The Price Of Innocence by Lia Marsh Page B

copy of the script being proffered by a waiting attendant, he sat in the centre of the front row of chairs and settled himself with a great hubbub.
    It seemed impossible for him to do anything with any kind of tranquility or stillness and Laura was beginning to like this about him.
    She watched the first girl’s try-out with same satisfaction. The girl’s “Latino” accent was terribly unconvincing; surely Mr. White would acknowledge that? She looked around at the casting director, who was staring at the girl, fidgeting around in his chair as he did so. Occasionally he would brandish the script in front of his twitching face and bark an order at the girl onstage, who would nervously try to do what he said. This went on for some minutes, until, abruptly,
    “Next!” barked Mr. White.
    “Who wants to be next? Wait, you gotta choose yourselves...I'm going to the bathroom.”
    He marched out, leaving an air of released tension in the studio.
    While he was gone, two more girls showed up; both even older than the others and also with very pale skin. As Laura watched another couple of woefully poor (to her Mexican ears, at least), “Latino” accents, her heart became lighter and lighter. Mr. White did not stop his fidgeting throughout the audition process, and oddly, Laura noticed him taking bathroom breaks after every girl’s try-out.
    Surely he did not to pee so badly? After the third time of him leaving and then returning, she began to guess what he might be up to from his increased energy and his discreet nose-wiping. Maybe this was her chance…
    Just then, Mr. White’s arm flailed in her direction and he shouted,
    “You! You’re next!”
    Laura smiled calmly and stood up.
    “My pleasure,” she purred at Mr. White, and began slinking up to the stage.
    Normally she would never act so forward with the casting director at an audition; especially in front of the other actresses. But today, this was a key part of her plan. She wanted to be noticed; whatever it took.
    So although she put her whole being into her character as she stood up on the stage, she was not expecting only this to help her get the part. Watching Mr. White watch her, she was gratified to see him staring, seemingly transfixed by her, as he barked his instructions. Going through the motions of her character, she noticed Mr. White frequently wiping his nose, and towards the end of her piece he began jiggling around and eying the exit.  This gave Laura an idea.
    As she came to the end of an emotional monologue, spoken with an effortless Mexican accent (for both of Laura’s parents were Mexican), Mr. White slammed his hand down on the script in front of him and snapped,
    “Next!”
    Laura smiled winningly at him, not perturbed by his suddenness in the slightest.
     
     
    “Thank you,” she said loudly, in her own Californian accent. As Mr. White looked up at her, she held his gaze with her striking green eyes; trying to make herself memorable as she stared at him with all of the confidence she could muster.
    For a second or two, Mr. White was unusually still as his blue eyes fixed onto hers. Then,
    “Very good,” he muttered abruptly, and turning from Laura, he rose and began making his way to the door.
    “I’ll be back in a second, ladies!” he announced, as he marched out again.
    Laura, seeing her opportunity, leapt off the stage and, hurriedly grabbing her bag from her chair, followed the director out into the blinding LA sunshine.
    She could see Mr. White walking ahead of her, waving his arms briskly as though he was still surrounded by people whom he had to order around. The sweat was clearly running down the back of his pink shirt, and his blonde curly hair was quite damp with it. Laura hurried close behind him, noting the tightness of his white pants which showed off quite an impressive ass.
    Mr. White turned without warning down a small alleyway in between studios, yanking open a door and stepping into a cool, dark room. Laura followed