Free Lucid by Adrienne Stoltz, Ron Bass

incredibly boring but avoids any negative I can think of at the moment. Wait a minute. What if I try
Love to I just have to move something around
? Less available, but dishonest. And I’m saying it’s so important that I’d cancel something else. Is that bad? I mean, I do want him to know that I’m desperate for the role. Maybe
Can’t make six, let’s do six thirty.
Only if he has a seven o’clock, he’ll just cancel and who knows if I’ll get another chance.
    And then, a whole other debate crashes down on me. What kind of drinks are these? Professional—or personal? Is this a
date
?
    If I keep this going until six, I won’t have to worry about it.
    I text
I think I can make that work. Looking forward
. A little bit of everything.
Push send. Push send.
    “Boris?” I say. “What do you think?”
    Thomas chooses a place that is notoriously impossible to get into. Not that the doorways are small, but they are guarded by snippy hostesses whose only pleasure in life is to pretend that they are better than you because they won’t let you into a restaurant that nobody would let them into either.
    I’ve actually made it past the sphinx guards of this joint before. A celebutante named Crystal in my acting class likes to take me and Andrea places. I would say that Crystal, like Genghis Khan, has been sadly misjudged by history, but she has been sadly correctly judged by Page Six. I like her, though. And I love the truffled mac and cheese at this place.
    I find Thomas at a quality table in the garden. He’s dressed impeccably but casual, and I can’t help but wonder how I’d look in his cashmere sweater. His hair sits soft and perfect, his face relaxed and handsome. The garden is lit with a glow, and I feel like I’m walking into a romantic movie where Thomas is the hunky lead.
    Seeing me, he pockets his BlackBerry, stands, kisses one cheek, and holds my chair. He smells good. He asks what I’m drinking. I ask him what this meeting is going to be about so that I can properly select. He likes that. He says, “Chapter one of you taking over the world. Or at least New York.”
    I order champagne and immediately feel the stab of fear in mybelly that I might get carded. Then I remember he already knows my age. The waitress doesn’t ask and leaves us to the business at hand.
    In these situations, an actress has to consider, or act by reflex or instinct, with respect to certain bodily movements. Does one touch one’s hair? Does one cross one’s legs so as to carelessly reveal only the knee or a hint of thigh? Does one lean forward while touching (though certainly not unbuttoning) the top button of her shirt? What is expected? What will be interpreted in what way? Body language while being interviewed by a male casting director can be a type of nonsexual foreplay. Having said all this, at my age I think all of the foregoing is risky. Consequently, I have to be careful not to do it. Which is not as easy as you might think. Particularly when confronted with someone as foxy as Thomas.
    “I’m a little nervous,” he says, which makes me feel better.
    “Don’t worry,” I respond with my best smile. “I promise I’ll take the part.”
    He does seem nervous. He keeps unfolding and refolding the napkin in his lap.
    “I’d like to see you have a real shot at this role. The truth is Rosalie or either of the two other actresses could knock you straight off the list. There are high stakes on this show, and networks tend to go for safer choices, which means faces they know. Although with the fourth lead they might well take a chance, particularly if we can lock in the star we want for Lara. I want to be completely honest, I don’t yet know if you’re best for the part or not.”
    “Look, I appreciate the lack of bullshit. And I appreciate the shot.”
    “I want to be honest about something else,” he says, and my heart jumps. “I want to get to know you better. There are nine years between us, and if that doesn’t