
Nick looked thoughtfully at her now lopsided ponytail.
'You're cute, Alice,' he said finally, and reached forward to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen across her face.
Alice looked fixedly at the bedspread. 'Thanks, Nick.'
'What page?' he asked, and reached forward to tweak her left foot. Alice squeaked. She flicked to scene forty-three. 'Right, in this scene you're an irate customer in the balloon shop,' she said. 'Okay?'
'Okay,' he said cautiously. 'But you don't need me to act now, do you?' He held the script gingerly and looked at her with concern.
'God, no! Just read all the lines that aren't Colleen. That's all. See how I've highlighted mine with fluoro texta?' Alice smiled at him. 'Thanks for doing this, Nick. You're a good bloke, you know that?'
'Ya, sure, that's what they keep telling me,' he shrugged. 'Okay, let's see now.' He assumed a slightly high-pitched voice. 'The balloons you delivered were brown! Is there any occasion that befits the delivery of one hundred brown balloons? We said berry balloons. Berry. Not brown.'
'I'm sorry, sir, brown balloons are very in-vogue at the moment. Was the recipient displeased?' said Alice as Colleen.
'Well, considering he's just had a bowel operation, it was most inappropriate.' Nick stopped and laughed. 'This is mental!' he said, shaking his head.
'It's out there, alright,' Alice sighed. 'From the top again?'
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Re: Lithium
Prepare scenes 43 and 55. Colleen's role may expand in a third draft. You're looking good for this one, Alice. It's practically in the bag. Good luck. Audition at 10 am, Zippy Goldman Casting, North Beverly Boulevard.
(Address and Yahoo map attached.)
Love Rebekah
At 8.30 am, Alice was woken by Spanish chatter and the clunk of a housekeeping cart. She felt disoriented. Checking under the covers, she realised she must have fallen asleep fully clothed under the influence of red wine and a powerful drowsy decongestant. The airconditioning had exacerbated her cold symptoms and she was finding it difficult to breathe.
Alice crept into the tiny bathroom – cheerfully decorated with tiles the colour of egg yolks – and tried to loosen the phlegm in her nasal passages. She ran the taps for the sake of decorum.
'Its okay, Alice, I'm awake. Just go ahead and blow your nose or whatever,' Nick called from the bed. 'Sure, you've been snoring all night.'
Alice stuck her head out of the bathroom door. 'Oh, ride-oh,' she sniffed. 'In fact, I'll get the shower rudding. Steam does wudders, you dow.' She turned back to the mirror. Her hair was a mass of fluff and her nose was red.
'Maybe Colleen could have lesbian flu or something,' Nick suggested, sleepily.
Alice blew her nose on some toilet paper. 'Well, everyone knows that lesbians get the worst head-colds.' Alice stared at herself reproachfully in the mirror. She felt ridiculous having packed her pyjamas only to have passed out just after the pizza arrived. What must Nick think of her? Her lips were cracked. She had a sizeable makeup challenge ahead.
'Honestly, it's fine,' she said, talking fast to cover her insecurity. 'I've been on stage with flu before. You just need a smear of Vicks Vapor Rub up your nose and off you go. Clears the sinuses for hours.'
'Sadly, I don't think they stocked that particular Australian tonic at the drugstore,' Nick called back, ferreting through the impressive pile of flu medicine on the bedside table.
'I never travel without it,' Alice replied, procuring it from her makeup bag and waving the small green jar triumphantly. She figured she would carry on as though everything was normal. Well, as normal as it could be, considering she was ill, in Hollywood, in an Irishman's hotel room, and about to audition for her ex-boyfriend. 'Now, don't mind me, I'm going to do a vocal warm-up in the shower.'
'Sure, whatever, you know, floats yer boat, girl. I'm going to step out and rustle us up some breakfast.' He sounded relaxed, as though he were taking everything in his stride. 'You can't audition for a miserly little creep on an empty stomach now, can you?' Nick stepped over the detritus from the night before and opened the door. 'Back soon.'
Alice got the shower running and started steaming her vocal chords. She focused on the audition ahead, feeling her adrenalin kick in as she did so. She attempted a humming exercise to clear the debris in her throat and settle her nerves. The thought of facing Conrad in an audition situation with a whole lot of Hollywood heavyweights had her tingling – and not in a good way. It felt as though needles and safety pins had lodged in her nerve-endings. Even her bladder felt funny. Alice focused hard on humming away these unpleasant sensations. By the time Nick returned with breakfast and a copy of Variety she was unblocked, dressed and made up, determined to put her best foot forward.
'Well, you certainly scrub up, Alice Evans,' Nick commented, opening the brown paper bag that contained their breakfast. He spread cream cheese on a bagel. 'Coffee?' he offered, gesturing towards a tall white paper cup he had set down on the table beside the door. 'Sorry, I do know pancakes are your favourite but I couldn't remember where the best ones came from. I had a feeling you'd baulk at the McDonald's variety.'
'You got that right,' she nodded. 'This is great, Nick, thank you.'
Alice picked up Variety and stared at the front page. There was a large feature article about Angelina Jolie, who was pictured smiling beatifically down the camera lens, presumably after receiving tremendous news. She set the paper down and crossed to the small table by the door, removed the lid from the white container and absentmindedly poured the contents of a sugar sachet into her coffee.
'You okay, Alice?' asked Nick.
Alice paused. 'A bit nervous, I guess . . .' She could feel herself flushing with colour. She swallowed. 'Nick,' she said stirring her sugar, deciding there wasn't enough, and opening another sachet, 'I don't actually remember falling asleep. Did you, um . . .?' she stopped stirring and turned to him with the coffee in her hand.
'Sure, I tucked you in and all, Alice,' he said lightly. 'Why?'
'I'm sorry, Nick. It wasn't the most romantic evening after all, what with the head-cold and the line-learning and the . . .'
'Don't worry,' he soothed. 'Plenty of time to celebrate after the audition, right?' He didn't seem put out, thought Alice, but she found it hard to read his tone.
'Sorry,' she said again.
'It's fine, Alice.'
'Right.' She grinned and checked her watch. 'Ninefifteen. Time for one more line-run before I go off and nail this thing?' She crossed over to the breakfast he had laid out on the bed.
'Sure. I'm thinking of auditioning for angry balloon shop client myself.' A dollop of cream cheese had caught in his stubble.
'You'd be perfect,' Alice replied, leaning forward and gently wiping it off with a paper napkin. 'The way you pitch it vocally is excellent.'
'Huh?' Nick looked sceptical.
'God, these bagels are awesome,' said Alice, swooning over a moist, chewy mouthful.
Zippy Goldman's office was on the third floor of a coffee-coloured art deco building in a pleasant section of Beverly Boulevard. Alice had miraculously nabbed a parking spot right out front, filled the meters on all sides for good measure, and now sat by a flourishing potted palm in the soothing interior of the waiting room. The walls were the precise shade of clotted cream and made Alice hungry for her mother's scones. It was 9.55 am.
Conrad had been good to his word in promising her the first audition time. Her Vicks Vapor Rub lay nestled in the pocket of her satchel for decongestion emergencies. Content she was completely alone, Alice retrieved her compact from her makeup bag for final checks. She made sure she looked up her nose, and checked that all signs of redness had been concealed. Satisfied she looked clear-eyed and in good health, she placed the compact back in her bag and had a final look at the script.
She felt no need to revise Colleen's lines; she was confident she had them down pat. Instead, she turned once again to Maisie's monologue and began to make notes with a small pencil.
At 10.15, she was beginning to wonder whether she had come to the right place when a woman with a large nose and gold hair emerged from a room on Alice's left. She wore big gold earrings and jangled as she walked. If they were ever looking to cast someone in the role of the sun, Zippy would be perfect. As the door opened, Alice heard a number of men all talking at once. She sniffed violently to make sure her sinuses were clear and stood up in readiness to audition.
'Hey, Alice, I'm Zippy, come on back,' welcomed the casting woman, gripping her firmly by the elbow. 'What a gorgeous dress! That rose pattern is so adorable.' She threw up her hands in mock despair. 'Don't tell me, it's by an Australian designer I won't be able to get my hands on!'
Alice smiled. 'It is actually, but thank you very much for the compliment.'
'So polite!' she shouted to the enormous number assembled in the casting room ahead. 'Adorable!' She steered Alice into the centre of the room.
It was the largest audition space she had encountered so far, and tastefully furnished. The walls were tinted light brown and the sea grass carpet appeared new. It was crisp underfoot. Zippy's affairs were all in order in a tall set of timber shelves. Alice would not have been at all surprised to learn that Zippy moonlighted as a feng-shui instructor.
This was certainly the biggest crew she'd had to audition for in her entire career, including the ill-fated casting for the non-singing character in a Sydney musical a couple of years back. Conrad stood up and cleared his throat. He looked slim and shiny and radiated talent. Alice felt her heart thump painfully and forced herself to appear bright and casual and professional, all at once. She cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow in a way that she hoped would make her look both poised and ready for action. She could feel mucus dripping down the back of her throat. She swallowed and her ears clicked inside her skull with such force she was sure the others must have heard.
Conrad was wearing a baseball cap. Alice had never seen him wear one before and was sure it was somehow tied in to his new incarnation as Hollywood auteur. He spoke smoothly and with authority. 'Alice, hey, how are you? Like you to meet some people,' he began. 'This is Kevin, this is Akiva, this is Israel Goldman, Marty Sachs, Ron Sussman, Bitsy Freidman and Elijah Schwartzman.' Alice thought Conrad looked slightly uncomfortable in his cap, as if he were trying on a new style that didn't quite gel. There were still several people whose names he had omitted. She could see Brandon by the Mercedes Benz of all coffee machines, smiling sadly at her dress.
'See if you can remember all of those!' challenged Zippy. She was a large, happy woman and wore her glasses low on her nose.
'Oh,' said Alice, 'you mean, Kevin, Akiva, Israel, Marty, Ron, Bitsy and Elijah?'
A couple of the assembled men clapped and Zippy slapped her knee. 'I swear, these Aussies!'
Alice felt a little like a performing seal and controlled her instinct to clap herself too.
Conrad looked pleased or relieved, but also uncomfortable, as though he wanted to get through the audition without incident. 'Well, why don't we get started, Alice, I've told everyone all about you,' he said, looking at her meaningfully. 'We're really looking forward to seeing this,' he added, waving his script. 'Right?'
'Ready when you are,' she replied evenly, and put down her satchel.
'Nice dress, Alice,' said Conrad quietly, as Zippy tweaked the camera.
He was close to her and she felt a thousand unsaid things painfully trapped in her throat. 'Thanks, Conrad.'
'But is it Colleen?' He smiled widely and wrinkled his nose, as if something smelled, then shook his head. Alice read the word Arri on his cap. She recognised it as a brand of camera equipment.
'Zippy likes it,' Alice answered, gathering her script pages.
'We ready, gang?' Zippy began, stepping forward. 'Alice, I'll be your reader, okay?'
'Sure,' Alice replied, putting her own script pages down onto the floor. She looked at Conrad and bowed her head in deference. What she was about to do would not require anyone to read opposite.
13
'That is not said right,' said the Caterpillar. 'Not quite right, I'm afraid,' said Alice timidly, 'some of the words have got altered.'
'It is wrong from beginning to end,' said the Caterpillar decidedly, and there was silence for some minutes.
Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
The room was silent as Conrad called 'action'. The suits sat forward eagerly on their seats. Alice looked up for a moment and caught sight of Brandon tapping away on his Blackberry at the back of the room.
'The balloons you delivered were brown!' exclaimed Zippy, as the irate customer. 'Is there any occasion that befits the delivery of one hundred brown balloons? We said berry balloons. Berry. Not brown.'
Alice was silent.
Zippy cleared her throat and gave the feed line again.
'We said berry balloons. Berry. Not brown.'
Alice remained silent.
'Alice?' Zippy asked finally. 'That's you, sweetie. You have your lines down, don't you?'
Alice could feel herself vibrating with the force of what was coming. 'I do, Zippy, I know the part of Colleen back to front and sideways. But here's the thing.' She looked up and clearly addressed the whole room as though she were a public speaker in the town hall. 'I'm not Colleen, you know.' She paused. 'But . . . I am the best fit for Maisie you'll ever meet. Are you still rolling, Zippy?' Alice felt her adrenalin surge as she took control of the audition space.
'Scene fifty-five. Alcoholics Anonymous Meeting. Action.' She fell silent in order to focus. Alice decided to skip the interaction between Maisie and Colleen, which would have been altogether too strange, and launched straight into the monologue.
'Hi, I'm Maisie and I'm an alcoholic addict.' Alice's voice sounded clear and strong in her own ears, yet laced with the requisite undercurrent of desperation that both she, Alice, was feeling, and that she was quite sure she had in common with Maisie. 'This is my first day sober and it hurts like hell.' The room was utterly still. Alice looked around the imaginary church hall at the other imaginary addicts holding their imaginary cups of instant coffee. She could feel tears begin to prickle at the back of her throat. 'I ran over a dog when I was buzzed last night and that makes one more goddamned thing I have to atone for . . .'
The monologue was off to a great start. She switched gears,
delving deeper into her emotional reservoirs to gather intensity. 'I've been awake all night, just praying for 9 am to roll around so I could get to this meeting and be here with you all. I swear, this is the only place I've felt safe.' Alice rocked back and forth to harness Maisie's pain. 'My friend, Colleen, brought me here today, and thank God she arranged to pick me up. See, after I ran down that dog, I crashed my car into a pole out front of my apartment and I haven't had the heart to arrange for its removal.'
Alice was vaguely aware of rumblings from the back of the room, but was so involved in Maisie's world, it took a while for her to realise that several of the older men in her audience were less than pleased with her unorthodox decision to change characters.
'. . . waste of my fucking time, Conrad, this girl is cuckoo. Didn't you tell her that Maisie is as good as . . .?' one of them was saying.
'I did, of course I did,' Conrad stammered. 'What the fuck,' he said, under his breath. Alice had never heard him lose control in a professional context before, and a part of her was glad to see him crack. He stepped forward and called 'cut'. Alice paid no heed and kept on at a louder volume. She merely imagined that the other addicts were trying to prevent her from having her say. Alice wondered if this was what it was like to be insane.
'I had my first drink, age seven,' she proclaimed loudly, 'while my mom worked the nightshift of her second job cleaning airport bathrooms. There was no one to say "Put down the bottle, Maisie . . ."'
'Somebody call security, for fuck's sake,' Marty muttered. 'Get this fruitloop out of here and let's move on.'
'I've got it under control,' Conrad said, stepping forward and turning off the camera. Zippy looked shocked and moved aside.
'Shit, Alice. Stop!' Conrad hissed.
Alice continued doggedly with the speech. She now felt as though she were in a theatre sports competition with a very surly audience, and that the buzzer would go off at any moment, signifying her time was up.
'. . . except for my aunt, of course. Aunt Peggy was a glue-sniffer from way back, and she happened to be my babysitter, so you can imagine . . .' She was aware that Conrad was now manhandling her, forcibly removing her from Zippy's casting office. She shouted random words back over her shoulder as he steered her toward the door.
