Fat Funny Famous

Chapter 2

"Hey, mate," I say to the guy sitting behind the casting table as I enter the room. "I'm Mila. Are you part of the production team?"

He's cute. A tall guy wearing a black beanie; his clear eyes shine underneath, eying me with curiosity. I'm too nervous to take much more notice of anything beyond that.

Since he hasn't answered, I plonk down across the table from him and fill the empty silence by saying, "I'm early – This is my final audition. I've got a chemistry read with the dude they cast as the prince. He's some big deal in Europe apparently, looks like a sexy blonde Viking if you go for that sort of thing. I don't care if he looks like a cross between Peter Griffin and a half-melted gummi bear, as long as I get the role, you know?"

He still isn't talking. I keep going. "I just flew in from Sydney, I landed about two hours ago and rushed straight here. I probably smell like aeroplane farts and the BO of the teen boy who was sitting next to me and fell asleep on my shoulder. At least, I thought he was asleep until he tried to grab my boob and I had to pour my water bottle over his head. Anyway – do you think this Erik bloke might have a secret fetish for unwashed Australian women wearing yesterday's underwear with a habit for drooling when they nap? That would definitely help the whole chemistry thing."

He sucks his teeth and says stiffly, "Ah, Mila, is it?"

"Mila, Mills, Milsy, M&M – whatever you like! And you are?"

A gaggle of people enter the room; several important big wigs, some production assistants. The casting director bustles up to me. "Oh, Mila, you're here! Great, and I can see you've already met Erik Brear, our Prince Alrick? Keep chatting, I need to go set up..."

She hurries off, leaving me with Erik, who stands and approaches me. He says softly, "Now, I don't want you feel bad about what's just happened. You didn't know who you were talking to. Please, don't let it dent your confidence."

There's a beat where he looks down upon me with pity, the ridiculously beautiful man with the regal demeanor, benevolent in his sympathy. It lasts as long as it takes me to inhale, because then I'm laughing hysterically, my guffaws bellowing around the room. "Oh, oh, my god! This is the funniest thing ever!"

"Mila, it's fine. No one needs to know about your mistake."

"Are you kidding?" I'm wiping the tears from my face, unable to breathe properly. "I will dine out on this story for years! I'm going to Tweet it the second I leave this room!  Oh, and I told you about my undies! Oh my god!"

I keep giggling; my mirth is exacerbated by the look on his face. "I thought you'd be mortified," he huffs.

"Nah. The way I see it, when stuff like this happens, it's laugh or cry." I finally manage a full breath. "I know which choice I'll always make. Okay, mate – I doubt I'll ever see you again after this, so let's have some fun today, yeah?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, unless you do have a thing for girls who overshare and under-shower, I doubt I'm going to score highly on the chemistry meter – so let's just enjoy the acting, have a play around, be silly, then go our separate ways while the producers find you a more princess-y candidate. Deal?"

I hold out my hand. He slowly reaches for it, enveloping my fingers with his, and something jumps between us, a flash of commonality despite our differences. My eyes flick up, meeting his, and my jaw drops open slightly, an unbidden reaction to his nearness. His gaze deepens, searing through me, and I watch him swallow, as if he's trying to quell his own reactions.