Scam!

Frances Horibe

Description

Four out-of-work Canadian actors fake being an intact British acting family to win roles on an American sitcom. Will they trip themselves or will a real Brit expose their secret? Is it really just 'acting to get acting' or is the lying penetrating deeper into who they are?

Sujets

• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: VisionArts Inc
• Date de parution: 22 novembre 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780994929044
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 3 Mo

Extrait

Copyright: Frances Horibe 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this work covered by the copyrights herein may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means-graphic, electronic, or mechanical-without the prior written permission of the author.
Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data
Horibe, Frances Dale Emy
Scam!
ISBN 978-0-9949290-4-4
Cover design: Deanna Fenwick

Contents
Chapter 01 The Play is Off
Chapter 02 An Idea is Born
Chapter 03 I m In
Chapter 04 Faking Work
Chapter 05 O, What a Tangled Web We Weave
Chapter 06 When First We Practise To Deceive
Chapter 07 The Audition
Chapter 08 Dog Catches Car
Chapter 09 You Say Tomato
Chapter 10 Zoolbia
Chapter 11 Complications
Chapter 12 The Bird in the Bush
Chapter 13 Pilot Sold!
Chapter 14 The American Family
Chapter 15 Oliver
Chapter 16 He Knows
Chapter 17 A Defection?
Chapter 18 Staying in Character
Chapter 19 Patsy
Chapter 20 Signing Autographs
Chapter 21 A Reporter Knows?
Chapter 22 Oliver Reprise
Chapter 23 A Spin-off?
Chapter 24 Fame and Folly
Chapter 25 No Good Deed Unpunished
Chapter 26 Sabotage
Chapter 27 I m Going Up and You re Going Down
Chapter 28 The Press Conference
Chapter 29 The Best Thing on TV
Chapter 30 The Interview
Chapter 31 The Tangled Unraveling
Chapter 32 Facing Up
Chapter 33 The Good-bye Breakfast
Acknowledgements
Biography
Books by Frances Horibe
Chapter 01 The Play is Off
They sit in silence, the air sucked out of the room.
I can t believe it, Albert finally says, running his hand through that grey patch over his right temple.
Well, you d better, Lauren says, her dangling earrings snapping back.
Adriana had walked in when they were rehearsing. She was an ever-present sprite who said little but perched on the shoulder of the director, and afterwards he directed as if they had been his own thoughts. She attended the costume fittings, pondering this silhouette or that, fretting about the color palette, and ruling confidently on the changes. While the designer stood by, head down and writing. She corrected the actors lines and suggested edits which they took once they saw that the director looked away when she did it.
Albert was pleased that she came in just as he was reaching the climax of his long, and if he said so himself, touching soliloquy. Always good to have your producer know your worth even if the suspicion lurked that Adriana s money came from an indulgent boyfriend who wanted her occupied while he pursued other pleasures.
But instead of sitting on the sidelines, Adriana strode to center stage and cut through Albert s last pathos-filled words. I have an announcement, she said in that flat way which was emotion smoothed over rather than absent.
The others, who had been looking over their scripts or, in Christopher s case, checking his hair in the mirror, looked up.
Adriana cleared her throat as if something were stuck. I m sorry I am sorry to announce, her voice trembled, I the play is off.
What! they spoke as one.
She shook her head and a tear flew out. My backer my backer he s pulled out.
But we open in a week, Albert protested.
She just shook her head and bit her lip.
If the play does well, you might recoup your costs, Lauren pointed out.
Adriana turned on her fiercely. Did you not hear what I said? My backer is gone. You think an amateur hour production will cut it without him?
We re all members of ACTRA, Albert said with dignity.
Adriana snorted. So you ve scraped up the three acting credits. Do you think commercials and propping up amateur theatricals will pull in the crowds?
But the play is good, protested Lauren.
Adriana shrugged. So what? It still can t make it without backing.
But if the play is good, and we re so close to opening, couldn t you ask your backer Christopher started. Albert almost physically lunged to prevent the rest of the sentence but Adriana beat him to it.
It s all off, don t you get it? she screamed. It s all off! She ran from the room, angrily dabbing her eyes.
Silence. As if words, even the ones in the script, were no longer available to be called upon.
Finally, I can t believe it, Albert says.
Why so close to opening? Christopher says, one curl of his blond hair slipping onto his forehead. Surely her backer would see-
Both Albert and Lauren snort but she is first off the mark. God, Chris, you ve got to know how she got the money.
His bewildered look as much as his silence gives the answer.
Lauren speaks as to one struggling with the nuances of the language, She was stooping him.
Adriana was who?
Adriana was boffing her backer. He s moved on and taken his money with him.
But surely, says Eleanor in her apologetic voice, That s a lot of money just for a girlfriend.
Albert gestures much as his character does in the play, There s a lot of money in the city. It s not unheard of for rich men to finance a toy for their girlfriends.
She shakes her head but Lauren jumps in. How can we be at the mercy of a guy who s found a younger model?
With that ringing in their ears, they all hug and go their separate ways.
***
Lauren drops her bag at the front door. She should do her bills. And figure out what to do now that the money will stop. A sudden flame ignites within her. So scorching that she is startled. How dare they!
The anger is so strong that she is compelled to turn around and start down the street, moving faster than she should, knowing she will exhaust everything one way. She wants to run and run and run. Seeking that utter exhaustion where nothing exists but the next breath, when the sound of the heart drowns out other chatter.
There s always modeling. Catalog, yes, but she s in demand as a fit model too, since she can do teenager as well as young professional.
She hates it. The fit modeling especially. When they look at her body, not her. Especially the last time, even though it was no worse than others.
The designer s name was Marika-she picked that up although no one bothered to introduce her.
Marika circled, eyes never wandering higher than her neck. I don t like the drape here, she pulled at the flare just below the waist. It looks hippy.
Her assistant, nameless, poked the offending hip with a neon blue nail. No, that s the model.
And if it s hippy on me, how will it look in bigger sizes? But Lauren knows better than to offer a comment. It would be Pygmalion when Galata stepped off the pedestal. The mannequin talks!
It s ruining the line. Marika stuck a pin into the offending flounce and the tip pierced Lauren. She forbade the flinch.
Have it redone. Marika turned as she reached the door. Get Joanna next time. She doesn t have cow hips.
Lauren jogs on the spot for a red light. The run has worked its magic, as always. She started with a fire in her heart, fueled by anger and injustice and hurt. The running has blown it out leaving only embers of sadness and regret and resignation.
She looks around. She s only a couple of blocks from her mother s. She sighs. She hasn t visited for a while-not short enough for her but undoubtedly too long for Mom. She dials. Hiya. I m in the neighborhood on a run. Any chance of a coffee?
It is a nice house. Lauren is struck by this as she never had been when she was growing up in it. Solid, respectable. She laughs to herself. What I m trying to get away from.
Mom at the back door. You re in luck. I m trying out a new recipe. It s just cooling.
The fragrance of sugar and something else Lauren can t quite get-almonds?-perfume the kitchen. What is it? Lauren slides onto the breakfast nook bench.
English-Bakewell tart-raspberry jam and frangipani.
What?
Almonds, Mom puts a slice on a plate.
Lauren takes a bite. Wow, this is good! How come you never made this when we were growing up?
Mom smiles. Yeah, baking and working never seemed to go together.
Probably good-I would have been a blimp.
Mom sits. Yeah, now that I ve retired, the only one I m making fat is me. She runs a hand over her trim hips.
Ian, too, no?
Wouldn t you know it, he doesn t like sweets.
Lauren laughs. You should have put that in your dating profile.
Mom turns away for the coffee carafe. Lauren is glad she has made it work with Ian. Two years now, and almost five since Dad left. Good riddance.
Mom pours milk into her coffee. How s the play going?
Lauren snorts. Off.
Off-what do you mean? We ve already bought our tickets.
She shakes her head. The producer came in this afternoon to cancel. We think her boyfriend dumped her and the money dried up.
Oh, hon, I am sorry.
Me, too. To her horror, Lauren can feel the tears welling.
Oh, my, Mom shuffles along the bench to get close enough for a Mom hug. I know you were counting on it.
Lauren tries to forbid the tears but the opposite command seems to be received. I was finally getting a good role-I mean just the ing nue lead-but still.
Mom pats her hand. You would have been great.
Lauren looks up. I was good, Mom, I really was. And ACTRA rates, too.
I m sure you were. Mom pauses and Lauren knows what s coming. Are you okay? You know, I can always-
Lauren holds up a hand. Thanks, Mom, but I m fine.
I worry about you, hon.
Lauren suddenly remembers why she moved out. I m fine, Mom. Even she can hear the stop now tone but Mom continues.
You ve got to think of your future. The millionth time.
This is my future.
Mom sighs and in that sigh, Lauren hears all the arguments that eventually drove her from the house. It s a hobby. You need a real job. How many people can actually make a living acting?
But at least Mom knows that she can t say it anymore. Not and keep the peace. With a palpable effort, she says, How s Mike?
Don t know. I ve been dodging his calls.
I know. Lauren sits up. Mom makes a placating gesture. He s just worried about you.
He called you?
Just to make sure you were all right-that s all.
Lauren closes her eyes. Mom, this is none of your business.
You re rig