Please note: This does not have a happy ending. Precede with caution.
Disclaimer: I own the plot, Stephenie Meyer owns the characters.
"Alice Brandon was seen out and about in LA last night," the television blared and I groaned, rolling over. "She was heard talking to her co-star and complete hottie, Jasper Whitlock, on the phone as she entered her apartment building. While her beau is off in New York, Miss. Brandon seems to really miss him. Our sources tell us she's glued to her cell phone and the two are inseparable; even long-distance won't keep them apart! How romantic and—"
Jasper rolled over and ran his calloused fingertips down my thigh, smirking as I squirmed in protest. He leaned over me and took the remote, turning off the television that we had left on last night, kissing my jaw line as he settled back beside me. He wrapped his arms around my waist; pulling my back against his chest and nuzzling into my neck with a heavy exhale.
"Good morning," I murmured, my voice a hoarse whisper. He moaned a reply, neither one of us moving. How he got to California without the press noticing him, especially entering my apartment complex with paparazzi swarming the place every hour, I'll never know.
"Do you want coffee?" I asked sleepily and he grumbled an incoherent reply into the bare skin at my neck. I took that as a yes, but as I moved to get out of bed, he grabbed me tightly around the waist and pulled me back against him.
With his lips pressed against my ear, he growled, "don't move." I closed my eyes and turned around so I was facing him. His face was half-buried in the pillow, one emerald eye cracked open to squint dazedly at me. A small smile spread across his face and the dimpled crookedness would have me weak at the knees if I were standing. His hair was a blonde unruly mess, sticking up all over the place both from last night's escapades and the night's sleep (and maybe even just how he kept his hair—or how he didn't keep it).
His thumb brushed over my hipbone and his stare softened to a loving gaze. Neither of us broke the silence. I reached out a hand to cup his cheek, memorizing his face, every dimple and scar from his rambunctious childhood. I truly believed I was the luckiest woman in the world. Who knew a girl from a small town like Biloxi, Mississippi would ever end up with Jasper Whitlock, the talented heartthrob of every generation?
It all began when I landed the role in his first producer-and-actor role, Kinetic Hello. The plot surrounded a hopeless romantic writer and bookworm, Charlotte (me), who travels across the country for inspiration. She meets Peter (Jasper) in a diner in Philadelphia, where he immediately sweeps her off her feet. The movie ends with a bit of a cliffhanger: it's assumed they're back together when Peter proposes and Charlotte agrees, but every engagement can end.
Jasper proposed quite a few times, but that's another story. Perhaps we should rewind a bit and go back to the moment we first met instead of fast-forwarding to the post-coital morning after. Right? Yes.
I walked to my audition that day and entered the dull gray building to stand behind a line of people, checking in before taking a seat on the floor and waiting my turn. I glanced to my right to see women of all shapes and sizes, some fixing their clothes, some mouthing exercises, some clutching their cell phones as if it held their life, and others were gossiping, looking up and down the other girls and noting their physical imperfections. I shut my eyes and curled further against the wall trying to brace myself for the audition.
I was a model: strictly commercial modeling, paid by my friend, Vera, who had begun her own business out of her home and needed someone to model the clothes for her online store. I had little to no income and managed to get a job at the local Hilton Hotel as a hostess, greeting the guests as they came in, but never checking any one in or doing much of anything. With the little money I had, I paid my manager and I sustained my clothing addiction.
My brother referred to me as the little fashionista. Even when I couldn't pay my rent for the month, I would still have enough money to buy fabric to make my own clothes. I was an aspiring designer, but my manager told me I was a little too ambitious, to work on one goal at a time. Actress first, clothing line later.
If I landed the role it would be a dream come true. The infamous Volturi production company took it on—meaning it was nearly impossible for the movie to flop. There were all experienced actors to back up the film. Including the lead male: Jasper Whitlock.
Yes, Jasper Whitlock, the one experienced actor who had graced this film with a few thousand dollars and his name as producer and actor for publicity. He had been acting since he was little, starring on hit sitcoms as soon as he could walk and talk. I grew up watching him on weekday nights as he progressed from child star to handsome heartthrob. I had been apart of the generation of fanatics who pledged their love to him in fan clubs that later turned to the cyber world.
This explains the flood of women in the lobby. Of course, Jasper, like every decent young man, was unavailable—or rumored to be. Maria Moreno had been beside Jasper in all the tabloids since they were teenagers. She had been signed onto this movie to play opposite Jasper, but had scheduling conflicts and backed out. Hence my presence and the hundreds of women around me.
Still, I wasn't interested in romance or getting to shake hands with the southern gentleman. I was interested in launching my career. Befriending a celebrity would be a great perk, but I wasn't building myself up for any promising friendships.
However, my indifference as to who would be in the next room didn't ease my exceeding heart rate. My hands were shaking, my palms were sweaty, my arms ere trembling, my body was vibrating with anticipation. Would I make a fool of myself? This was it. This was my chance; this was—
"Alice Brandon?" a voice rang out from the doorway. I looked up from my spot curled up on the floor and immediately jumped up, now realizing my height difference. Four eleven Alice was not cut out for this. I sheepishly wove through the crowd to the door where a man with a clipboard eyed me up and down critically, taking my headshot, minute resume, before addressing the crowd.
"Everyone who has already had their audition, please wait outside the building. Mr. Whitlock will be taking autographs once the auditions are over," he called loudly over the giggles and accumulating whispers of teenage girls. As he opened the door wider for me to enter the dark room, two security guards slipped to my sides. I found that a bit comical; how could a barely-five-foot woman do any harm to a fully-grown man?
I walked further into the room and the guards let up a bit, moving to opposite sides of the room as I took the center of the room where the set lay out. The couple in the movie met at a small diner in Philadelphia. In the audition space there lay a battered laminated booth with a red speckled plastic table with a napkin holder and various condiments along with two menus. I looked over at the table where three chairs were set, two of them filled, and one empty.
"You are Alice Brandon, correct?" a brunette bombshell asked, her curls fanning her perfect heart shaped face and extenuating her cheekbones. I nodded dumbly and she smirked with an intimidating stare, beckoning me forward with her index finger. I immediately went up to the desk and she handed me a two-page read through. "We're sick of the script we gave you," she said with a shrug as I took the paper. "Enough girls have bludgeoned it to death. How about the diner scene for a try?"
A blonde wide-eyed young woman glared at me next, looking me over perilously. "Jasper stepped out for a minute, but you can read along with Demetri," she said with a grin, looking over my shoulder. I followed her gaze to see whom I presumed to be Demetri leaning against the booth.
"Milady," he bowed his head and I smirked, the tension releasing for a minute. I looked down at the script in my hands. Charlotte sits at the booth staring out the window, Peter approaches and the dialogue begins. Easy enough...
As I approached Demetri, he held out a hand and we shared a brief polite introduction before he aided me and told me to sit and to relax. I slid into the booth, crossing my legs and tapping my foot aimlessly. Charlotte was a free spirit in the synopsis, a bookworm in her own right and she preferred solitude. She loved sappy romance novels and soap operas, but was determined she didn't need a man for happiness. She moved to the new location for a change of scenery, as an aspiring author needs. Thus, I pulled out a little Jane Austen from my brown canvas bag as a little added prop. I flipped it open somewhere to the middle and began skimming its pages; beside it I left the script on the table.
Demetri approached, smiling and leaning against the back of the red plastic-coated chair. "Why is a lovely lady such as yourself alone in the corner of a diner on a Friday night?" I heard a door open and close on the other side of the room, but didn't flinch.
"Was that a pick-up line?" I read the line briskly, sharply, my voice steady. I felt like I was out of my own shell. My mind was elsewhere as I read the lines and stepped into Charlotte's shell. I once again ignored a sound from the two women as a chair was dragged across the floor and whispers erupted.
"Did it work?" Demetri replied, his head dipping down to persuade me to tell him otherwise.
"Sit," I said, narrowing my eyes and leaning back in my chair, closing my book, but marking where I left off with my index finger.
"You didn't answer my question," he quipped and I smirked.
"I thought it was rhetorical," I replied easily. He raised and eyebrow and I sighed, looking down at the script then back at my book. "I thought a diner would be an easy way of avoiding pick-up lines," I said, dropping a beat before adding a sarcastic, "apparently I was wrong."
Demetri looked down at the table and smiled sheepishly. "I'm Peter," he introduced and I waited a beat or two, just like stubborn Charlotte would. "And you are… going to make this very difficult, aren't you?" he asked with a dry chuckle.
"Why should I tell you my name?" I quipped, my eyes pouring over the script in front of me. "How do I know Peter is your real name anyway? This is the typical bit, right? Naïve girl is brought home by a quick-witted, charming, handsome young man and she will wake up the next morning to see she is alone, right? She'll end up talking all about herself, all about her life's ambitions, pouring out her heart and soul while the man will pretend to listen when he's merely undressing her with his eyes and—"
"Slow down," Demetri interrupted with the next line. "You assume my pick-up line was to get you into bed with me? If I wanted that I wouldn't go to a diner," he said with a light chuckle.
"I'm going to cut you off there," a sultry bass interrupted us from the other side of the room. I looked in his direction and couldn't quite make him out on that shadowed side of the room. He glanced at the other two women, mumbling something about running another scene before he looked back over at us. "Demetri, you're done, let me have a go."
Demetri sighed and slid out of the booth, bowing sarcastically with a mock salute before walking over to the other women as the man approached the booth. Six-feet tall, blonde unruly hair, worn leather bomber, white v-neck tee, dark-wash jeans, scuffed cowboy boots, and piercing emerald eyes: Jasper Whitlock.
"I'm Jasper and you're Alice, am I correct?" he asked with a knowing smile. I nodded and as he held out his hand, I took it without thinking of what I was doing. I had never thought of this man as "dazzling" and "irresistible" like many women my age—or many women in general, but as I shook his hand, I felt my body jolt with nerves.
"Nice to meet you," I managed to say as our hands parted.
"Can we run that scene one more time?" he asked sweetly, obviously a born charmer. I smirked a bit at his palpable change in tone when he asked something. I nodded eagerly and he smiled as well. "Great."
For the next hour we ran the diner scene, the scene I had in my original bit of audition material, and the final proposal scene. Going from the booth to the middle of the room and back again, we used every available space. After a few line flubs from either of us, we would end up laughing or giggling, starting over with patience and ease.
"And now the ingénue flees the country," Jasper read as Peter, crossing the room to stand just a few inches away from me. "I tell you I love you and you book a flight out of the country."
"I told you I wasn't looking for a permanent relationship!" I exclaimed easily as Charlotte. "Love seems pretty permanent, don't you think?" I growled, taking a daring step forward, causing him to take a step back. "If you love something, you let it go. So let me go, Peter," I ended in a mere whisper as my eyes scanned to the bottom of the page to read the words: [They kiss]. Whoa.
"I can't," his voice was the same: a mere whisper, husky with intensity and dripping with emotion. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him and I gasped, the script dropping to the floor. "I'm selfish, Charlotte, and I won't let you get on that plane." What was my line? "Marry me," he continued. What was my line? His face was a mere inch from mine and I closed my eyes, too dazed to care; his breath, a mix of bitter coffee and spearmint, warming my face.
"Alright, that's enough," the blonde called from her seat across the room. Jasper's grip immediately loosened and I let out a heavy breath, looking toward the women as I stepped away from him as he went over to speak to them. I went back over to the booth and sat down as I heard their faint whispers. I managed to catch, "You've been with her for an hour. That's more than enough time!"
I vaguely wondered what was taking him so long, but obviously it was a good thing… right? He wouldn't keep me for an hour—had it really been an hour—if he just wanted to cross me off the list, would he?
He approached me now with a smile. "Almost done," he assured me, reaching the other side of the booth. "We're going to adlib, alright?" he began, his green eyes reading my soul. I nodded at the challenge, trying to focus on his words. Jasper wanted to make sure I could handle the character. He wanted to know that I knew Anna backwards and forwards or as much as needed for a foundation. "I'm going to ask you questions just as an outsider, a basic interview. Answer how you think Charlotte would answer, okay?" his southern drawl drew me in and I nodded, opening my copy of Jane Austen again.
"You moved here from Washington state, but why Philadelphia?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Why New York; why Paris?" I answered with a smile. "Why not Philadelphia? It was also a pretty cheap plane ticket," I said and he smirked, nodding and glancing over at the two women in the opposite direction. I didn't turn, but locked my eyes on him.
"Jane Austen?" he questioned, looking down at my book.
"Classic romance," I explained. "Danielle Steele is the modern crap they have out today and quite frankly, I'm stuck on the originals. Shakespeare, Austen, the clichéd romantic gurus. You say one quote from either of them and you have a girl on her knees," I finished which earned me another smirk and now dimpled smile from Jasper.
"Do you agree with her time, the necessity of marriage?" he pressed with a final tone as if this were my last question.
"Men don't bring happiness, men bring stereotype," I answered. "Show me one man who doesn't expect a woman to clean, cook, and do all the housework and I'll change my mind." The next moment was a silent one. He looked at me, I at him. I could see the wheels turning in his head, the moment of truth: would I get the role or would I be working at that hotel forever?
"Alice, right?" he spoke—two hours and he was still unsure of my name—I nodded slowly. "Congratulations." What?
"Jasper, you can't just give her the part, we have to discuss—" the blonde woman protested.
"Not to mention we have hundreds more women to go through," the brunette interrupted, but Jasper locked eyes with mine, shaking his head.
"I have a good feeling about this. Besides, we're on a tight schedule since Maria left; we don't have the time to go through another hundred girls and she's good. Plus, it's a fresh face; the press will eat her up," he said with a smirk, looking over to the other women on the panel. My heart was pounding in my chest and I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words.
"So does this mean I—" I began, my voice quite, timid. Jasper turned his attention back to me before chuckling a bit to himself.
"Yes, you got the part. Jenks, come over here for a second," he called to a man I couldn't see behind the panel of women. "But I want you back here tomorrow at noon. We need to tailor all of Maria's costumes so they fit you," he said, turning his attention back to me as the middle-aged man approached and my smile grew. Still, I didn't move an inch and he raised an eyebrow, questioning my health. "You okay, little darlin'?"
I nodded as I watched him smile and dip his head once before he slid out of the booth and began walking toward the other women. "Thank you!" I called to him, but he kept walking as he answered with an amused, "you're welcome."
A balding man in an expensive Italian suit came to my side with a stack of papers and nervously spoke a mile a minute, handing me a contract he had on hand. They must be really off track if they needed the person to sign today, but I didn't care and didn't consult my manager as I signed the dotted line.
I was cast. I had my big break. Now all I had to do was deal with hundreds of women in the lobby, who wanted to take my place and would stop at nothing to do so… Wonderful.
This was a story I posted a while back, but just re-did the entire first chapter. I'm going to be posting sporadically, but reviews would be great! Thanks for reading.