The Boy Toy - Nicola Marsh Page 0,53
poor kids.
But he couldn’t think about that now; it would only add to the pressure already building in his chest. He sat in the car, practicing the breathing techniques Pia had shown him, knowing it would be easier to calm his nerves here, alone, rather than inside the studio. Besides, the last thing he needed was to run into Dixon; that would undermine his meager confidence completely.
He’d been riding high after his final session with Pia, then he’d seen Samira, kissed her, and his concentration had been shot to shit. He’d been right to avoid her the last two weeks; she was a major distraction, wrapped up in one very attractive package.
But after this audition, he had every intention of making up for lost time with her.
With five minutes to spare, he strode into the studio, relieved to see the waiting area empty. Chris had warned him both the producer and the director would be at the audition, and he’d have to read from cues. He’d been relieved to hear that. Reading was much easier for him than ad-libbing. Less chance to stumble and screw up.
He’d done everything Chris had asked of him, down to wearing a more casual outfit of jeans and a chambray shirt rolled up at the cuffs—the perfect Renegades host attire, apparently.
It should’ve given him more confidence. It didn’t, because as the studio door opened and a hipster guy with a too-long beard and shaved head beckoned him inside, every single technique he’d learned from Pia over the last few weeks faded into oblivion, leaving him light-headed and unsure.
However, as he entered a small room, with a stage and a cue machine at the front, and only two men in their forties sitting and facing the stage, an odd thing happened.
He didn’t have to perform in here. He didn’t have to try too hard. He had to channel everything he’d learned and just be himself.
“Thanks for coming in, Rory.” The director, a seasoned veteran of a long-running Aussie soap opera, stood and extended his hand. “I’m Sherman Rix, and this is Allan Stuart.”
“Nice to m-meet you.”
Dammit. Rory felt the blood surge to his face at his stumble, but thankfully, neither man reacted, probably putting it down to nerves.
“Take a seat, Rory,” Allan said, shaking his hand too. “We like to have an informal chat first.”
The heat in his cheeks intensified. So much for reading off a cue then getting the hell out of here. He’d been naive to think this audition would be easier without having to learn lines. Or maybe he’d tried to downplay the possibility of curveballs to clamp down on his nerves.
Whatever, he was so screwed.
“You come highly recommended for this part.” Sherman swiped at an electronic tablet, probably skimming his CV. “Chris is a respected agent.”
“We’ve worked together for a few years now,” Rory said. “He’s a good guy.”
Sherman’s impressive bushy brows drew together. “Yet he hasn’t put you forward for any speaking parts before this?”
Shit. Here came that first curveball. So he trotted out his prepared spiel in case he was faced with this very question.
“I’ve preferred stunt work to give me a good grounding in the industry. I’ve always been better at hands-on learning.”
“Admirable,” Allan muttered, eyeing him with speculation. “So why would an economics major who graduated top of his year at university choose to do stunt work instead?”
Another question he’d prepared for, phew. “Because movies are magical, and driving cars at top speed beats sitting behind a PC all day.”
Sherman laughed. “Ain’t that the truth.”
Approval glinted in Allan’s eyes. “I’m an accountant myself but couldn’t stand working a nine-to-five job behind a desk for more than six months.”
“So how did you get into this business?”
Allan grinned. “Shouldn’t we be asking you the questions?”
Rory hesitated, hoping he hadn’t screwed up, but the men laughed again.
“Relax, Rory, we’re just messing with you. Having this kind of informal chat is exactly what we wanted, to see how personable you are, how you’ll come across chatting to the contestants on the show, that kind of thing.”
Trepidation tightened his throat. “So there’ll be a lot of that on the show?”
He’d spent endless hours watching every Survivor rerun he could, taking note of exactly how much talking the host had to do. It had been comforting to see that the bulk of it was left to the contestants, with the host mainly introducing the challenges and asking brief questions at the tribal council. He’d envisaged Renegades being similar.
“You’ll be reading from cues mostly, as