Chapter Text
Hollywood.
Some liked to call it Tinseltown, with all the glitz and glamor. Others liked to call it superficial, with all the fillers and botox. For Tally, she just always thought of Hollywood as unpredictable. Like how she didn’t get one single callback for the last eight roles she had auditioned for, including the coveted Cute Girl # 2 in a low-budget horror flick. And then out of the blue, her agent had called about Between the Lines.
Tally held the script close to her chest. She thought for sure they had already passed on her for the role when she heard nothing back from them for weeks. And now they were giving her hope again by calling her in for a chemistry read with the movie’s main star: Sarah Alder.
Three-time Oscar nominated actress Sarah Alder, who had a reputation for being very serious about her craft and notoriously hard to work with.
Tally’s palms started to sweat.
Shoot.
Perhaps Tally hadn’t really thought this through. Maybe she would have been better off living in obscurity in her B-grade movies, instead of shooting for the stars by seeking a part in an Izadora Dart movie with Sarah Alder.
She gazed nervously at the door. They had called in the sixth girl to do her chemistry read about twenty minutes ago — the longest anyone had been in there. Like the last time, Tally was last to go. On the one hand, there was that whole recency effect thing. On the other hand, they’d probably sleep through the whole thing if they had decided they’d already found their girl.
As if on cue, the door suddenly swung open, and the cute blonde girl who was called in earlier strutted out of the room. She had a slightly arrogant smile on her face that confirmed Tally’s fear that this was over for her before it even began.
A tall woman in her mid-forties was reading off a piece of paper in her hand. “Tally Craven?”
“Yes.” Tally stood from her seat, bag swung over her right shoulder.
“You’re up next with Alder.”
Sarah Alder knew she had a reputation. She'd been the one to cultivate it, after all.
(Not initially, no. Who goes into a career hoping to be called a bitch behind her back? But when the alternatives were looking weak or playing the game of the simpering fool, well… Sarah wasn't made to be a fool.)
It got tiring, though, keeping her reputation intact. Like sitting stoic and professional through six back to back chemistry reads with young ingenues who hoped to either ride her coattails, stab her in the back and climb over her corpse, or just plain ride her. The last actress she'd read with, Sarah was pretty sure was ready to do all three. Something in her eyes. A sort of manic glint when she thought Sarah wasn't looking. Still, she was technically proficient and they would probably look attractive on screen together — that juxtaposition of light and dark, tall and petite — so her little nostril flare and grin of triumph as she was ushered out of the room weren’t entirely unjustified.
If only the prospect of working with her didn't fill Sarah with the dread knowledge that she'd never be able to relax around her. That actress expected Sarah Alder, in all her high-maintenance, icy superiority, perfect performance glory.
Sarah rolled her pen lightly beneath her fingers, staring at her script and ignoring the gazes she could feel watching for her for any hint of a reaction. She could get away with pretending to be reviewing her notes again while actually imagining she was anywhere but here.
“She was good,” Izadora said thoughtfully. “Definitely driven. She'll give Laura an edge if we let her and maybe even soften your performance in the process.”
Sarah allowed a small smile to touch the corners of her lips, looking at Izadora from underneath her lashes. “You know I can be soft if it calls for it,” Sarah said. She picked up her pen and rolled it between her fingers instead. “But I thought the point was that Laura herself was supposed to be soft enough to melt Melinda's cold exterior, not look even sharper in comparison.”
Izadora hummed in acknowledgement. “True, but she's the best so far. Number three…” She rifled through her notes. “Fiona. She could easily play the innocent doe, but I'm not sure I'd ever believe she'd catch Melinda's eye. Not enough fire underneath to match you.”
Sarah nodded quietly in agreement, but didn't offer any additional feedback. In truth, she'd been pretty sure there was nothing else in Number Three other than fluff and puppies, and she didn't think she'd have it in her to actually dig deep for the more interesting and emotional scenes that had drawn Sarah to this script in the first place.
“Well,” Izadora said, when nothing more was forthcoming. “Send in Number Seven.”
Taking a slow, deep breath, Sarah prepared herself for her last trial run, hoping without much actual hope that someone could outperform the last actress and keep her from that misery.