Chapter Two
"Owen, please," Peri begged. "I have to make this audition. Let me go, and I'll forego my Christmas bonus."
"I don't give Christmas bonuses," Owen snapped.
"That's what you always say," Peri countered. "And every year, you slip us a little red envelope with a hundred-dollar bill inside. By the way, we're out of Ethiopian Yirgacheffe."
"It's on order," Owen said automatically.
Peri followed the Rush Hour owner-manager into the storage room, where he proceeded to rip open a box of custom-made china filters.
He glanced up. "You're on the clock, and we've got a line of customers going out to the sidewalk."
Peri pleaded with her big brown eyes. "If I leave right now, I can make it on time."
Owen sighed defeat. "I need to find some slackers with zero ambition. This is killing my schedule. Everyone here wants to be an actor."
"Actually, that's not true," Peri said, ripping off her Rush Hour smock. "Angela wants to be a dancer, Julie wants to be a singer, and Louie's working on a screenplay." She made a dash for the door, then suddenly halted. "You didn't take my offer to give up the Christmas bonus seriously, did you? Because I'm broke and was really counting on it."
Owen waved her off without eye contact.
Peri took that as a yes, raced to grab her tote bag and weekend carryall, bundled up, and clocked out. She weaved in and out of cranky customer bodies to reach the exit door.
Once her feet hit the sidewalk, she experienced a thrilling sense of freedom and lurched forward to get a good running start. But merely a few strides into her escape, she crashed into a hard body and went down fast on the cold concrete.
"Peri?"
For a moment, she was dazed. And then she saw Chase McCloud kneeling down in front of her, reaching out both hands to help her up. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, embarrassed, feeling like a clumsy fool and horrified to see the contents of her tote bag littered along the sidewalk. Did the entire population of New York really need to see her past-due notice from Providian Visa and know that this week's train reading was The Stud by Jackie Collins?
"Is the coffeehouse on fire or something?" Chase asked with a laugh as he piloted her to the standing position. "You almost mowed me down."
Funny he should ask about fire, as his touch was burning through the thick fabric of her winter wear. Peri smiled apologetically, watching in helpless wonder as Chase solicitously bent down to retrieve her wind-strewn belongings.
He came across the latest issue of Back Stage. It was folded back to the film and television casting pages, a single notice circled in red marker. He looked up at her, beaming. "You're going for it. Good for you."
"I know," Peri said excitedly. "I'm auditioning for your show in, like, twenty minutes!"
Chase moved fast to collect the rest of her things. "Then you better take off. I'll put in a good word when I get to the set. My first call isn't until noon." He transferred the tote bag and weekender back to her. "Good luck."
"Thanks," Peri said, almost breathlessly.
All of a sudden, Chase let out a piercing whistle and hailed a cab. He shoved some cash at the driver and said, "Take this lady to Chelsea Piers, number sixty-two," before ushering her into the rear cabin and shutting the door. He smacked the hood with his gloved palm, and the taxi took off.
Peri watched the events unfold in some kind of awestruck daze, deliriously hopeful for the future, totally amazed that these random star sightings were developing into a real connection, and completely unaware that her list of top five sexual fantasies had just blown onto Chase McCloud's foot.
Peri did a quick change in the backseat. Off went the thrift-shop coat. On went the caramel herringbone seamed jacket with flutter sleeves. Good-bye Old Navy cargo pants. Hello matching flat-front slacks with wide legs. Luckily, the black turtleneck she routinely wore to Rush Hour could stay. When she fastened the three big buttons of the snug-fitting jacket, the hot-milk stain was completely covered up. Taking a deep breath, she fingered her grandmother's iridescent starburst brooch for good luck.
A terrible fear lanced her brain. Shoes! Frantically, she unzipped the weekend bag. There were the dark-chocolate nappa leather boots. Relief flooded through her bloodstream. For a moment, Peri thought her entire audition had just ended before it began. After all, how could she show up for the role of a no-nonsense legal eagle in a battered pair of Uggs?
The driver stopped at Pier 62.
Peri swung out and made a dash for the entrance, the cold breeze coming off the Hudson fighting her the whole way. But she won that battle. It was the next one that would be impossible to win. Lined up in the gray-carpeted hallway were what looked to be hundreds of women just like her—dressed to prosecute and desperate for a speaking part on a hit television series.
She slumped against the wall at the end of the queue, feeling her hope of success fade as quickly as her labored breathing from the sprint.
The statuesque blonde beside Peri gave her a glance that translated into "What are you doing here?"
As Peri studied the competition, she began asking herself the same question. It was wall-to-wall beautiful women, longer legs, bigger breasts, better clothes. And unlike Peri, they weren't afraid to do the low-cut blouse, the tight skirt, anything to ratchet up the sensuality.
A fresh-faced girl who looked young enough to be a college intern emerged from an office and started down the line, passing out a single script page as she said, "You're reading for the part of Elise Mills. Please have your, head shots and résumés ready. We'll get to you as soon as we can. Thank you for coming."
Peri cooled her heels for almost two hours before her turn arrived. She stepped into the room to find two women and one man seated behind a table, looking weary and unimpressed.
"I'm Peri Knight," she muttered, punctuating the announcement with a nervous laugh. "Here's my head shot and résumé." With great awkwardness, she placed the pages on the edge of the table and returned to the center of the room.
One of the women scanned her résumé. The expression on her face told the world she'd just tasted something bad. "No television experience?"
"No," Peri answered apologetically. "I've had several callbacks for commercials, though. So … almost." Her nervous laugh returned for an encore.
"We're casting for Elise Mills today," the other woman launched in robotically. "She's assistant D.A., very confident, very sexy, a take-no-prisoners attitude."
Peri nodded to the beat of each character trait, even as she realized that none of them had ever been used to describe her. She took a deep breath. Okay. So this is why they called it acting.
The man spoke up for the first time. "And just as an aside—this bit of background might inspire a different spin on your reading. Elise has a personal history with the Bingo character. They slept together once, and he never called. Now they're forced to work one-on-one to prep his testimony for a lawsuit against the crime lab."
"Does this mean I'll be reading with Chase McCloud?" Peri asked. Her heart took off while she waited for the answer.
"Not today," the first woman answered. "Chase will be reading only with the final three."
"Okay," the other woman cut in. "Ready when you are."
Peri glanced at the page of script, sucked in a terrified breath, and shut her eyes for a moment, working hard to channel the spirit of Heather Locklear from Melrose Place. What would Amanda's body language be? How would Amanda say it?
Suddenly inspired, Peri stalked toward the table and delivered her reading directly to the man. "I'm not here to bust your balls, Brett. I'm here to save your ass. It's your team's shoddy work that put what should be a nuisance case on the fast track to trial. I'm guessing you're not the kind of man who'd take advice from a woman, especially one that didn't breast-feed you. But here goes. Try worrying less about my attitude and more about your resident cowboy's. Christopher Dockett is one of the top plaintiff's attorneys in the country. I wouldn't want
to be cross-examined by him about what I ate for breakfast. Meanwhile, Bingo's walking around like this is a small claims matter in Judge Judy's court." She stepped closer to the table and lowered her voice for emphasis. "If this goes the wrong way, Brett, the award could easily go double-digit millions. That'll be a nice footnote for your career."
Peri stopped. Suddenly, she was out of her Elise Mills zone and aware of her surroundings again. She glanced down at the script page. "Um … should I read the next part?"
The casting team exchanged a series of odd looks, then turned back to Peri, seemingly regarding her in a whole new light.
"I like her," the first woman said. "We've had a parade of supersexy types file in here, but I actually believe that she's a lawyer."
"She knows she has a brain," the second woman added. "And she doesn't advertise sexy to get attention."
"Which in and of itself is sexy," the man put in. "She's pretty in an accessible way."
"Women will like her for that," the first woman agreed.
"So will men," the man pointed out. "The Sports Illustrated swimsuit model is what we fantasize about, but at the end of the day, we're terrified of her."
"Great job," the second woman praised. "Can you come back tomorrow for a reading with Chase?"
"This is amazing!" Tina squealed. "Oh, my God! You're going to get this part. I can just feel it."
Peri blocked out the thought. She didn't want to jinx it by jumping that far ahead. "Look, right now I'm just thrilled to have a callback." She breathed a sigh of relief into her cellular.
"But you have an in with Chase McCloud," Tina said, her voice up several octaves. "He said that he was going to put a word in, right?" She let out an annoyed sigh. "Hold on. Don't buy anything from her. All her clothes smell like cigarettes. Shoo her away before she stinks up the shop. Okay, I'm back."
Peri smiled. Tina Rich managed Something Borrowed, one of the city's most popular vintage-clothing and consignment boutiques. She became a fast friend after Peri made it a ritual to duck into the store at least once a week to dig through the racks for new finds.
"I can't believe this," Tina went on breathlessly. "You're going to be on Physical Evidence. You have to tell me when, so I can set my TiVo."
"Tina, stop," Peri protested lamely. Deep down, she enjoyed her friend's optimism. Maybe saying it out loud would make it come true. "It's only a callback, and I don't have any television experience. It really is a long shot."
"No, it's not," Tina said sharply. "They already know about your lack of TV experience. And trust me, these people didn't call you back just to make you feel good. You're a fresh face, and that's what they're responding to. People are plucked from nowhere to star in shows all the time. Like that girl from Lost. She beat out big names for that part."
"I just don't want to—"
Beep.
Peri glanced at the screen to identify the incoming call. She didn't recognize the number. "Tina, this could be the casting office. I'll call you back." She disengaged Tina and clicked on the mystery caller. "Hello?"
"I believe congratulations are in order." It was Chase McCloud.
Peri shut her eyes and jumped up and down. Chase McCloud was calling her cell phone!
"It's Chase," he said. "I scammed your number from casting. I hope you don't mind."
"No, of course not. I didn't get a chance to thank you for the cab. That was sweet."
"I'm just glad things worked out. Rumor has it that you really wowed them today."
Peri laughed modestly. "I don't know. I just feel lucky to have a callback."
"How about dinner tonight?" Chase asked. "And afterward, we can run lines together. That way, you'll kick ass again at tomorrow's reading."
"That sounds great."
"One of my favorite spots is Mas in the West Village. How about meeting there at ten?"
"Perfect," Peri chirped. But right away her brain went to work deconstructing the invitation. Was this just a friendly actor reaching out to a struggling nobody? Or was this a date?
PHYSICAL EVIDENCE
Season 3: Episode 57
"Blood on the Cross"
SHOOTING DRAFT
7 INT. SATURN 3—UPSCALE BAR/NIGHTCLUB—EVENING
A trendy, professional after-work gathering spot. The scene is crowded with lawyer types. Elise Mills is sitting at the bar, fingering the stem of a near-empty martini glass.
Bingo Grant walks in and generates a ripple of awareness from the women bored with suit-and-tie guys who only want to discuss their master plan to become partner at a firm.
Bingo
(sliding onto the empty seat next to Elise)
No fair. You're way ahead of me already.
(gestures to the bartender)
Draft beer, bud.
Elise
(still offering no eye contact)
I had to do something for the twenty minutes I've been waiting.
Bingo
(sarcastically)
Sorry. I couldn't decide what to wear. I must've changed clothes five or six times.
(glancing around at the other patrons)
You know, part of me wants to start a bar fight right now. Some of these guys in here deserve a black eye and busted lip just on principle alone.
Elise
(rolling her eyes)
Ooh—a man with open hostility for lawyers. You're nothing if not original.
(signals to the bartender for another martini)
Bingo
I'm surprised you wanted to meet here.
Elise
Here being what? The scene of the crime?
Bingo
Was it a crime? I thought we just had a night of meaningless sex.
Elise
You should ask around. Sex with you is considered a criminal act.
Bingo
I guess anything that makes you feel that good has to be illegal.
8 INT. BINGO'S APARTMENT—LATER
As if following moonlight, camera pans living room floor, tracking scattered clothes—a man's and a woman's—along a path to the bedroom, where two lovers are locked in a feverish embrace.
Elise
(in a low, passionate, breathless growl)
You bastard. I'm supposed to be preparing you to take the stand.
Bingo
Don't worry. You won't leave here until I get a thorough cross-examination.
(silences her with a kiss)
Chapter Three
Somewhere between the second glass of wine and the poached lobster, Peri began to feel the tingle of the alcohol and the energy of animated flirtation.
Chase McCloud knew how to charm.
Mas was a quaint restaurant nestled on Downing Street in the West Village, a secret hideaway teeming with intimacy and French-countryside flavor. The wait staff was slavishly attentive, the menu deliciously eclectic.
After accepting Chase's dinner invitation, Peri had made a mad dash to Tina's Something Borrowed boutique, where she found an exquisite camel-colored cowl-neck poncho in Italian wool and a gorgeous, squeal-worthy pair of Spanish leather knee boots in her size. She put them together with her favorite pair of Seven jeans, her best black silk blouse, and vintage chandelier earrings. With her dark hair sexy-messy in that morning-after-a-great-night way and her makeup flawless, Peri felt like she had no change left from a million.
Which was a good way to feel when sitting across from Chase McCloud. There was handsome, there was beautiful, and then there was superhumanly gorgeous. He definitely stood behind door number three.
"So," Chase began, settling back between courses and taking a slow sip of wine. "What did you think of the new pages?"
"Shocked, to put it mildly."
Chase smiled. "The part's been upgraded to lead guest star. That means it'll pay more than five grand."
Peri's mind swirled with the news. "I still can't believe I'm up for it."
He raised his glass in salute. "You're not only up for it. You're the one to
beat."
Peri refused to believe it. She filed this under flattery. Nothing more.
"I'm serious," Chase said, picking up on her doubtfulness. "And I might have you to thank for a better story arc."
"What do you mean?"
"The show's been criticized for too many stand-alone episodes that focus just on the investigations. Viewers are interested in the characters, too. Finally, the producers and writers are starting to come around. It's been implied that Bingo's a player, but do you realize that they've never even shown him on so much as a dinner date? Seems like all I do on the show is dust for fingerprints and mouth off to the bosses. Don't get me wrong, though. I realize that it's a great gig. But after a few years of the same scenes over and over again, it's easy to forget how grateful you should be." He shrugged. "But now, because of you, I've got something else to do."
"Because of me?" Peri asked.
"This was originally a glorified bit part—one brief scene with the Brett character and another one with Bingo on the witness stand. You showed them something this morning. They started talking, it went back to the writers, and now I'm involved in a major subplot with backstory. You're good luck. I should take you to Vegas."
Peri smiled demurely and busied herself with finishing her wine.
"Is this too late for you? I didn't finish my last scene until nine. Otherwise, I—"
"It's fine," Peri cut in. "I'm a bit of a night owl anyway."
Chase grinned. "Good. After dinner, I thought we'd go back to my place and run lines."
Peri felt the blood rush as she gestured to the script pages on the banquette next to her. "These lines?"
"Yeah, those lines," Chase teased. "Something wrong?"
"No, it's just…"
"I brought home some pieces from wardrobe," he announced. "That way, I'll be in my Bingo Grant gear, and it'll feel more like a real audition."
Anthology - The Night Before Christmas Page 23
