Casting Debbie

Chapter 2

Debbie stood in front of the huge wooden door wondering where the hell the doorbell was. It was one of those ultra-modern homes where all the essentials like light switches and the damn handle to flush toilets were hidden. She'd been in a home like that in New York –some unnecessary party she and the rest of the cast had been invited to. Needless to say, that particular toilet went unflushed.

And why did she have to find the doorbell anyway? Lou had already let her in the security gate. She was probably watching her on a security camera from inside the house. Debbie pounded on the door. She considered flipping off the camera on the overhang with her spare hand, but she thought better of it.

Lou opened the door with a smile. "Hi."

Debbie pushed her hands into her pockets. Feeling awkward and slightly annoyed, she forced herself to smile back.

"Hi." Lou opened the door wider. "Come in."

Debbie took a quick look around but didn't see any other guest.

"Either I'm early, or this isn't party at all."

"A party of three," Lou said. "Me, you, and if things go well, eventually my publicist."

Debbie spun around. "So, I was right. When we met this morning, I was right?"

"Which part?" Lou led Debbie into a meticulously decorated room. A long, white sofa faced floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on a large swimming pool. Debbie was pretty sure she got her period just looking at the sofa.

As living rooms go, this one was a blatant display of wealth. Debbie wasn't impressed. And even if she was, she'd never admit it. she'd met a few A-list actors in her time and rarely did she come away believing they were anything but self-absorbed, egotistical –and okay, yes, they were usually gorgeous to look at, but god they could be shallow pricks.

Lou asked again. "Which part were you right about, Debbie? The gay vibe or not so random plop down?

Feeling like she'd been played, Debbie didn't bother with pleasantries as her eyes lingered on Lou's tits. That dress was certainly hugging her in all the right places, and clearly the moment called for just the right blend of bitchy and coy. "Play your cards right and maybe I'll tell you."

Lou didn't acknowledge the comment. She sat in a chair and motioned for Debbie to sit on the sofa. A bottle and two glasses were perfectly placed on the coffee table. "Wine?"

Debbie sat down and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Trying to get me drunk?"

Lou suppressed a grin. "You're not a pushover. I like that."

"I'm a little jaded." Debbie stared at Lou intently, trying to read her expression. In other words, trying to figure out why the hell she was there. The house was empty. Dead quiet, except for some depressing classical music playing in the background. And so tidy, she wondered if anyone actually lived there.

"I don't blame you. Child actor. Smart. A bit of a has-been..."

"Five minutes off camera and I'm a has-been?" God, this woman!

Lou offered Debbie a glass. "It's been a year, hasn't it?"

"A hard year." Debbie took a large sip of wine, almost emptying the glass. Then, she titled her head and frowned. "And now I have to wonder how you know that. Surely you have better things to do than watch soaps all day."

"That was my mother. Still is, I'm sure."

"So, you didn't grow up watching the soaps with your mom?"

"I was too busy studying and playing the piano and trying to be perfect daughter."

"Oh." Debbie seemed to have hit a nerve. She could've commented on how Lou had succeeded by the looks of it. She was perfectly dressed in her, what is that color called? Oh yeah, cornflower summer dress with matching sandals, sitting like such a lady with her hands clasped on legs crossed at the ankle. Instead, she leaned forward and held her glass out for a reffil.