‘Ladies, please!’ Philippe cried.
Jackson had just walked into the Meat & Greet and now not a single one of the hopeful actresses was paying any attention to what Philippe was saying.
Including Olivia.
The production crew had cleared all the furniture out of the dining section of the diner and brought in folding chairs for everyone to sit on.
‘Ladies, we must begin the screen tests!’ Philippe looked like he was ready to explode from all the stress. ‘Now that she-who-must-not-be-named has done what-must-not-be-said, every minute is costing!’
Philippe paced, stopping every few steps to wave his hands and emphasise his words as he explained the rules. ‘OK, each candidate gets one chance in front of the camera to impress me. Those who do, come back for a reading with Jackson this afternoon. Those who don’t should be ashamed for wasting my time. That is all.’
Olivia gulped. Not much of a pep talk, she thought.
The first audition was a red-headed girl at least three years younger than Olivia, who looked like she might be turning a little bit green.
‘Look into the camera,’ Philippe barked.
The girl held her hands together, almost like she was praying, and looked at the camera. Olivia could see her trembling. Poor thing, she thought. Everyone here really wants the part.
A woman with frizzy hair and a thick New York accent spoke a little softer. ‘Tell us your name and age, please.’
But the girl was so camera-struck that she couldn’t get the words out. It made Olivia feel even more nervous. What if I can’t speak in front of the camera either? she wondered.
The auditionee shook her head and the woman came over, put her arm around her and led her outside.
Philippe had no sympathy. ‘Next!’ he shouted, clearly making a big line through the poor girl’s name on his list.
An older blonde girl wearing a green woolly hat and big hoop earrings stood up, looking more confident.
‘Now we will see into your soul,’ Philippe pronounced. ‘The soul of the actress!’
He began firing questions at the girl. ‘When did you last laugh? What do you think of frogs? What if the earth was flat?’
The girl did her best to come up with answers, while Philippe scribbled furiously, but some of the questions were totally bizarre. When she’d finished, Philippe nodded, seemingly satisfied.
One by one, girls stood in front of the camera, having to impersonate the president, talk about their pet hamster or describe how they would make a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. Charlotte got a question about her hobbies and she didn’t hesitate to tell everyone about being the captain of the cheerleading squad. She happily demonstrated a cheer – the one Olivia wrote last semester.
When they were more than halfway through the people waiting, Philippe called for Olivia.
‘I know I’m not supposed to say “good luck”,’ Camilla said. ‘So break a tentacle.’
‘Thanks,’ Olivia replied and stepped in front of the camera. There were lights rigged up on big metal frames and the man with the huge headphones was dangling a microphone over her head.
She felt everyone watching her, waiting to see what she would say. The big black camera was pointing right at her and she wished Ivy could have been here for support. But this was her chance and she was going to give it her best.
‘What is your favourite colour and why?’
That was easy. Olivia gave a big smile. ‘My favourite colour is pink. And I think it’s because when I was four, my mom gave me a frilly pink parasol with my name embroidered on it.’
‘What is your darkest secret?’
That I know vampires are real, Olivia thought. She paused for a second and then said, ‘I’m adopted. Not that it’s a dark secret, or anything. But I haven’t met most of my biological family.’ She didn’t want anyone to get suspicious that there was anything unusual about her family. ‘But I’d like my biological dad to introduce me to them some day.’
‘Sing me a song,’ Philippe demanded.
Olivia resisted the urge to break into ‘The Right One’ and decided to go with ‘Double Trouble'. She knew her voice wasn’t too bad, and it made it even better when she saw Jackson nodding along.
‘Tell us a joke.’