Read Online Aspen Gold by Janet Dailey - Free Book Online
Authors: Janet Dailey
Tags: Romance, Historical, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Women's Fiction
Ads: Link
involved himself only with the callbacks. Thus far there'd been only a handful of actresses called back for a second reading.
John stood at the window in Nolan's office, taking no part in the discussion going on among Nolan, Chip, and the casting director, Ronnie Long. He looked past the
palm trees at the rounded roofline of Studio Four. There, spaceships, hotel lobbies, bordellos, and family living rooms were created out of backdrops, props, and ingenuity. The movie business was an industry of illusion.
Phony trees, phony buildings, and phony emotions.
Behind him, the casting director said, "What about Ann Fletcher? I still think she gave us the best reading of any of them."
"She's too hard." Chip pushed out of his chair and paced over to Nolan's desk. "Eden has to have a hint of vulnerability."
Nolan rocked back in his leather chair and clasped his hands behind his head, breathing out heavily as he peered at the ceiling. "Kathleen Turner, here we come," he murmured.
The intercom buzzed, checking the outburst of denial forming on Chip's tongue. Nolan rocked forward to answer it. "Kit Masters is here for her reading," his secretary announced.
"Right." Nolan shifted through the papers on his desk until he found her composite. "Send her in."
John wandered over to Nolan's desk and hooked a leg over a corner of it, his eyes on the door when it opened and Kit walked in.
She'd dressed very simply, he noticed, in a summery white dress in some loose-weave material, cinched at the waist with a wide, leopard-patterned belt. She colored the room, putting something into it, something like a faint charge of electricity. He took out a cigarette and lit it as she greeted the others.
Turning to him, she glanced at the cigarette.
"Smoking those things will kill you, John T."
"So I've heard."
"It's your funeral." Her amused look held a touch of pity.
"Haven't you heard?" He raised an eyebrow in faint mockery. "Only the good die young."
She laughed at that, the sunniness of it lighting up the room. "And you are a bad, bad man, aren't you, John T.?"
"Totally wicked," he agreed. He was almost sorry she wasn't right for the part of Eden. He would have enjoyed matching wits with her on the set ...
among other places.
All business, Chip passed Kit a
set of stapled sheets from the script. "We're using the confrontation scene in the bedroom. If you need some time to go over it--"
Kit skimmed the dialogue on the first sheet and shook her head. "No, I'm familiar with it." She was conscious of the tiny roiling knot in the pit of her stomach. Nerves, they always gave her that little edge, a tension that pushed her to her best.
"I'll cue you--" Chip broke off the sentence and swung toward John, frowning. "Or do you want to?"
He'd planned only to watch. There was enough pressure in auditions without adding the intimidation factor of reading with an established actor. But he knew the scene and the thought of doing it with Kit Masters was irresistible.
"Why not? I'm here." He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray on Nolan's desk and straightened from it, taking the excerpted pages from the script Chip handed him. "You don't mind, do you, Kit?"
Something in his attitude told her he expected her to give a lousy reading anyway.
Good. She liked challenges; they made her sharper.
"I don't mind."
"Do you want a lead-in?"
"No." She took a deep, quiet breath and glanced through the scene. It was far from a simple one. It called for emotions ranging from ice to heat, from pride to anger, then passion. Each had to flow naturally into the other. Kit took a minute.
John watched her. She looked more like a bright-eyed ingenue than the sensuous, secretive woman the scene required. Then she turned toward him, a regal tilt to her head, her blue eyes icing over with a hauteur that took him by surprise.
"I don't recall inviting you to my bedroom." The small lift of an eyebrow echoed the cool challenge in her voice.
"An oversight, I'm sure." He
John stood at the window in Nolan's office, taking no part in the discussion going on among Nolan, Chip, and the casting director, Ronnie Long. He looked past the
palm trees at the rounded roofline of Studio Four. There, spaceships, hotel lobbies, bordellos, and family living rooms were created out of backdrops, props, and ingenuity. The movie business was an industry of illusion.
Phony trees, phony buildings, and phony emotions.
Behind him, the casting director said, "What about Ann Fletcher? I still think she gave us the best reading of any of them."
"She's too hard." Chip pushed out of his chair and paced over to Nolan's desk. "Eden has to have a hint of vulnerability."
Nolan rocked back in his leather chair and clasped his hands behind his head, breathing out heavily as he peered at the ceiling. "Kathleen Turner, here we come," he murmured.
The intercom buzzed, checking the outburst of denial forming on Chip's tongue. Nolan rocked forward to answer it. "Kit Masters is here for her reading," his secretary announced.
"Right." Nolan shifted through the papers on his desk until he found her composite. "Send her in."
John wandered over to Nolan's desk and hooked a leg over a corner of it, his eyes on the door when it opened and Kit walked in.
She'd dressed very simply, he noticed, in a summery white dress in some loose-weave material, cinched at the waist with a wide, leopard-patterned belt. She colored the room, putting something into it, something like a faint charge of electricity. He took out a cigarette and lit it as she greeted the others.
Turning to him, she glanced at the cigarette.
"Smoking those things will kill you, John T."
"So I've heard."
"It's your funeral." Her amused look held a touch of pity.
"Haven't you heard?" He raised an eyebrow in faint mockery. "Only the good die young."
She laughed at that, the sunniness of it lighting up the room. "And you are a bad, bad man, aren't you, John T.?"
"Totally wicked," he agreed. He was almost sorry she wasn't right for the part of Eden. He would have enjoyed matching wits with her on the set ...
among other places.
All business, Chip passed Kit a
set of stapled sheets from the script. "We're using the confrontation scene in the bedroom. If you need some time to go over it--"
Kit skimmed the dialogue on the first sheet and shook her head. "No, I'm familiar with it." She was conscious of the tiny roiling knot in the pit of her stomach. Nerves, they always gave her that little edge, a tension that pushed her to her best.
"I'll cue you--" Chip broke off the sentence and swung toward John, frowning. "Or do you want to?"
He'd planned only to watch. There was enough pressure in auditions without adding the intimidation factor of reading with an established actor. But he knew the scene and the thought of doing it with Kit Masters was irresistible.
"Why not? I'm here." He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray on Nolan's desk and straightened from it, taking the excerpted pages from the script Chip handed him. "You don't mind, do you, Kit?"
Something in his attitude told her he expected her to give a lousy reading anyway.
Good. She liked challenges; they made her sharper.
"I don't mind."
"Do you want a lead-in?"
"No." She took a deep, quiet breath and glanced through the scene. It was far from a simple one. It called for emotions ranging from ice to heat, from pride to anger, then passion. Each had to flow naturally into the other. Kit took a minute.
John watched her. She looked more like a bright-eyed ingenue than the sensuous, secretive woman the scene required. Then she turned toward him, a regal tilt to her head, her blue eyes icing over with a hauteur that took him by surprise.
"I don't recall inviting you to my bedroom." The small lift of an eyebrow echoed the cool challenge in her voice.
"An oversight, I'm sure." He
Similar Books
