by Krista McGee
“All right.” His father nodded.
“Those ten come down here to Orlando for a few weeks of intense auditions.” Dillard made air quotes on the words intense auditions.
“And . . . ?” Mom asked.
“And you guys watch those auditions. You can watch the tapes of their screen tests, see which ones you like.”
“Why can’t we just talk to them personally?” Dad asked.
“We don’t want anyone knowing Chad is starring in this show yet. He’s a hot commodity.” Dillard arched his eyebrows. “We don’t want this news to leak out. We want to make a huge announcement, get it to the big magazines and talk shows at the same time, right before we’re ready to launch the show.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Actually, Mom.” Chad touched her arm. “I like it.”
“Really? Why?”
“We get a chance to see the girls for who they really are. You know how some girls act when they know I’m around.”
Dad nodded. “Good point. If these girls know they’re not just competing for a role on a show, but a role costarring with you on a show, that’s going to be big news. They’ll be acting all the time, trying to get the part.”
“But how much can we really learn about the girls by watching their screen tests?” Mom asked.
Mr. Dillard scratched his head. “How about this: We tape the audition process. All of it—the screen tests, the girls sitting around together, getting to know each other, working on sketches of their own. You could see more of them and we could turn that into a TV show that could be aired in the weeks leading up to the first show.”
The woman next to Chad jumped in. “That’s a great idea. You could build up the suspense, give the girl a fan base before we even start.”
“And if we keep our October start date, we can get the shots of the auditions edited and ready to go in September. One show a week, leading up to the big reveal at the end. That, alongside the media blitz we have planned—” Dillard slapped his hand on the table, causing sheets of paper to fly upward. “I love it. This is brilliant. We’ll start out with an audience of millions.”
Dad lifted a hand to halt the merriment. “But I still don’t see how watching girls audition allows us to really get to know their characters.”
“Come on, work with me, Beacon,” Dillard growled.
“Flora.” Chad grinned.
The network executives and Chad’s parents all looked at him like he had grown a second head.
“Sorry,” Chad said. “Flora is our assistant. She’s like family. But she’s never been on TV with us.”
“Absolutely refuses to even have her picture taken,” Dad said.
“Exactly.” Chad’s voice rose as he continued. “None of the girls would know she’s connected with us. She could hang around and get to know them, and then she could give us her firsthand impressions.”
“That’s a great idea,” Mom said.
“How do you expect to explain her presence with the girls?” Mr. Dillard asked. “Just have some random woman walking around behind them? That won’t work.”
Mom leaned forward. “The girls will be in a house together, right? While they’re auditioning?”
“Yes, I suppose,” Mr. Dillard muttered.
“Then Flora could be the housemother. You’ll need an adult supervising them anyway. I can vouch for Flora. She’s been working for us for more than twenty years.”
Mr. Dillard looked around the table. “I guess that could work. But are you sure she’ll want to do it?”
Chad smiled. “Flora loves trying new things.”
“That she does.” Dad laughed.
“Well, all right. We’ll get the auditions under way. Give us a month or so to narrow down our top ten, then we’ll bring your Flora in.”
“Okay, Mr. Dillard.” Chad shook the executive’s large hand. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
Chapter 2
Seventeen-year-old Kara McKormick hung up the phone and screamed. And screamed. Her mother came in from the backyard, screaming.
“Kara.” She panted, slamming the back door as she rushed to her daughter. “What’s the matter? What happened? Are you all right?”
“Yes, I—” Kara screamed again, hugging her mother and dancing around the kitchen. “Ma, you’ll never believe this.” Kara started to scream again, and her mother placed a firm hand over her mouth.
“Kara, my ears are bleeding, you’re so loud. Take a deep breath and tell me what’s got you so excited.”
She removed her hand from Kara’s mouth with a warning look. Kara bit her tongue and jumped up and down. “Okay, Ma,” she said, still jumping. “I have been chosen to . . .” Kara stopped midsentence, her mouth frozen.
“Kara Elaine McKormick.” Hands on her hips, she stared at her daughter. “Do not scream. What are you, five? Just tell me. Quickly, before you explode.”
“I get to audition for a TV show that’s just for teens on a network that lets its stars help write the scripts and the songs and plan the publicity. And this show is going to be the first one, the big one, and they’re investing lots of money into it, so it’ll be huge and they want me to audition. Me, Ma.” Kara stopped to breathe—something she hadn’t done the entire time she had been explaining the phone call to her mother.
“You’re auditioning for a show?”
“Not just any show, Ma,” Kara said, still catching her breath. “A huge show. Major.”
“That’s great, sweetie.” Her mother opened the fridge and pulled out a can of soda. “So when are the auditions? ”
“I don’t know.”
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know.” Kara grabbed the countertop to keep herself steady. “I was so excited, I didn’t ask. Oh no. This is terrible. It’s all over. Why didn’t I ask?”
Ma opened the soda and handed it to Kara. “Think back to the phone call. Who called?”
“Okay, it was, um, it was a man . . .”
“All right, a man called and he said . . . ?”
“He saw me on The Book of Love and thought I had spunk.”
“He’s right about that.” Ma rubbed Kara’s back. “Then what did he say?”
“He asked if I was interested in auditioning. I said yes. He asked if I could come into the city for auditions. I said yes.”
“Did he say when to come in or where?” Ma continued rubbing Kara’s back and Kara took a deep breath. “He said he’d call with more information in the next few days.”
“All right, then.” Her mother squeezed Kara’s shoulders. “I knew we’d figure it out. So we’ll wait for the phone call and get you into the city. You’ll audition, they’ll love you, and you’ll be on TV.”
“Ma.” Kara shook her head, her long auburn ponytail swaying. “It’s not that easy.”
“People already love you.” Ma reached up to push a stray lock of hair from Kara’s cheek. “How could they not?”
“I need to call Addy.”
Addy Davidson and Kara had been roommates on a reality TV show just a few months before. Neither had won the competition to be the president’s son’s prom date, but they had come away from the experience close friends. Addy, while not winning the date, had won the boy, and Kara enjoyed teasing her friend about the budding romance. Addy denied any such thing, saying that she and Jonathon were still “praying” about their relationship. But Kara knew better. She also knew that Addy would be thrilled about this audition. Kara picked up her cell phone and punched in Addy’s number.
“What do I want more than anything in the world? ” Kara asked as soon as Addy finished her “Hello.”
“Nice to talk to you too, Kara.” Addy laughed. “And yes, I’m doing just fine, thanks for asking.”
“No time for chitchat. Careers are being forged. Lives are being changed. Destinies are unfolding.”
“What was the question again?”
Kara could imagine Addy’s sideways
smile as she spoke. “What do I want more than anything else in the world? ”
“To come visit me in Florida.”
“Addy Davidson. This is no time for sarcasm.”
“All right, fine.” Addy cleared her throat. “My friend Kara McKormick wants, more than anything in the world, to be an actress.”
“You are correct, madam. And your friend is getting that opportunity because she has been chosen to audition for a new teen variety show on a brand-new teen network.”
“And my friend is talking in third person because . . . ? ” Addy asked.
“Did you hear me? I’m auditioning for a TV show. A teen show. Me.” Kara jumped up and down again. Her mother, rolling out pizza dough on the counter, shook her head, smiling.
“That is fantastic, Kara,” Addy said. “I’m happy for you.”
She walked to the alcove beside the kitchen and sat in front of the computer, typing New Teen Television Network into the search engine.
“It’s a variety show, Addy. Comedy—which you know is my specialty.”
“Definitely.”
“Also some music and dancing and . . .” Kara stopped and screamed.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry, but I just typed in information about the network. And guess what I found?”
“They’re looking for a tall redhead to star on its variety show?”
“Well, that, of course, goes without saying.” Kara laughed. “But guess where this new network is located?”
“Kalamazoo?”
“Addy.” Kara’s “mom” voice took over. “Don’t make me put you in time-out. A real guess.”
“Tampa.”
“Close.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Kara said. “Orlando. The network is in Orlando. How far is that from you?”
“About an hour. I could see you all the time.”
“If I make it.” Kara’s voice returned to its normal decibel level. “There are probably a million girls trying out.”
“But there’s only one Kara McKormick.”
“That’s true. I really want this. I mean really, really want it.”
“I’ll be praying it works out,” Addy said.
“You know I don’t believe in that.” Kara walked to her bedroom.
“That’s all right. I do.”
“Positive thoughts are always good,” Kara said. “You form yours into prayers, and mine will be directed toward the gods of television.”
“Does the McKormick clan know yet?”
“Just Ma.” Kara lay down on her bed. “But it won’t take long. As soon as she tells Pop, the rest of my family will know within an hour.”
Kara’s large, blended family consisted of five older siblings, four of whom were married with kids. They all lived on Long Island, and when they were all together—which occurred at least once a month—the house shook with noise and laughter.
“Well, I better let you go enjoy the silence. It won’t last long.”
Chapter 3
Mwuah, mwuah.”
“Bbbbbbbbb, bbbbbbbbb.”
“To sit in solemn silence in a dull, dark box . . .”
Ma looked at the throng of girls packed into the sound-stage, then she looked at her daughter. “What are they doing, Kara?”
“Warming up. We learned this in acting class. You have to get all your facial muscles limber. It helps with enunciation and expression.”
“It looks pretty silly to me.”
Kara surveyed the mass of girls. There must be five hundred girls here. They all look like they could star in a TV show. These girls have probably been acting since they were in diapers.
“Kara, you’re nervous.” Ma looked at her with a frown. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous.”
“No, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got this.”
“Look over there.” Ma pointed to a table with a Line 1 sign taped on its side. A dozen girls waited as two women scanned through sheaves of paper, handed out stickers, and pointed them to Line 2. “I guess that’s where we start.”
Kara and Ma stood behind a girl about Kara’s age. That can’t be her mother. Kara eyed the stunning twentysomething woman standing beside the girl.
“The audition starts right now,” the woman whispered to the girl. “You’ve got to own it right from the start. Show them you aren’t intimidated. Stand up straight, look them in the eye, and shake their hands. Make sure you thank them for the opportunity. But don’t grovel.”
An agent? Kara panicked. She has an agent?
Kara looked around the soundstage. Am I the only loser who came with her mother? Everyone else has an agent or manager or, what is that, a whole entourage?
Kara watched as the girls in front of her gave their names to the ladies at the table and received a number. A few girls were turned away.
“This is not a cattle call,” one of the ladies at the table said. “You have to have been invited to this audition. You weren’t.”
The girl who had brought her agent along—or vice versa—walked away in tears.
“Go ahead, dear,” Ma said when it was Kara’s turn at the front table. “This is my daughter, Kara. She’s the best. You’re gonna love her.”
“Ma.” Kara’s face burned. Her mother meant well, but she looked like an old lady, with her gray hair and her sensible shoes. All the other girls were with “power women.” And I’m with “super granny.”
She turned to the lady in front of her. “Kara McKormick. Kara with a K.”
The lady flipped through a stack of papers with her perfectly manicured acrylics. “From The Book of Love, right? ”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kara smiled.
“I loved the monologue you performed during the talent competition. It was very funny.” The woman highlighted Kara’s name on the list and gave her a sticker with the number 414 on it. “I’ve got you down. Now go over to line two and get your script. Good luck.”
Kara and Ma once again stood behind a young woman and her beautiful agent. The agent turned around. Her hair was brown with reddish highlights, and her makeup appeared professionally applied.
“I knew you looked familiar.” She extended her hand to Kara. “Sharon Sanders. I followed The Book of Love closely. I assumed some other agent already snatched you up.” The agent looked at Ma with a frown. “Obviously, I was wrong.”
“My daughter doesn’t need an agent. She’s a teenager. All she needs is me and her father. That’s what I told the other folks that called up, and that’s what I’m telling you.”
Kara turned to her mother. “What other folks, Ma? ”
“Folks like her—agents who want you to make money for them. I’ve read about them in the magazines. Poor girls get sucked in by their lies and then leave their parents and end up on drugs.” Ma glared at the agent. “You’re not getting your hands on my Kara.”
Kara looked from her mother to the agent, stunned. The agent smiled and pulled a card from her purse. “I understand your concern, Mrs. McKormick. There are some agents like that. But I believe in family. I hope to have many children someday. My agency involves parents in every aspect of the decision-making process. So if you change your mind, please give me a call.”
Ma looked at the card as if it were a poisonous snake. The girl standing beside the agent looked at Kara as if she were the poisonous snake. Kara took the card, put it in her back pocket, and thanked the agent.
When they left the second line, Ma put a protective arm around Kara. “I want you to throw that card out. I don’t care what she said. Those agents are bad news. I don’t want you turning out like those girls in the magazines.”
“But, Ma, she just wanted to help.” Kara looked back at the agent. She was coaching her client, giving her hints, showing her how to stand and move her hands. “If I’m going to be an actress, I’ll eventually have to get an agent.”
“Who says?” Ma stood up straight.
“Everybody.” Kara motioned around
the room. “If I don’t get a part on this show, will you let me get an agent? ”
“You are too young to have an agent.”
“I’m seventeen, Ma.” Kara rolled her eyes. “And it’s an agent, not a pimp.”
“Kara McKormick.” Ma lowered her voice. “Don’t you say words like that. See, this is what I was talking about. You just have an agent’s card and your mouth is already filthy.”
“I’ve got to look over this script.” Kara sighed, pointing to the black folder the man at the second table had given her. “And since I don’t have an agent, you have to read with me.”
The soundstage was packed, so Kara guided her mother to a corner where they could have a semblance of privacy while still being able to hear the loudspeaker announcing the numbers.
“I’m not good at the drama,” Ma said. “Your pop should have come. He’s better at that.”
Kara laughed. “That’s for sure. But Pop’s at work, so you’ll have to stand in.” Kara opened the folder. “Sit next to me so we can read together. You’re And and I’m But.”
Ma looked over at her. “Excuse me?”
“Ma.” Kara pointed to the first page. “The script. We’re at Conjunction Malfunction, see? I’m the conjunction But.”
“I don’t know if I’m going to like this.” Ma’s gray curls shook.
Kara and her mother read through the script.
“That was perfect, sweetie.” Ma pulled a pack of cheese crackers from her purse. “Want one? I brought some juice too.” Ma reached back into her purse, dubbed “the corner market” by Kara’s siblings.
“No, Ma.” Kara pushed the crackers away. “That was just a read-through, so I’ll know what the skit is about. Now I need to practice really saying the lines.”
“What are you talking about?” Ma closed the magnetic latch on her purse. “You just said the lines.”
“Yes, but I need to get into character. You know, try some different accents, choose which words to emphasize.”
“You can’t just say the words?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Kara looked over her lines again, trying to commit them to memory. “I love being able to create a character.”
