Then There Was You

I

"Enough!"
The casting directors booming voice bringing us abruptly to a stop. The young girl who was standing closest, threw me a nervous look- her brown eyes bulging slightly. I gave a small shrug of my shoulders in response.
"We've seen enough ladies," he said energetically, looking briefly at the other two production leaders behind him who nodded in unison, "Thank you all very much."
We had just barely got into the choreography that we had been instructed to learn for this audition. And to be quite frank, I was frustrated I never got to finish. But you could tell by the look on their faces, that they had already made their decision. It didn't matter if I got to show off my triple turn- that I had been practicing for weeks! They'd already chosen the leading lady. No amount of pretty pirouettes were going to change their minds.

My heart sank in that all too familiar feeling of disappointment, as I followed the casting directors gaze, which were focused intently on a pretty blonde at the front.
It's always the blondes, I thought bitterly.
She was stunning. Her golden hair swishing in her high pony tail, as she turned her head excitedly. Her pale skin flushed prettily from exertion. I sighed sadly. I knew better than to be jealous. But I couldn't help but compare myself to her. She was much taller than my five foot one inch. Yes, one inch.
My spine straightening, trying to make that inch appear taller. I shook my red hair out of my face. It was my crowning glory. It tumbled in thick, loose waves to my waist. I always left it down for auditions. I liked to think it made me easier to remember, and more likely to make an impression. But my red mane wouldn't get me the part today.

"Can the following ladies please stay behind: Sarah Jackson, Emily Carmichael.."
My heart gave a nervous squeeze... Please say my name.
"And Kelly Munro."
The said three ladies all shared an excited look. For a second, I hated them. But I forced myself to smile and clap nonetheless. Don't be bitter Lara, I thought to myself. It's not their fault that you weren't good enough.
"The rest of you can go. We'll be in touch in the next week to offer supporting roles. Thank you all for coming today." He clapped us off dismissively. But I wasn't leaving just yet. There was something I needed to know.
I'd given such a good portrayal of the character I wanted- Glinda. My audition was perfect. I didn't sing off key once. Not once.
So why didn't I make the cut?

I pushed my chin out defiantly and strode over to the casting bench. They all looked up at my approach, confusion clear on their faces.
"Can I please ask something? I just want an honest answer," I was trying my best not to let any emotion leak into my voice.
"Go ahead," he said, his eyes measuring me up.
"Why didn't I get the part? My audition was perfect," I wasn't bragging, just stating the facts. He raised his eyebrows a fraction and shared a bemused smile with his colleagues.
I wanted to hit him in his smiling, pouty mouth.
"Can you take an honest answer?"
I nodded, squaring my shoulders and tried to stand as tall as possible.
"You're right. Your audition was perfect. But..."
I mentally rolled my eyes, there was always a 'but'.
"There was something missing. I just didn't believe you." His voice sounded somewhat sympathetic.
I didn't believe you.
My heart sunk to my feet. Tears prickled behind my eyes as his words hit home. I'd heard this so many times before, but it still stung every time. I wasn't believable. As an aspiring actress, this was the worst thing I could be.
"Uhm... I see," I said dejectedly, "Thank you for being honest."
I turned to leave, not wanting to see their sympathetic smiles.
"Good luck Lara!" He called.
Yes, I needed all the luck I could get.
At least they remembered my name, I thought bitterly.

I kept my head down as I left, my attention focused intently on my black jazz shoes. Which were starting to blur, tears swimming, threatening to spill out any second now.
Don't cry. Don't cry. Do not cry.
I rushed for the safety of the dressing room, ignoring the other girls completely, and locked myself in the nearest cubicle. Waiting patiently for everyone to leave, and to try and get a grip of myself. You would think I'd be used to rejection by now. It happened often. Far too often. Really, I should have taken the hint years ago. But I was stubborn.
Something inside me wouldn't let me give up. In all my twenty two years of living, I've dreamed of nothing more than being an actress.
It was what I was meant to be.
It was the only thing I knew.
Taking a deep steadying breath, confident that I wasn't going to cry, I unlocked the door and went to change.

The dressing room was almost empty. Only two girls remained, chattering excitedly. I dressed in a daze. My motions automatic, I was only vaguely aware of the material slipping over my skin. Once dressed, I left quickly. Not bothering to say goodbye to the girls who were still deep in their conversation.
I pulled out my phone and panic shot through me when I seen the time. 3.37pm.
"Shit!" I hissed.
I'm going to be late. My shift at Costa started at 4pm. It was twenty miles away from Glasgow, back in my home town of Stirling.
It would take me thirty minutes to get home, and that was with me breaking a few limits along the way.
Reluctantly, I sought out the number for my boss, and my boyfriend. James.
He picked up on the second ring.
"Hello," the sound of his familiar voice almost made me cry. Get a hold of yourself!
"Hi, I'm going to be late," I tried not sound as miserable as I felt.
"Yeah... I thought you might say that," he sighed down the phone, "How did the audition go?"
"Not good."
He sighed again. My bottom lip trembled slightly.
"I'm sorry Lara," his voice taking a soothing tone, "Just get here as fast as you can."
"Mhhmm... I will, I'm sorry," I mumbled. He gave a final loud sigh and then hung up.

Another wave of sadness swept over me. I tried my best to shake it off as I headed for my car.
My car was a fourteen plate, red Citroen C1. It wasn't much, but it got me from A to B safely. And that's all I could really ask for.
I started the engine and headed for the M8.
I've been able to drive since I was eighteen, so it didn't require much of my attention. My thoughts were elsewhere.
I felt completely miserable.
I'm a terrible actress. And to top it off, I'm also a terrible employee.
Finally, I cried.
The tears streamed hotly down my face, as the miles slowly passed by. Fine.
You can cry for twenty minutes then back to game face, I told myself. After all, I had a seven hour shift to tackle.
I cried rather loudly, not bothering to look at myself in the overhead mirror. I knew it wasn't a pretty sight.