I closed the door behind him, then padded back to the parlor. Ashley’s go-getting green eyes glimmered as she looked up at me.
“So tell me more about you,” I said. I was pretty adept at reading people, but I wanted to be sure she was the one, and that required a bit of chitchat.
“I moved here from Wisconsin,” she said. “Seven years ago now.” Well I got that part right.
“What do your parents think of your decision to pursue acting?” I was curious if her parents supported her dreams unconditionally and indefinitely, as my children had expected me to do for theirs.
“My dad passed two years ago,” she said, then added, “heart attack,” even though I hadn’t asked.
“I’m sorry.” I didn’t tell her that a heart attack had taken my husband at a similarly too-early age, and that I understood how such a loss can recolor a life.
“But he and my mom were cool with it,” she said. “As long as I could support myself.” I thought about my own children, how they’d scoffed at the idea of taking over my agency when I had offered to give it to them. Of course it was my fault they’d declined. Why would they want to work for a living when they already enjoyed the spoils of a successful business without having to lift a finger?
“So you’re pursuing acting without any financial help from your family?” I asked, knowing it was a rude question, even for me. But I had my reasons for wanting to know.
“I never expected my parents to support me after college!” she replied, somewhat pridefully. “I was allowed to live rent-free at home for two weeks after I graduated. After that, I was on my own.”
After raising two children who had all but demanded I subsidize new cars and homes, her pronouncement was music to my ears.
“And how is your acting career going?” Not well, I hoped.
“I miss a lot of auditions because of my day job.”
“Oh! You have a day job!” Right again.
“A few of them, actually.” And that was all I needed to hear. I made a snap decision. It was possible I could persuade this young innocent to be my coconspirator, but I had a much more reliable method at my disposal: I could trick her.
“I may have an acting job for you,” I said, suddenly glad that Nathan wasn’t here so I could get right down to business. “But you’ll have to audition.”
“Oh! Of course I would audition,” she assured me. “What kind of acting job?”
I had to think on my feet here. “A crime procedural,” I said. “Not the most prestigious offering, I know. But it pays well.” And that part was true.
“I’m up for anything!”
I tried not to wince at her eagerness. I was eager like that once. In the beginning, it’s all striving and possibility. And then—by your hard work, a stroke of good luck, or confluence of both—you “arrive,” and find yourself standing on the platform with nothing but empty space around you and nowhere to go but down. And you cling to the things you toiled to accumulate because you know they could be ripped away at any time—by a botched performance, an unhappy client, a debilitating illness. A life on top is a life of fear; the people who invested and believed in you now expect you, need you, depend on you, to stay on top. But what they don’t know is that staying on top is even more difficult than getting there. And while the perks of success are lovely—big house, luxury car, fancy vacations—once you taste the “good life,” the fear of losing it all becomes your constant companion. I envied my new friend that she was still in the chase. At her age, my quaint hopes and dreams had been long replaced by relentless, stifling fear.
“The auditions were last week,” I improvised, “but I don’t think they found what they were looking for. I’d like to put you on tape, say tomorrow?”
Her face exploded with joy. “I can do tomorrow!” In her deluded optimism, she didn’t even question how an old, retired CD like me might know about an active casting—which of course I didn’t. But we hear what we want to hear, and her hopefulness served me well.
“I can’t believe my good luck,” she marveled. “And here I thought tonight was a disaster!”
“Your trespass was quite unexpected,” I said, recalling how agitated I had been to see her creeping around my backyard. “But that doesn’t mean we should waste it.” I wasn’t superstitious; quite the contrary. I simply recognized that a disturbance is an opportunity. And I was not one to let opportunity pass me by.