I had tons of work to do, I was submerged in developing this script. Each time I would attempt to shut the screen down, something else would pop into my head. I created scenes around frequent events, such as dinner dates. I listed my favorite restaurants. His part of the script was to play the man who knew me so well, he ordered my food.
RN and Fatima are at dinner at a four-star restaurant.
RN has just pulled out Fatima’s chair.
I gave guidance on what to do when planning dates, giving gifts and being supportive.
Fatima is at work and receives a gift from RN; handwritten sentiments are her favorite. She opens the gift and calls RN to thank him.
While I stroked away at the keyboard, Kia came in and startled me. “Hi, Fatima. You have a meeting in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. I’m coming.”
When I noticed Kia’s silhouette in the doorway, I huffed. She smiled and sang my name. I rushed to write an after-work scene.
Fatima is in a taxi after a long day at work and RN calls.
After saving my script, I rushed from my office. While the marketing team discussed strategies for one of next month’s releases, I scribbled in my notepad. What to do when Fatima’s sad? How to act with her family? What kind of dates does she enjoy?
RN and Fatima are walking through Central Park after a date. The night is breezy. Fatima folds her arms. RN takes his jacket off.
Before the meeting was done, I’d filled up two pages. As I perused the notes, I shook my head. Well, what matters most is that I’m paying for this service, so maybe I can get what I deserve.
Fatima is having a bad case of PMS and she asks RN to get her pizza at 3 AM. RN smiles.
By the time I met Mya for drinks four hours later, my script was near completion. I handed her the printout of the first draft. “Read my script.”
She looked at me from the corner of her eye. “Didn’t I tell you to take your medication?”
“Stop! That’s not funny. You know that stuff almost made me crazier than what I am.”
“If that’s the case. You’re right. Maybe you shouldn’t take it.” She flipped through the pages. The excitement on her face didn’t complement her monotone voice. “’Cause you’re really going off the deep end with this.”
I propped my elbow up on the bar as I watched her become engrossed in my words. The rapid pace in which her eyes shifted confirmed that if nothing more, it was a good read. As her body language mellowed, I knew she had fallen victim to my plot.
“So, you’re really serious about this, huh?”
“Yeah. Are you going to help me?”
“How long is the gig?”
“Um, just until this lonely feeling goes away.”
“That could be a long time. How long are you willing to pay for love?”
“For company.”
“Shit. If you’re paying scale, I’ll be your company.”
My nose wrinkled. “Um, if this is a twenty-four-hour-a-day job, what is the appropriate scale?”
“I just don’t think anyone is going to take this serious.”
I yanked her arm. “Just tell me.”
“It’s kind of hard to explain. Scale is based on the type of work: TV; commercials; film. And film is broken up into three different levels: low-budget; mid-range; full-budget.” She took a deep breath. “I just don’t know where this falls in.”
“So, you’re interested?”
“I mean. It sounds fun, but I’m wondering how we work the contract. Will anyone take us seriously?”
“Okay, we’ll draw up a six-month contract and rate it like a low-budget film.” As I watched her slip deeper into my drama, I scooted up in my chair. “What do you think?”
“You’re looking at about three hundred dollars a day.” She used the calculator on her cell phone. “That’s about fifty-five K for six months. You’re crazy.”
“That’s the money I get from Derrick’s estate. That’s not even touching the insurance money.”
She giggled. “Well, hell! Let’s go for it. We could make this a reality show.”
“No, I’m not down for that. We’re not going to have me all posted up on network TV. I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Hey, we may as well get paid for it.”
“Whatever. How are you going to cast the actors?”
“Oh, hell no! I’m not casting anyone. You are,” Mya said.
“How am I supposed to do that?”
She sipped her drink. “I’ll have a call out for men that match your description tomorrow. For the guys that I like, but don’t make the cut, I’ll tell them about this opportunity and see how many of them are down. You can set up your own casting. You know what you’re looking for better than me.”
I put my arm around her neck. “What would I do without you?”
She gyrated her slim hips like Lil’ Kim and chanted, “Who gon’ love you like I do? Huh? What?” She raised the roof with her hands and her large bangle jingled to the melody. “Who gon’ treat you like I do? Huh? What?”
Scene 5
RASHAD
Trying to become an actor should be described as the test of a man’s humility. Things I swore I would never do, I find myself willfully submitting to on my quest for stardom. An Asian lady stood over me, waxing every strand of hair growing from my torso. I squinted to avoid screaming as she ripped out the follicles. How many men would tolerate this torture?
When I walked into the casting for an underwear commercial, my question was answered. I wasn’t the only buffed, hairless Black man in the room. As I surveyed the competition, I was confident about my chances. Though I long to one day have a respectable role in a major film, it seems directors love me more the less I have on. Often I want to scream, “Damn it! Does anybody see that I really have talent?”
When I auditioned, I thought for certain I’d nailed it from the expression on the casting director’s face. Her large hazel eyes pierced through me as if she wanted to indulge in me for dessert. I sat in the waiting area for the first-round decisions. Several guys walked out with their heads hung low. As a matter of habit, I always give my competition a head nod.
When I was called into the room, I entered stoically. It will take more than rejection to destroy me. The casting director sat alone in the room. I searched for her cohorts. She chuckled and twirled her finger in her naturally curly sandy brown Afro. “It’s just me. I’m Mya.”
“Please to meet you, Mya.”
I grinned in celebration. Her face elongated and her high cheekbones protruded as she took the regretful deep breath. My confidence