Suddenly it became a man, Daniel Scott [classic novels TXT] 📗

again until I heard them shouting the noise down.

I shot up to answer it ‘Ben it’s five thirty in the morning’

‘Yes and do you know what today is?’

‘Too early’

‘It’s the screening of Jacky Mendisa, you cameo for the upcoming sequel why aren’t you aware? This is your life I’m talking about, you don’t get anywhere without being seen lets go.’

We arrived early to take our middle lying seats to avoid any hassle, the journalists and magazine people had theirs, the stars including Jenna Phillip’s who was dripping ear to ankle with so much gold that no one so much as lay hand on her for the fear she’d ‘Buckaroo’, she sat luxuriously at the front.

The film played, Benjamin clapped hard and loud, Jenna cried as if she was watching herself for the first time, I thought it was boring, and for my six hours work on the film I didn’t even get a decent mug shot and they dubbed my voice with Barry White’s audio double.

Everyone spilled out of the viewing room into a lounge where refreshments were being served.

I made an effort shake hands with anyone who’d shake hands and was slowly passed from hand to hand into a corner next to a plant and an empty sofa.

I was about to give up and get very drunk when Benjamin came over with some good news at last.

‘Kyle Lesley wants to screen test you!’

‘You’re kidding, is it a movie?’

‘Yes it’s a movie, he said he really liked your voice and wants to screen test you for the lead in his new movie, “An October Lightning Storm” ’

‘I really do hope you realise that that wasn’t my voice?’

‘He doesn’t, look this is your shot, take it.'

Chapter Three: Aftershock

 

I felt like a film star.

The set had an air of freshness to it I imagined it could easily sell for a high mark if it were showcased to the public.

Everything was clean and minimal, except for the bath and a jumble of toiletry props and empty bottles that sat on a small table awaiting the director’s selection. I walked over to the bath excitedly ‘I’m supposed to die in here’ I noticed a curve in the base that promised to hurt my back.

I climbed into the bath trying to figure out how to lie comfortably dead, while still disguising that I’m not actually naked when Kyle Lesley walked in with parade of camera men and actors in tow.

I knew it was him, the words expensive and benefactor oozed from his attire and his reputation according to the media encapsulated them.

‘Here he is’ he announced with authority ‘lets get started’ though his nervous shifting eyes and defensive expression belied it.

The director jogged over to me and crouched at my side as I lay startled in the bath and started urgently reading aloud from a collection of loose notes.

‘The bath scene, okay cameras here, here and here are watching you there, there and over there keep your back off them. Boom is on you but speak up I need annunciation, don’t shout the levels won’t balance. You’ll face one edge up slowly to where you are now, slowly turn to two, that’s the sad lean really earn it. You’re sad, you’re sad you hear the door then break to three, you see your brother he’s jealous he hates you, you hate that but you really love him though. Wait, you see the gun then say the line. Remember you see the gun before delivering it “Shoot me, we both know I deserve that bullet, but if you do it, you’ll always just be my… little brother” okay first take in ten’

 

 

The last part stood out, ten minutes wasn’t very long.

‘The first take is in ten minutes?’

‘Yes make sure you’re solid and remember to see the gun first’

‘The gun first, okay but ten minutes isn’t-’

‘Yes of course improvisation that’s fine I’ll be back’

Leaving me in limbo he jogged over to Jean Parson another member of the cast stood with a lighting operator close to the set toilet. They then closely spoke together while nodding at the same notes that were read to me, I soon realised we were competing for the role and I wasn’t happy.

 

Jean was small time, he had an attitude face and arrogance to the point of stupidity; he rubbed everyone up the wrong way, especially my agent Ben, in fact I didn’t know anyone who liked him.

Ben had told me stories about when he used to be his agent, at that time he didn’t know Jean was prone to wild and vocal nightmares and one night he woke up hearing one, Jean was shouting “Get off me!” naturally thinking he was in trouble rushed up to his room to help.

He found Jean crying in the dark tangled in a bed sheet shouting and punching the air.

The lights go on and there’s no one but Jean, short of breath, looking dazed, stinking and covered in his own filth.

Ben asks “What happened here?”

Seeing that no one was around and nothing was taken Jean went on in a backward attempt to save face to try and convince Ben that actually he had been in a super natural fight with a ghost.

 

Jean Parson was a clown and there he stood giving me looks from the side of his face as the director fed him my lines and not ashamed of him self either, though that shouldn’t of surprised me.

In the last B film he had anything to do with which was to all intents and purposes about a neurotic cat getting into fights, he did the voice of a dog. And not the main dog either.

I on the other hand was an Actor trying to build a reputation worth noticing, that made me very susceptible to shame and I knew full well that there’d be far too much to bear losing out to the likes of him.

Ben had really stuck his neck out for me this time the pressure was on to get it right.

Ten minutes wasn’t long.

Kyle Lesley watched my performance through the lens of camera three.

‘Shoot me’ I said.

‘No, no louder’ demanded Kyle.

‘Shoot me!’ I shouted

‘The levels’ the director moaned

‘Shoot me!’ I cried

‘No what are you doing? Use your voice’ Kyle advised painfully

My throat went dry, Parson smiled like a villain, I filled my lungs and ‘Shoot me, shoot me, shoot me!’ bayed like rabid donkey.

Kyle pulled away from the cameras eye piece horrified, then signalled the director who came jogging swiftly over to usher me out of the bath.

‘Let’s go, let’s go’ he told me waving his clipboard as if fanning away a bad smell.

‘Sorry, I don’t know what happened. Can I give it another go?’

He wasn’t interested and seemed to have been nodding along the whole time I spoke like a tacky car ornament waiting for me to stop talking and to spew out his own lines.

‘No we’ve got a lot to get through, out now let’s go’

‘Listen honestly that wasn’t me at my best’

‘No we’ve got a lot to get through, let’s go’

‘You’ve said that already I’m asking for another chance’

‘I heard now, get, out’

 His malicious tone provoked me

‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’

‘Stand up, and, get, out’

I stood up.

Suddenly the new bath scene had every ones attention, to the extent that Kyle himself felt the urge to intervene. He called out to me.

‘Thank you good man I have everything I need from you, would you mind joining rest of the cast off set now? Good man.’

I was as professional about it as I could be; which wasn’t very much at all. After giving the director the finger and exiting the bath with a stumble I glared at Jean who tended to an itch on a part of his face that required him to turn it away.

The locking catch of the stage exits closed door sounded a click with me on the other side before anyone dared to start laughing.

I can guess who was the first.

 

The journey back to the hotel was agonising, my train of thought traversed a looping torrent of infuriating words, menacing images and faces all of them pleased at my bitter rejection and Jean Parson’s triumph.

After neglecting every road sign that whizzed by at an even twenty miles above the forty limit, until I met the turning for the Kipper Hotel at which I stayed.

A stray cat lost a life as I came screeching into the car park and to an abrupt halt, at that moment I half noticed something out of place.

The loose seat belt button had no belt to release when I pressed it in “that’s how you get yourself killed” I thought though I didn’t dwell on it for long the consuming ambition for an alcoholic resolution was still hurrying me.

Wallet and keys in hand I flew out of the door with rhythmic pace, confirmed my crooked placement possessed more than its allotted parking space, smirked ‘So what’ and marched toward the main doors with single mindedness, but someone had been watching me the entire time, steps from where I stood and paying close attention.

As bad things were for me at that moment, I never reached my room, the bar or even the hotel that night.

 

 

Chapter Four: Hammering it home

 

Ambushed! Three sudden men burst out from the unseen dark borders of my vision and seized me fiercely by the arms.

Held captive and swirling down to the ground I heard sirens, saw their uniforms and yielded my unnoticed struggle with regret and great surprise, I was being arrested.

Memories of the speed limit stammered my cries of injustice, as did my tires rubber trail left on the ground as I was carted into the Police marked van I had undoubtedly screeched passed.

 

Inside the Police station the conditioning cell walls condoned my every discomfort; the dark high ceiling supported a closed circuit camera at one of its corners, it sat inside protective casing positioned above a small metal toilet. The toilet was cold, sensor operated and devoid of any water, on its left side a hand a sanitizer was affixed, I had no intention of using either.

The bed come chair in the middle of the room was bolted to the floor, against one of the dull magnolia walls with two thin woollen blankets folded on top of it. Both blankets were made of itchy industrial quality synthetic material; they matched the colour of the black floor and the texture of loft insulation.

 

I was already over two hours trapped on all sides with nothing to eat or