Heartthrob Read Free

imagining the thrill she’d feel if they could somehow get Ralph Fiennes for the part of Virgil Laramie. At union scale. Yeah, right. Snowball’s chance in hell. But Ralph’s face was the one she imagined every time she thought of that broodingly dark character. And lately, she was thinking about Laramie far too often.
    She’d created the character, and he’d come to life as she’d written the script. He was complex—a swirl of seemingly impenetrable darkness that becomes infused by the bright light of hope. He’d crumbled beneath all the pain that life had hit him with, but then he’d learned to stand and even walk again—carrying more than just his weight.
    Kate was more than half in love with him.
    As the screenwriter, it mattered that the actor chosen to play Laramie be right for the part. But her practical side knew both she and Victor most likely would have to compromise. If they wanted this movie to get made, they simply could not spend much more time on the casting process. They had their funding now, and those financial backers wouldn’t wait forever.
    As the producer of this movie, she had four million other things she should be thinking about besides casting. In an effort to cut costs, she was responsible for scouting locations herself. She should be down in South Carolina right now.
    Victor ended his call and turned back to her. “Sorry, babe. What were we talking about?”
    Kate wanted to scream. Instead she put down her coffee mug and gathered up her briefcase and jacket. “I’ll be in South Carolina if you need me.”
    “Katie—”
    “Cast this part, Victor,” she told her ex-husband. And then she straightened her shoulders, assuming Frau Steinbreaker’s near-militaristic stance as she flexed her producer’s muscles. “Or I’ll find myself a director who
can.
”
    She almost ruined the effect by laughing at the look of complete shock on Victor’s face as she marched out of the room. It was nearly as effective as having her head explode.
    Jed pushed his way into the casting agent’s waiting room and stood in line at the desk that held the sign-in sheet.
    The crowded room smelled like raw nerves—cold sweat, indigestion, and bad breath. It was silent, too, despite the fact that over thirty men sat in chairs that lined the walls. There was a low table in the center that was covered with magazines, but no one was reading. Some of the men had their eyes closed, others were busy checking out the competition, quickly looking away if anyone else looked up. Eye contact was minimal.
    Someone coughed, and Jed heard a sound that had to be teeth grinding. The anxiety level here was off the scale.
    It made him feel completely calm in comparison.
    Jed filled in the next empty line on the sign-in sheet, taking his time to write his stage name in clear block letters. There was no space on the sheet for him to list his Oscar nominations.
    Jed glanced at his watch as he sat down, marking the time as he once again did a quick head count. Thirty-three people. If each man took only two minutes, he was going to be sitting here for an hour. If everyone took five, he’d be here for more than twice that.
    He settled back in the folding chair, fighting the annoyance that rose in him, fighting his need for a cigarette, flatly ignoring his need for a drink.
    The good news was that no one had seemed to recognize him yet.
    “Mister … Beaumont?” The mousy young woman who came out to check the many pages of the sign-in sheet was looking around the room.
    Jed sat forward. “That’s me.”
    “Did you bring a head shot?”
    He stared at her. A head shot. When was the last time he’d needed a photo of himself? When was the last time he’d actually gone to this kind of audition? It had to have been at least ten years. More. “Uh,” he said. “No. I, uh, didn’t. I’m sorry, I …”
    The mouse frowned slightly. “Didn’t your agent tell you that this was a serious audition? There’s a movie director in