British English spelling and grammar.
All fiction, though I reference some real movies and actors. I hope this effort will at least satisfy the 'It needs a proper ending' brigade. Feel free to write your own sequel. I won't.
***
Walk on
Ian was waiting at the side door of the theatre when Pearl burst out and leapt into his arms.
"Wasn't that awesome?" she cried.
"You were awesome!" he laughed.
"I've been with BADS for years, but never experienced such a standing ovation!"
"It was all for you, babe; their favourite leading lady."
Most English towns have an amateur dramatic society. And they're usually called LADS, SADS and so on. The name of this town doesn't matter. Let's just say it begins with B.
As Ian and Pearl started up the street, there was an explosion of noise behind them as more of the cast and backstage staff spilled out.
"Coming for a drink?" someone called.
It had been the last night of the play.
"Sure, why not?" they said and waited while more of the crew piled out. A man approached and spoke to Pearl.
"Are you Pearl Astley?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Please take my card and call me over the weekend."
He handed it over and melted away into the night. The rest of the gang swarmed around them and they all invaded the nearby pub which, unsurprisingly, was called The Stage Door. Over the next couple of hours several members of the audience stopped by their tables and offered congratulations. Two even asked Pearl if she'd sign their programmes.
Next morning Ian and Pearl had hangovers. She couldn't tolerate much alcohol so hers was worse. They stood at their coffee machine waiting for it to stop gurgling. Then took their mugs to the dining table and made the same 'oomph!' noise as they sat. It made them laugh.
"So, what was the business card all about?" asked Ian.
"What business card?"
"That guy in the street -- just before we went in the pub."
"Oh yes, I'd forgotten all about him."
Pearl searched her handbag.
"No, it's not here. I must have lost it, or thrown it away."
Ian smiled. She tended to be a little scatter-brained and naïve. Only when she was playing a character was she sharp. She often irritated Ian with her poor memory, but once on stage she was word perfect. When they'd first met, his mother described her as easily led. But he took that with a pinch of salt; no girl would ever be good enough for Mrs Astley's son. He went into the hall and felt through her pockets; certain he'd seen her put the card in one.
"It was in your jacket." he said, handing it over.
"Was it really? I could have sworn I put it my bag."
She read it.
"He seems to be some sort of agent." she said.
"Yeah, that's the impression I got. I'm guessing he saw the play, and got your name from the programme."
"Do you think I should call him?"
"Why are you asking me? You know you're going to anyway. Finish your coffee and find out what he wants. I'm going for a run."
When Ian got back, he asked how the call had gone.
"Great! I was on the phone with him for ages. We only finished ten minutes ago. You're just in time for eggs and bacon; let's eat first and I'll tell you all about it."
Soon they were on the sofa with more coffee.
"There's a major film company making a movie about an assassin, and they need to do location filming. They've chosen our town. That's why the agent has been scouting around, and why he came to our play."
"Surely they've already got their cast." said Ian.
"They have; Brendon Summers is starring, but this guy says they need extras."
"Brendon Summers; is he the star in 'London Calling'?"
"Yes. I probably won't get to see him though."
"And they're interested in you?"
"Yes. Here's how it works." she said. "Extras, usually in scenes in streets and public spaces, get paid £100 a day. The downside is they need to be available for the whole day and may spend most of it sitting around doing nothing. The upside is they pay them even if they don't get to work that day. The agent made it clear that extras do not get spotted by directors or casting. That's a Hollywood myth."
"I thought so."
"But there are several walk-on parts where your face and or body appear in the movie, and you might get noticed. Not all those parts have been cast. They're paying £150 a day for the walk-ons, and £250 if you get to speak. He says - his name is Jim by the way - that some of the minor scenes are constantly updated so I might get a couple of lines. They're holding auditions Tuesday afternoon and evening."
"Wow! Before we know it, even more people will be asking for your autograph!"
Tuesday arrived and Pearl knocked off work an hour early. She was employed by an estate agency and sales were slack. Her boss was a big fan of amateur dramatics and had once played the male lead opposite her. He said she could have some time off if anything came of this. She hurried back to her old theatre, where she learned that BADS was being paid a handsome fee for lending the theatre to the film company, who would turn it into studio sets. They had also given permission for their props and costumes to be borrowed. Business card Jim was nowhere to be seen and she was ushered to a chair opposite the casting director and his assistant. She sat and waited.
"Pearl Astley?" asked the director.
"That's me."
"I'm informed you have some acting experience."
And so it progressed. She was getting good vibes. Once he had enough background info, he called for a cameraman who rolled his equipment up behind the director. It was pointing straight at Pearl and, presumably from some signal, bright lights came on.
"There's a short scene where a man flirts with a waitress. We aren't sure if there will be any dialogue. Please stand up and say what you think the waitress might say."
"This flirting; has he touched me, or just spoken?"
"Ah. Let's imagine you bent over in front of him and he got a glimpse up your skirt. He says something like 'Beautiful legs' but does not touch you."
"Do I appreciate his compliment? Or am I annoyed?"
"Another good question; try both."
She stood and turned to the chair she'd just vacated.
"That's nice of you to say so sir. But it's a good thing you can't see how they're aching. I've been on my feet all day."
She looked at the camera and said "Or" then turned to the imaginary actor again.
"It would be more acceptable if you directed your comments to the chef sir. I only serve the food."
The assistant turned to him and spoke quietly.
"I was expecting 'Naughty, naughty' or 'Look but don't touch'. She's certainly got imagination. And she didn't pay any attention to us, or the camera."
The casting director stood and walked up to Pearl.
"I'm Nat, and you're very good."
They finally shook hands.
"You asked all the right questions, and your responses were good. Jim was right about you. If you've got what it takes, we might even develop this waitress scene."
"Thanks." said Pearl.
He went on to talk through possible scenarios. Then he brought in a stage hand to stand in as the actor. They were to develop the scene where she responded favourably.
"Two last things." he said, sitting down again.
"And then?" asked Pearl.
"And then we can sign you up for a walk-on; maybe more. First, I want you to kiss this guy. You're an actress, so do it properly. You ..." he pointed at the stage hand, "... You're the star and she's been encouraging you. Kiss her like you want to see how far she'll go!"
The guy grabbed Pearl in the classic Hollywood pose; dipping her over his left arm. Then he kissed her; his right hand low on her hip. She knew he would make the most of this. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and his hand dug into her hip. It moved inwards and his thumb slid round to the front of her thigh; it was pushing against the edge of her panties, well below the waistband.
Yes, she was an actress, and had done love scenes before. She'd even done them with amateur chancers who went too far on the night. Pearl knew the best way to get through it was to actually enjoy it. She kissed him back and sucked his tongue in; her fingers playing with his hair. But when his thumb pressed too close to her pussy, she pushed him off.
"Enough! You want any more, take me to your room!"
Nat clapped and laughed, then looked at the stage hand.
"OK. You can get back to work now. We'll let you know!"
When he'd left, grinning, Nat said "One last thing. I want you to take your dress off."
"And why would that be?" she frowned.
"This groping and flirting with the waitress has given me an idea. I can see it fitting in with the scenes where Bren has to lay low for a while. His character would be on a high after the successful assassination. I imagine him hooking up with a waitress for a one night stand. But if it all starts with him admiring your legs, I need to see them. That dress is too long for a waitress. Lifting it above your waist will suffice."
"Well ..."
"How was your audition babe?"
Pearl told him everything; including the outrageous kiss. Ian laughed.
"I can hardly blame him for trying it on. You're gorgeous!"
"Then I had to lift my dress."
"What?"
"It's all right. The casting guy wanted to see my legs. I was wearing this summer dress and a waitress would be in something shorter. If they write my scene into the screenplay, Brendon Summers is supposed to admire my legs."
"The star himself?"
"The very same. It all starts with my legs. They can use stand-in tits and arses for the big stars, but with walk-ons they make do with what they've got; hence the brief inspection. Apparently mine are very shapely!"
"No argument from me."
