Donna and Spencer actually did read the parts like actors. It was strange for Scarlett to hear her words spoken back to her. She fought the urge to correct them, to tell them how it sounded in her head.

“Good,” Spencer said, when they were done. He said it with as much enthusiasm as he could without seeming like her brother trying to be nice about a terrible performance.

Donna was eyeing Scarlett carefully. The one thing that must have been one million percent clear was that Scarlett was not an actress. A small, very dim child could have figured that out.

“Are you…” she began, “are you in the show?”

“Tara is the coproducer’s daughter,” Eric chimed in quickly. “She’s doing us a huge favor today. You have no idea how tight this situation is. We’ve never had to cast a lead in one day before.”

It was a breathtaking save, and one that brought instant warmth from Donna Spendler. Now that Scarlett was Tara, daughter of a producer, and not just Tara, general idiot…there was a warm, almost maternal vibe.

“You’re doing an excellent job,” she said sweetly. “I’d never have known you weren’t a pro.”

“Thanks,” Scarlett said dryly.

“Now let’s do it for real,” Eric said, pretending to switch on the camera.

So they did it again. And again. And again. Eric watched and called “LA” (Mrs. Amberson) a few times to see if more was needed. LA always needed more. Scarlett was so fried she thought she’d cry if she had to read those lines again. Spencer and Donna, being professionals, kept going strong. After the eighteenth take, though, Donna called proceedings to a halt.

“I feel like I’ve done all I can with that,” she said. “Without direction, I mean. At this point, we’re just repeating ourselves.”

That’s the point, Scarlett wanted to say. But secretly she wanted to hug Donna for making it stop.

“Sure,” Eric said confidently. “Let me give them a call.”

He vanished into the hall with his phone. Donna went to the corner to drink from her bottle of water and do some neck rolls. Spencer gave Scarlett a sly shoulder bump of support as he went over to the table to move the headshots around, as if he was doing something useful with them.

“Okay,” Eric said, returning. “They just need to see one more thing. We’re going to need to try a little improv scene with you and…Dick. Tara, you can come and sit over here with me.”

This was new. Mrs. Amberson clearly needed time. It didn’t matter to Scarlett as long as she didn’t have to be in it anymore. Now her job was to sit next to Eric. That, she could do.

“This character has a violence problem,” Eric explained. “We want to see a scene in the station where Alice really oversteps the bounds. Can you get rough with him?”

As Donna and Spencer squared off, and Eric made up a situation, there was a convulsion in Scarlett’s abdomen, a physically painful twinge.