Once upon a time, I was eight year-old Eric Northman, the youngest boy to win an Academy Award for a supporting role. Twenty years later, I'm that guy whose been in some stuff, kind of looks like that other actor who's way more famous, and sometimes pops up in tabloids linked to some actress or another. 'Romantically', as it was presumed.

This is supposed to be my next big thing. The big hope for a comeback, according to all the media buzz. Pam has been grinning from ear to ear since she picked me up at the airport yesterday. Today, she beamed twenty watts brighter when she picked me up for the junket.

Not because she's my agent and this is a potentially big thing for my career. She's just your run of the mill sadist.

Between interviewers she'd wave at me with her Blackberry in her primly manicured hand, smiling too brightly just so no one could mistake it for sincere. I was trying to be on my best behavior, but she was obviously goading me to cause some kind of a scene.

Clearly, she wasn't concerned about job security.

I tried to keep the rhythm going. Stand, greet, sit, smile, keep smiling, answer questions, stand, goodbye, next.

Every interviewer has their own little gimmick to stand out. Sometimes they'll ask off the wall questions like if I ever ate marshmallows with peanut butter. Or this guy, who I was shaking hands and thanking for taking the time to come out, looked like a bad Elvis impersonator, post drug-addiction.

"Thanks from the readers of Bubba Blog, always a fan, little man," he pointed a finger at me like a gun and clucked his tongue. Pam wasn't even trying to hide her giggles. I swear I heard her slap her thigh. She was enjoying this entirely too much.

'Little man' was a throw back to my claim to fame. I'm six fucking six feet tall now, and even if I grew another foot before I die, I will always get people calling me that. It isn't terrible, except after twenty seven quick interviews, and more than half have used up the gag to dead.

Pam, braver than any man, stepped up onto the platform they'd set us up on and handed me a compact of matte finisher to touch-up. I was playing mature enough not to snatch it from her hands.

"You're doing fine..." her throat cleared. I suspected she wanted to call me by my famesake, but wasn't going to push it any further. I should've felt relieved. "You just got the one left. Then you're free to go."

I touched up the shiny spots on my face. I could afford an assistant to be around to do it for me, not since my last girlfriend, and Pam wouldn't fill those shoes since enjoyed reminding me of my poorer decisions.

"Just one more," Pam said again, this time with a hand on my arm.

I glanced at her arm, assessing it as a meager version of an apology, and then back at the small mirror in my hand.

"'l'll even clear a path to the elevator for you, and make sure no one tags along behind," she was typing on her Blackberry as she continued talking to me, holding her hand open for me to hand her back the compact. I gave it back to her, and her hand made a vague gesture, "Unless you want me to send in that one redhead, you know, the one who said you reminded her of her third husband. She had a pleasant southern drawl." Pam's voice tapered off, and I realized my next interviewer was behind me. I knew it had to be a woman because Pam was leering.

The cameramen came in front of me to check my mic, and I was adjusting the collar of my shirt. I felt a hand land on my shoulder, and I caught the woman's scent. It was light, sweet - natural. I was trying to place it; it was almost nostalgic.

I turned around and her hand fell from my shoulder and I was greeted with a blinding smile. I offered my hand to her, noticing, oddly, that her hair was the same color as mine. Her features were delicate, and I could've sworn I'd seen her someplace before. I offered my hand and hers glided into mine: "Eric Northman."

"Claudine Crane, it's a pleasure," she introduced herself. Her hand moved from being inside of mine to around my forearm. "I don't want to seem rushed but, my cousin's wedding's today so-"

I let out a breath that was almost a chuckle. I wasn't sure why I'd gotten so caught up just now. The way she approached was as if she knew me better, but really she just wanted to get a move on. And by the way she looked at me, she didn't seem to expect a more casual greeting, so I ruled out that we had met somewhere before. "Oh, yes of course," I said, as I moved back to my seat, and under the spotlight. Claudine sat down across from me, and waited for me to give her some cue. I gave her a slight nod.

"Alright then. Mr. Northman, in this movie you play..."

The rest of the interview proceeded little to no different than before, though I filed the odd encounter someplace in my mind for future reference.