It was almost impossible to fall asleep. The sound of the bass from the club pounded like impending footsteps against her exhaustion. Taylor was unfazed by it. Having found a companion, he felt replete. They were cuddled under two flannel sleeping bags that had been unzipped to function as blankets, each leaning against opposite sides of the back seat, when Taylor made a confession. “I want to be an actor,” he said. “I’ve been saving up for a year and a half now to go to LA.”
He reached into the front pocket of one of the bags below his feet and pulled out a piece of paper that was now soft with wear, handing it to her. It was an advertisement he had printed off of craigslist.
WORK/STUDY POSITION AT LA’S PREMIERE SITCOM ACTING & WRITING SCHOOL
We are currently looking for creative people for our Work/ Study Program. Excellent attitude and willingness to learn a must. Social media skills are a plus. These are work/study positions – ongoing weekly acting class in exchange for a four-hour work shift each week. That means you come to our studio twice a week – once for your class time and once for your work/study shift. All terms and conditions for attending class apply.
This is an amazing opportunity to grow as an actor/creator/writer by staying in an environment where you’ll be guided into a career. Make one of LA’s top acting schools your home base and surround yourself with dedicated, career-oriented actors and writers at a dramatically reduced price. Our studio has the best reviews of any acting studio in the city. Check out our incredible five-star reviews on Google and the testimonials on our site. Minimum six-month commitment. We look forward to hearing from you!
Aria handed it back to him when she had read it. She could feel the way he cherished it. “Isn’t it awesome?” he said. “If I can get there, these people will teach me to be an actor. I’m gonna go next week.”
“What do you like about acting?” she asked.
“I guess I like becoming someone else for a while,” Taylor admitted. “One of the schools I went to used to put on plays sometimes. I loved being on the stage and just forgetting myself. I’d pretend I was the character I was playing and I’d try to feel what it was like to have their past instead of mine. I guess it feels good to just not be me for a little while.
“Plus I wanna be rich and I love to be the center of attention.” He giggled as he owned up to it, then went on. “Plus I’ve got a friend there who said I could work at the restaurant she works at until I get accepted at the acting studio or land an acting gig, whichever comes first.”
He was silent for a few seconds and then, as if hit by a stroke of insight, peeled back the corner of his side of the blanket and said, “You should come with me if you can. The bus costs two hundred bucks. I bet you could even work with me at the restaurant when we get there.”
He looked at her like he expected an answer from her right then and there. She smiled at him and raised her eyebrows as if to say she’d consider it. Satisfied with the response, Taylor pulled the blanket back to buffer his face from the cold of the window, closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against it.
That night, after Taylor had fallen asleep, but before she could, Aria imagined herself as a waitress. She reached for the inviolable feeling of self-sufficiency.
She imagined waiting tables. She imagined what she would wear. Though it felt out of reach, she loved the idea.
She imagined LA to be a land of promises, a place where no one could hold you back from personal advancement. She could feel the sun on her face, she could imagine palm trees, which she had only seen in pictures but never in real life.
Just before she fell asleep, she found herself wondering what the leaves of palm trees really felt like, whether they were hard or soft. It didn’t matter whether this vision of her future was given to her by someone else. What mattered was that suddenly she had one.
CHAPTER 8
On Sundays, at the community Christian church, the preacher stood in front of the pews, using a lectern to buffer himself from the onlooking crowd. Behind him, white organza fabric had been fashioned, like a curtain, to hide the bare wall behind it. Affixed to the center of the scene was a giant wooden cross, illuminated by cream-colored Christmas lights.
Aria was sitting in the pews. The sound of the lecture was drowned out in the churn of her thoughts. Aria had found hope in the idea of going with Taylor to Los Angeles. It was hope she had no intention of relinquishing. There was just one problem. She didn’t have any money. Having exhausted every potential for making the money that she needed, she had finally resolved to steal it. It was now a matter of where to steal it from. Before settling upon church as the best place to go unnoticed while getting ahold of someone’s wallet, it seemed she had spent the entire day running through different scenarios in her head. She eyed the purses sitting on the floor or beside women in the pews. She tried to profile people for how much of an impact the loss would have on them and for who might have the total amount she needed, instead of only part of it.
Halfway through the service, three musicians stepped up in front of the room. Their imperfect tones were loud on the notes they
