Alice in La La Land (16 page)

(Address and Yahoo Map attached.)

Love Rebekah

'He said he wanted an English accent!' yelled Alice into her cell phone, veering momentarily onto the wrong side of the road. ' I wound up sounding like a bloody chimney sweep, circa 1830 . . . oops, that was close . . . anyway, Bek, he was way behind schedule so could you let Mindy Sherman know that I'm going to be fifteen minutes late for
Wind Boy.
'

'Man,' corrected Rebekah. 'Well, that's odd because he definitely didn't say anything about an English accent to me, I'll have to find out what . . .'

'No, no,' said Alice quickly, 'It was just a spur of the moment thing. Let's just leave it, shall we? I'm off to
Wind Man
now, so just, if you could just let them know.'

'Will do,' said Rebekah hanging up.

'Hi Mindy, I'm so sorry about being late,' Alice panted, breathless from the stairs at Contour Casting. 'Thank you so much for re-casting, I mean re-scheduling. Goodness.' She tried to slow down her breathing. 'I just wanted you to know how much I loved reading
Wind Man
,' she said, alarmed at her ability to be false and out of breath at the same time. 'I sure would love to give it a go.'

Alice threw down her bag and stood by the wall. She held up an imaginary weather-pointer stick.

'Uh, Alice,' said Mindy, 'We can just sit down and read through. You don't need to do all that yet.'

'Do you mind, though?' Alice asked sweetly. 'It would help me through all that weather-specific dialogue.'

'Hold up. What scene have you prepared?'

'Scene seventy,' Alice replied keenly, 'and I've learned it so I'm fine to be off book.' Alice beamed proudly. It had been a lot of work learning the dialogue, with all its high-pressure systems and south-westerly currents, but she had done it.

Mindy's face crumpled in embarrassment. 'Alice, that's . . . thanks for doing that but it was scene seventy-one we needed to look at. The scene where she's talking to Harry aka Wind Man, and she begins to suspect that he's leading a double life. You know the one?'

Alice felt her breakfast of Pop Tarts tumble in her stomach. 'Scene seventy-one,' she repeated slowly. Her heart thumped uncomfortably. 'You're right, it was scene . . . I'm so sorry. Do you want to see the weather-reading scene anyway?'

'Look,' Mindy said smoothly, 'let's just read through seventy-one together first and we can take it from there.'
She went to her desk and began rifling around. 'I'm just looking for another copy of the . . .' she began, and looked at her watch. 'Oops, the time . . . oh okay, here it is.' She passed it to Alice.

Alice sat on the blue-and-yellow couch holding the script. Mindy's office resembled her nana's front room, although her nana would never have owned a cappuccino-maker and a mini fridge.

'From where she's leaving the station,' Mindy suggested.

'Sure,' said Alice, trying to remain calm, and scouring the big print to see just what the hell was happening in the scene. Alice was disadvantaged doing a cold read. It meant she didn't have time to get her American accent properly implanted.

'Harry,' she began, keeping her tone light, 'Heyyy. Where've you been? I swear, you're so mysterious sometimes. What'd you make of the weather? They say there's another hurricane comin' in, bigger than the last,' she read.

'I know it, Jill. Came to say goodbye for a while.'

'Where are you going?'

'News is sending me to cover the storm as it breaks. Gotta get that footage.'

'Why do they always send you, Harry? It's weird. Why couldn't Dave or Buck go? In fact, do you ever take time off?'

'Well, I . . .'

'Listen, Harry, great to shoot the breeze but I gotta run, I have a date tonight.'

'You have a date? Well, who is he?'

'Jason, from accounts,' said Alice/Jill.

'Oh, okay. Well, goodbye, Jill, and take care of yourself. Don't go outdoors once it hits, will you.'

'I won't,' she replied cheerfully. Alice snuck in a look of puzzlement as subtext.

'Alice, thanks so much, that was great, but I really need to go. I'll let your agent know if we want you to do something more for us, okay,' Mindy concluded, gathering her belongings.

'Sure, just let Rebekah at Amoeba know. Thanks Mindy. Great meeting you and sorry about the mix up.'

Alice was talking to the air. Mindy had already gone.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Re: Looly Down Under

We have set up this appointment with Whitney Meyers and Greg Stanley, the director. The character, Looly, is a fun-loving twenty-one-year-old zoologist. Are you okay with partial nudity? No accent required today, she's Australian. Could you prepare scenes 13 and 73. Audition at 2.15, Whitney Meyers Casting, Venice Beach.

(Address and Yahoo map attached.)

Love Rebekah

Alice sat in Applepan Restaurant on West Pico Boulevard waiting for her burger. She'd arrived at 12.30 and was able to secure a stool at the horseshoe-shaped counter. According to Shauna, these were the best burgers in LA. So far Alice had sampled Jack-In-The-Box (uh-uh), White
Castle (too small), McDonald's (bleech) and In-N-Out (excellent). She was curious to sample the famous Applepan burger and sipped root beer and munched French fries while she waited. She had plenty of time to eat and drive over to Venice Beach for her appointment with Greg Stanley.

Alice tried not to think about financial matters and pondered the possibility of a career change. Having pursued the same dream for the last eight years, she was sadly unqualified for anything else. What were her options? Alice popped a hot French fry in her mouth and mulled it over. Florist? No aptitude with flowers. Starting up some kind of a small business? Zero business acumen. The production side of film? Well, she had produced a play for Belvoir Street Theatre but she was sinking in debt as a consequence. The thought of producing something else that lost money filled her with despair. Maybe she just wasn't cut out for the industry at all. Why on earth hadn't she chosen a less competitive, less flashy career in the public service?

Alice's burger arrived steaming hot on a paper plate and she actually salivated in anticipation. It was every bit as delicious as Shauna had suggested, and a small blue-ribbon ceremony took place in Alice's head. An Applepan burger stood triumphantly on the podium, its fist punching the air in victory.

At two o'clock, Alice entered the small house that served as casting office for Whitney Meyers. A queue of actors was lined up right out onto the front porch and some of them had recognisable faces. So much for her intimate meeting with the director. This was a cattle call.

Alice found a seat on the end of one of the couches in the lounge/waiting room. Actors and actresses were seated on the brown wicker chairs, the couches and the floor. Alice plucked a fact sheet from the coffee table and automatically wrote down her age as twenty-seven in the space provided. She looked round the room. Every actress seemed younger, thinner and more beautiful than the last. They were pre-botox, shiny-eyed and self-assured in their youth. These were Hollywood zoologists, and Alice felt not only one hundred years old but overweight and unattractive to boot. What the hell did she think she was doing sampling burgers all over LA? These actresses looked as though they hadn't eaten in weeks, let alone a burger and fries and a piece of apple pie for dessert right before the audition. Well, they probably all do really crappy Australian accents, she consoled herself, and finished off her fact sheet with a flourish. She knew she was in for a long wait.

Over an hour passed in the waiting room and Alice watched a variety of actors and actresses come and go. She recognised one red-headed guy as having just appeared in a Doug Liman indie hit. He looked inordinately pleased with himself and Alice wanted to punch the expression right off his face. She saw another ex-pat Australian actress who she knew by sight but had never been introduced to, and held back from going over and shaking her hand. Execrable as it was, this banana and anchovy pizza was hers.

At 3.17 pm, Whitney Meyers ushered Alice into the office and she shook hands with an enervated Greg Stanley. He was wearing cargo pants and a long-sleeved
Ramones T-shirt. Whitney apologised for the delay and asked Alice if she'd like a glass of water. Alice declined.

'Soooo, Alice, how are you?' Greg began, fidgeting with
a piece of paper that may or may not have been her CV.

'I'm great, how are you?'

'Could you make sure that second tape goes over to
Paramount on the next courier, Whitney?'

'I'm really loving it here, really looking forward to
doing a bit of press for
Cornucopia
and . . .' Alice continued.

'Sorry, Alice . . . that's great. How old are you?'

'Twenty-seven,' Alice replied, wobbling on her wedge-heeled shoes. She knew without doubt the outfit she'd chosen was wrong, that it sent out the wrong message. Was it the long sleeves? The shade of denim? It wouldn't matter what she'd worn, nothing could make her look twenty-one when her thirtieth birthday was only a few months off. Alice had a sudden urge to scrub herself vigorously with a toilet brush.

'Uh-huh,' Greg replied, smiling at her inscrutably. 'Okay, Alice, let's take a look at what you got here.'

Whitney stood poised beside camera with script pages in her hand.

'Absolutely,' said Alice, dropping her satchel on the floor.

'Scene thirteen, Alice?' Greg suggested, pleasantly.

'Got it.' Alice had a nasty suspicion that Greg thought
she was too old to play the part and was going through the motions until the next teenage zoologist walked through the door. 'Action,' he began.

Alice looked at Whitney and furrowed her brow. 'You can't pick those, they're a protected species. In case
you hadn't noticed, this is a national park,' said Alice/ Looly. What sort of a name was Looly anyway?

'Would it make a difference if you knew I was picking this flower for you?' said Whitney as Chuck Gooly. Clearly the names were comedic.

'Not at all. It's my job to protect the plants and animals in this jurisdiction.'

'I'll just put it back then.'

'Why aren't you wearing a hat, mate?'

'I have a large head. A lot of hats don't fit me. Also, I think I look better this way.'

'Really? Gunna be a hot one today, so make sure you've got sunscreen on,' said Alice/Looly, trying to be charming, cross and overtly Aussie at the same time. 'If hats aren't your thing, that is.'

'Good advice,' said Whitney/Chuck. 'Hey, do you happen to know the way to Champs Canyon?'

Alice shook her head with a wry smile. 'Stone the crows, not another Yank chasing fool's gold,' she said.

'You know about that?'

'You're not the first and you won't be the last,' said Alice/Looly. 'It's twenty miles north,' she added, pointing into the distance and shading her eyes from the imaginary glare of the sun. Why would she would be talking in miles instead of kilometres? 'Just follow the signs to Snake Ridge. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.' Alice/Looly swatted at a fly and turned to leave, allowing one cheeky smile, as if her character was thinking, this guy is an absolute goon, but there's something cute about him I just can't resist.

'Cut! Great, Alice. Loved that little . . . thing you did at
the end,' Greg enthused, waggling his fingers round his mouth. 'Why were you waving your hands around though?'

'Oh, just . . . flies, you know, the outback and everything. Millions of flies,' Alice explained.

'Not in my picture, I hope,' Greg remarked to Whitney. She laughed as though he'd said something very clever.

'Oh, there are flies, all right,' said Alice, firmly. 'Where are you filming?' She had gone on a number of holidays to the Red Centre with her family and thought of herself as something of an expert.

'You've been to the outback?' Greg asked incredulously.

'Yeah, sure. Let's see, I've filmed in Broken Hill and Silverton, that's rural New South Wales,' she said, ticking the places off on her fingers. 'The Flinders Ranges in South Australia are really spectacular, lots of film crews head that way. Then of course, you have Uluru and Alice Springs, but I gotta warn you, Greg, there will be flies.'

'Okay, Alice,' Greg shrugged. 'Thanks for those tips. We're just about to do a location survey, and I'm gonna mention the . . . Flinders Ranges, is it?'

'That's it,' Alice nodded, wondering if this was scoring her any brownie points or if she had merely morphed into some loser doing Greg's location research work for free. 'Do you want me to do that scene again?' she asked.

'Nah, fine, Alice. Let's move on,' Greg replied, scribbling something on the piece of A4 paper that may or may not have been her CV.

'Okay, so scene seventy-three and she's in the waterhole cooling off, right?' said Alice. 'So, if I just stand here like this, that's okay, like I'm in the water?'

'Ahh, yep, that's good, Alice,' Greg confirmed, not looking up.

'Okay,' Alice nodded, and tried to conjure some of the serenity a lonely zoologist might find while immersed in water.

'Action.'

Alice closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

'Looly?' said Whitney as Chuck.

'Oh my goodness, you scared me!' Alice/Looly exclaimed, gathering her arms around her. She swayed a little from side to side as if treading water.

'Mind if I join you?' Whitney/Chuck asked.

'Okay, I guess, but could you stay over there? I'm afraid I forgot my swimmers.'

'Promise.'

'You weren't spying on me or anything, were you?'

'Course not. But I did come to tell you something,' said Whitney/Chuck.

'Okay . . . What?'

'That missing baby kangaroo? We found her by the roadside.'

'Oh no! Was she . . .? '

'Hold on, I haven't finished,' said Whitney/Chuck.

Alice couldn't remember those words being in the script and wondered if she'd cut in on Whitney/Chuck's line.

'Yes,' continued Whitney/Chuck. 'She looked as though she'd been knocked by a car, so I wrapped her in an old towel and took her back to base.'