Jearl Rugh, Author: 6 Born to Make the Kill

Natalie stepped into the busy neighborhood diner. The comforting scent of deep fried onions rings, grilled ground beef, and marinara sauce—nothing I’d eat—greeted her as did the warm smile from her friend, Maggie Jacobs. Natalie waved and made her way through the crowd. She slipped under the black laminate table onto the forest green bench seat on the opposite side of the booth. Her nose curled up as she gave her friend a mysterious smile.

With a grin demanding the truth, Maggie said, “So? Tell me!”

After Natalie left the studio yesterday, she sent Maggie a teasing “Wait ‘til you hear what happened today” voicemail, but they hadn’t yet connected.

“Coffee?” asked the server who had followed Natalie to the table.

“Please,” Natalie replied and noticed Maggie’ hands wrapped around a white mug having already had this brief conversation.

“Cream?”

She glanced up to a plump girl about her age with blotchy red cheeks and stringy brown hair. Her name badge said, “Sue.”

“No just black, thanks,” Natalie answered.

“Would you like a menu?” Sue asked as she poured Natalie’s coffee. Her perfunctory tone indicated even though she was young, she knew her life could end up being an endless stream of memorized coffee shop questions about beverages, menus and desserts. Natalie, on the other hand seemed to be in pursuit of a speechless career—lights, camera, but little action.

“Yes, thank you.” Natalie said and held out her hand.

Sue slid the menu from under her arm, handed it to Natalie and topped off Maggie’s cup all as if on autopilot. “I’ll be right back to take your order.”

As she retreated, Natalie watched her walk back to the counter. Sue rested her hand on the shoulder of a male customer sitting on a stool and paused long enough for him to slip his arm around her waist. She empathized with the girl. Sue was an actress too, destined to a life of using her sexuality for better tips.

“Well?” Maggie asked.

Maggie lived a few doors down from Natalie in the same apartment building. A couple of years older, she was the first person to befriend Natalie when she had moved to town. Since they were both alone in LA, they had made a pact to keep tabs on each other. Maggie had told Natalie that her face was too plain to be on film, and besides, she was too shy to be an actress. But she always seemed eager to hear Natalie’s stories about the famous people she worked with—whatever drama Natalie would spill.

“Okay, okay,” Natalie said and leaned forward toward the table. “I told you I was doing a scene yesterday with Ansell Parker, right?”

“Yeah, go on.”

“Well, I was playing a dead girl—”

“What’s new?” Maggie said and chuckled.

“I know, I know. Old joke! Well, I may not be playing dead much longer.”

“Why, what happened?”

“At the end of my scene, while the cameras were still rolling, he kissed me. I was just the dead girl and Ansell Parker kissed me.”

“So … I take it that wasn’t in the script?”

“No, and it was no peck on the cheek, either, it was right on my mouth.”

“So … then what?” Maggie asked. She twisted a small strand of short rust-colored hair around her finger. It slipped loose, so she worked to grab it again.

“Then nothing,” Natalie said. She took a swallow of her coffee and leaned back into the bench. “The director said, ‘Cut, print,’ and everyone disappeared. I think they were anxious to watch the World Series.”

“That’s it? How does that move your career from dead girl?”

Natalie raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes. “Well, Ansell did stop to congratulate me on the scene and then there’s the other thing.”

“Other—?”

“What can I get for you ladies?” Sue interrupted, pen and pad in hand.

The two hadn’t noticed the server’s reappearance nor looked at their menus. Natalie and Maggie opened them, scanned the selections and placed their orders.

“We’ll have that right up,” Sue said with a mechanical smile pasted on her face and then turned to head back to the counter.

“What other thing?” Maggie prodded. Her deep brown eyes danced with excitement.

“Well, I can’t really tell you everything,” she continued, “‘cause it’s top secret.”

“Really? You tell me you have great news and then won’t put out? Come on, give me something.”

“Okay, okay,” Natalie agreed. She surrendered a sly smile and a wink. “I’ll tell you as much as I can.”

“I guess that’ll have to do. Let’s have it.”

“So, when I headed to my car after the shoot yesterday, there was a man in the parking lot waiting for me.” She looked around the diner and found no one close enough to hear. She lowered her voice and continued, “His name is Tony Alonso. He’s an associate producer for a film company. It’s the man behind the company who sent him to look me up.”

“Who’s that?”

“That’s the part I can’t tell, but you’d know the name, believe me. He wants me to do a screen test.”

“You’re kidding? You’re going to do it?”

“Of course I am!”

“When is it?”

“Tonight at ten”

“Tonight … ten? Isn’t that kind of late? Are you okay with this?”

“Sure,” Natalie said and nodded her head. She looked at Maggie as if she should understand that the workings of Hollywood are not of this world. “Because of the secrecy around the project, they have to be very discreet. Sometimes this is the way it works.”

“What do you know about this guy?”

“Nothing, he’s just a guy in a parking lot,” she replied, and leaned forward, the gold flecks in her smoky eyes sparkled as she continued, “who might be able to make me a star.”

“What if this guy’s not on the level? Did you check him out?”

“No time. I had to work at the grocery last night ‘til close and then again all day today. I just got off.”

“He could be an ax murderer, Natalie.”

“Seriously? You’ve been watching too many cult-slasher films.”

“What does your agent say?”

“Haven’t told him and don’t plan to.”

“But he’s on your side.”

“Doesn’t feel like it lately,” Natalie said and shook her head.

Once she hit LA, she schlepped her portfolio around to agencies until she found someone who agreed to sign her. Fiftyish and pleasant enough, her agent sported a monkish fringe of hair, a rotund belly and a blossoming nose, the result of too many three-martini lunches. He got to work right way, though, and set her up with a casting call.

She landed the role in a pilot for a television show targeting the after school market. Set in a fictional LA high school, her character, a snarky teenager, delivered her one line from the back of the classroom. When the history teacher asked, “What brought about the Boston Tea Party?” she quipped, “Everyone knows it’s ‘cause those Bostonians preferred lattes to tea.” The pilot, however, never saw the small screen, so the project was scrapped and with it, Natalie felt like her chances got tossed in the dumpster.

So, with almost two years passed, she had become convinced her agent hadn’t been promoting her best interest. Auditions were rare. Most of the time, he represented from a photo array like mug shots at police headquarters. She had no voice. With an agent, she had to wait for someone else to say, “I’ll take that one.” He saw her as nothing more than screen candy, and once she reached her eighteenth birthday, with her face and body curves, the studios were anxious to sign her just to get a cheap nudity rating.

Then, just two weeks ago, she had expressed her aggravation to him. He said, “Let me see what I can do.” But the placating tone and the wink of his eye told Natalie the truth. It was more what she would have to do to get him to work harder on her behalf—favor him with a night between the sheets. Up to now she had resisted that tack but with her career momentum in the doldrums, she had begun to consider a one-time dalliance, if it had promise, might be what it would take.

_____

Can’t wait for more; go to Amazon.com to add this to your bookshelf.
For more about me, visit http://www.jearlrugh.com/ or Facebook