The Perfect Audition

The Perfect Audition
Kate Forster

Digital download exclusive story: discover brand new starlet, Kate Forster, ahead of her debut novel The Perfect Location.Three women play their part in the glitter-soaked circus that is Hollywood: Calypso, the naïve innocent; Sapphira, the ambitious action-star, and Rose, an older icon, recovering from a divorce with a celebrity Playboy.Follow these women as they audition for a Hollywood epic that will lead them to discover the bewitching world of love, fame and scandal and just what it takes to live happily ever after when you are a star.

Kate Forster

The Perfect Audition

Copyright

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

AVON

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www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

Copyright © Kate Forster 2012

Kate Forster asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

All rights reserved under International Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks

HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication

Ebook Edition © MAY 2012 ISBN: 9780007489411

Version: 2017-05-04

Table of Contents

Title Page (#u081797d3-2FFF-11e9-9e03-0cc47a520474)

Copyright (#u081797d3-3FFF-11e9-9e03-0cc47a520474)

The script was… (#u081797d3-5FFF-11e9-9e03-0cc47a520474)

Read on for an exclusive extract from The Perfect Location (#litres_trial_promo)

Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

The script was flawless. It was a script that director TG had been waiting for. A magical blend of humor, tragedy and love, and the dialogue literally sang on the page. Three romances, during a summer in Italy. It was a big picture with even bigger expectations from the studio and the public.

The Italian Dream was the film the studio needed to take in huge box office earnings and they had put everything into ensuring its success. This started with hiring the best director for the job. They needed a passionate, workaholic who understood women.

‘TG’, as everyone in the industry called him, was Tim Galvin. The hottest, young gun director in Hollywood. An NYC film graduate, he made his mark directing videos for some of the LA garage band scene. He liked to shoot quickly, he liked quick edits and he loved to have fun on set. He could be crass and immature, but he did this to stay in with his crew who he needed to be on his side. They trusted him and respected him. When decisions needed to be made, he made them and his affable demeanor complemented his exceptional work ethic and relentless pursuit of getting the right shot.

When the studio presented the script to TG’s agent, he baulked at it. TG did action – not drama and romance. He was known for his movies having loud soundtracks, sexy actors and huge budget-breaking action scenes. The agent thought TG would pass. Surprisingly, TG was ready for a change. He was sick of car chases and martial arts and he was tired of LA, where his latest starlet girlfriend had dumped him for her new leading man.

Eight weeks in Italy will do it, he thought. Then he would disappear for a while, sailing the Sardinian coast till he had to start post-production.

The script was truly lovely. In fact, the cynic in TG was almost quashed, till he remembered his ex-girlfriend telling him she loved him but she had to move up in her relationships to move ahead in her career.

TG had imagined her in the role when he had first read the script, she would have been perfect. He had offered it to her on one of their last nights together, she had seemed non-committal about it. Three days later when he found the letter taped to the Michelin Tyre mirror in the lounge he understood it was not just the role she wasn’t committed to.

Casting the film was never going to be easy. Once the high-powered agents and stars of Hollywood found out there were three plum roles for women in a film about love, shot in Italy, the hype was insane. Stars started to lobby themselves when their agent had no luck. The studio brought in their own ideas and their own level of pressure but TG was adamant. If they wanted him, then he got to cast it.

He couldn’t even go out to eat in LA as so many stars and wannabes threw themselves at him. TG had been offered more sex in the last few weeks than Hugh Hefner, and several times it took all his effort to turn down a few of the more fascinating and beautiful women.

TG wanted actors for this one, real actors, who brought with them their own individual fan base. He needed a young woman who was appealing and had not yet had her face on the front of the National Enquirer with a police board of numbers underneath and a stoned expression. A thirty-something who could hold her own against a big star. And finally, he needed an actress who could play forty for real. Not an easy feat in Hollywood. The women were tending to become ageless, in an odd and creepy way. The more chemicals that they stuck into themselves, the more they lost their features and the wisdom etched on their faces.

He was reading the script at his small bungalow on the studio lot. Surrounded by toys and film posters, some his own productions and other movie classics, his office space looked like a teenager’s room.

Pinball machines, basketball hoops, foosball tables and plastic collectable toys covered the shelves. TG’s MTV Movie awards and Golden Globes sat on the top shelf, gathering dust.

Sitting in his Eames chair TG chewed on his pen. He was surrounded by headshots and tapes of actresses with unsolicited auditions. Casting was so important. The women in this film had to hold their own story lines as well as interact, portraying genuine female friendship.

“TG, you have final auditions in fifteen minutes,” his assistant called from the other room.

“Fuck,” said TG and he grabbed his phone and then sped off in his silver 1954 Porsche 356 Speedster. With the stereo blasting out Frank Sinatra’s Live at the Sands, TG was oblivious to the stares that were directed at him. With his blond curls glinting in the sun and his Persols sitting on his tanned face, he was often mistaken as an actor.

The car skidded into the parking lot of the unassuming office block and TG sauntered into the office and greeted the casting assistant waiting for him.

“How we going?” he asked as he walked into the large room, set with a video camera and a few chairs decorating the sparse room.

“Good, we are down to the final three for each role, I sent the tapes over on Tuesday,” said the assistant leafing through her notes. “Diana is on the phone, she’ll be with us in a moment.”

Diana, the casting director walked into the room bringing her New York style to LA. Black on black with an Eve Ensler bob and no makeup spare a slash of deep red lipstick. TG had met her in New York at film school when he begged her for free extras for his final film and she had agreed after seeing his show reel. He was a talent even then and she hitched her star to his wagon and had cast everything for him ever since.

“You watch the tapes?” She barked at TG as she sat down and lit a cigarette.

“Yeah I watched them.” He said and sat down next to her.

“And?” She pushed blowing smoke into the airless office.

“I need to met them, see them in action, gauge their styles.” He sat back as the assistant bought in bottles of Fiji water and soft drinks and placed them on the table.

“I fucking hate this water,” looking at the tray in front of him. ‘Why do we even need water from Fiji? What’s wrong with our water?’

“That’s not very LA of you.” Laughed Diana, “I though it was the drink of your tribe.’