Scarlett walked back down the hall slowly, pausing by the elevator bank. All she had to do was hit the button and she could get away from this mess.

Sit there and look clueless, she said to herself.

Maybe she could play a completely clueless person. She had typed and written part of the script, so at least she sort of knew it. If she forced herself back into that room…this was a chance to impress Eric unlike any other.

At the very least, she had to go down and let Spencer and Eric know what was going on. She let herself back into the studio, where they were discussing how to stage the scene.

“Mrs. Amberson is leaving,” she said. “She has this stupid idea that I should play the girl, but…”

“Why not?” Eric said. “We need another person.”

Spencer looked less sure, and looked like he was about to say something to that effect when there was a buzz at the door.

“Showtime,” he said, clapping her on the back. “Guess you’re in.”

THE HEART OF THE EMPIRE

Donna Spendler didn’t look very vicious standing there on the threshold of the studio. She looked a bit older than Mrs. Amberson. Her hair was shoulder-length, perfectly coiffed. It had long gone gray, but she had had it colored so that it was a glistening silver, with many highlights and tones.

Spencer ushered her in, looking every inch the assistant.

“I was surprised to get your call,” she said. “Pleasantly so. And you caught me just at the perfect time.”

“Glad to hear it,” Eric said coolly. He stood and extended his hand. “I’m Paul, the casting director.”

That was his agreed-upon name. Spencer (who had gleefully renamed himself Dick) extended his hand. Scarlett quickly chose the name Tara.

“Did you get the sides we messengered over to your agent?” Spencer said.

Sides, Scarlett reminded herself. The script pages were called sides.

“Right here,” Donna said. “I read them in the cab on the way over, so I’m still a little green.”

“No worries. We can go through it a few times before we roll.”

“Is it just the three of you?” Donna asked.

“There are a lot more of us,” Eric said, pointing to the unconnected, dead video camera. “Video feed to LA. They’ll be about ten or fifteen people watching on the west coast.”

God, he was good. Scarlett’s only hope now was that her computer didn’t start belching smoke or just explode for good measure.

“We’re just going to read through it first,” Spencer said, throwing Scarlett a quick look to see how she was coping.

The reading was easy enough, even though Scarlett didn’t sound remotely like an actress. She was, however, a natural at the “sitting and looking clueless” part. There was a bit of a snag when they got to the part where the girl was supposed to start crying hysterically. Scarlett couldn’t make herself cry. The only person she knew who could do that was Ashley Wallace at school, and Ashley was a well-known psychopath. At that part in the script, Scarlett just slapped her hand over her eyes to represent crying.