Page 74 of What I'm Looking For

“That must put a lot of pressure on you,” Steve says.

I nod. “Yeah, I mean, I put a lot of pressure on myself no matter what. But the producers do have a lot riding on this.”

“I don’t know how you?—” Steve starts.

“Will, we need you on set!” the second AD calls, interrupting Steve.

I wave to let her know I’ve heard, then turn back to my visitors. “Sorry, I gotta go, but I think I can get you situated first.” Still holding Kate’s hand, I search for a PA. I’ve done my best to learn their names this time. “Jimmy! Hey, these are my friends Kate and Steve. Cliff said they could watch at the sound cart. Would you mind taking them over there?”

“Sure thing, Will.” The skinny redheaded kid grins and gestures toward one of the tents, holding tight to his clipboard. “Right this way.”

“Thanks, Jimmy.” I squeeze Kate’s hand. “I’ll see you in a bit. Hopefully we can talk before you have to leave.”

After giving her another quick kiss, I jog over to the bench, handing my script to the second AD before sitting and closing my eyes to allow the makeup person to dab at my face as I go over lines in my head again. I really hope I don’t screw this up.

* * *

“I can’t believeyou’ve never worked on a film before. Your instincts are spot on, Will.”

“Wow, thanks. That means a lot coming from you.”

It’s the end of the week, and Graham and I are sitting on what now feels likeourpark bench for the fifth day in a row, waiting for the crew to change the camera and lighting setup. Usually we’d head back to the trailers to wait, but the director said it’d be a quick turnaround. Graham claims that we’re actually moving along at a good clip, especially for the size of the budget, but that’s hard to believe.

He stretches his legs out in front of him. “Why haven’t you done this before? You’ve been out of school, what, five years?”

“Six, actually. It’s just… I guess I’m just a theatre geek at heart.” I squelch the defensiveness that even I can hear in my tone. I have a lot of respect for Graham. “I’ve been working constantly onstage since I graduated. I didn’t want to complicate that with running around to auditions for commercials and stuff.”

He wears an expression I’ve seen from his character, like he’s been around the block a few more times than I have.

I shake my head. “Just say it.”

He spreads his arms wide on the back of the bench. “Nothing, but—you’re a bartender, right?”

When I nod, he raises one scruffy, graying brow. “I know actors who are still bartending at forty, fifty years old. And they are not happy. Their feet arereallynot happy. Eventually, working for peanuts gets old. Being poor wears on you.”

I look out over the park where a now-familiar crowd of curious tourists stares at us like we’re animals in a zoo. “When did you start doing on-camera stuff?”

“I did anything and everything they’d pay me to do—voiceover, industrials, commercials, TV, sometimes even stuff that barely paid if it was good work—as soon as I got out of school.”

“Even stupid commercials?”

“Whatever paid the rent. I’d rather get paid to act than scrounge for pennies in other ways.” He shrugs. “But that’s me.”

“Graham! That reporter’s here to do the interview!” The second AD waves from the trailer. “Will, you can take a break. Sorry, guys, we’re on hold for twenty,” she shouts to the crew.

Graham stands, a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, if you want an intro to the other casting directors in town, I’m happy to do that for you.”

“Thanks. Wow. Yeah, I’ll take you up on that.”

Graham ambles over to the second AD, who’s impatiently bouncing on the balls of her feet. While part of me still resists this work, steadfastly—or stubbornly—hanging on to the idea that theater is the only place where “real” acting happens, another part of me knows that his mentorship would be invaluable.

I lie down on the bench, looking up through the trees to the blue sky beyond. I’d love a theatre career like Graham has. Maybe doing all that other stuff made the roles Graham’s played onstage possible, rather than impeding his progress. Maybe I am just being pigheaded.

My mom and Deb and Kate would probably agree with that assessment.

And then it hits me. I could use the money from this job to cover the fees and travel for the Society of Stage Combat Directors conference in Las Vegas. Going through their fight director certification is high on my list of career goals.

I sit up. Wasn’t that kid Jimmy saying he and his buddies were looking for a project to shoot and edit for some class? I scan the faces of the crew hanging around the camera truck. When I find Jimmy’s, I jump up to jog his way.

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