Staged Beauty

Everything inside of me was buzzing. My stomach was an Olympic gymnast doing back-flips and flip-flops; my head was so clouded it seemed like at any moment a hurricane would rip through the recesses of my mind; and the shivers that overtook my body had nothing to do with chill of the New York City air.

I'd been over my monologue a million times before this day came. Alice probably had it down better than me due to the fact that I had ceaselessly recited it to her the past three weeks. It seemed like I should have been used to this by now. After all, as a performer your main job description was really to audition. Somehow, I could never get used to the feeling. All the crowds, the prettier, probably more talented girls, surrounding you and making you feel insignificant; and the worst part, the trio that would be waiting for you inside. The producer, writer, and director; my worst nightmare come to pass. They would sit in front of you, like lions, waiting for you to make one wrong move, and then they would pounce. As if I needed trained professionals to tell me that I wasn't good enough to be in this business, I already knew that myself.

Just as I was about to convince myself that it was useless to audition for a part that I would never get, the cattle call was herded inside. I was pushed and shoved along with them. I hung to the back, a strategy forming in my head. At the end of the line, I would receive all the information that the first auditioners didn't have. Would we be doing cold readings, or worse, be dancing? I pushed that thought to the back of my head quickly, because if I didn't, I was sure that I would run away screaming down Broadway. Also, being last had its advantages. It's more likely that the auditors remember the last person to audition. So it was with a determined resolve that I surreptitiously crept to the very end of the line and tried to make myself invisible so that I could rationalize the situation.

It never really made any sense for me to go into show business. I was as shy as they come. The only times I really let myself open up were those times that I was around my family, or my best friends, or onstage. If it weren't for Alice, I don't think I would've ever discovered my passion for the dramatics. Of course, like every shy girl in high school, I was a book nerd. And I always had a fascination with Shakespearean drama. But it wasn't until Alice came to the tiny, insignificant, minuscule town of Forks, Washington that anything interesting would happen in my life. Alice was like a natural disaster of sorts. Well, that sounds bad, but it's true. When she came to town my world was turned upside down, and parts of me were altered forever. She was the popular girl. Already having a large appeal since we never had any new students in our infinitesimal school (population circa 300), she was made even more so due to her kind nature, outgoing personality, oh, and it didn't hurt that she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in the flesh.

The first day she came to Forks High School she looked as if she had walked off the Paris catwalk. We met in theater class, which I was forced to take against my will due to the fact that we needed a fine arts credit. I was in choir up until the eighth grade, and decided that I was already made fun of enough that I didn't need to add anything else on top of that. She plopped down right next to me and held out her hand.

"Alice Brandon, actress extraordinaire. And you are…?" she prompted me.

"Uh, Bella Swan, wallflower un- extraordinaire, pleased to meet you," I managed to stammer out.

It wasn't every day that a popular person even looked my way, much less spoke to me. But luckily Alice wasn't like most people. She was so extremely kind and fun to be around. We immediately clicked and became inseparable. Prompting me to audition my junior year for the school musical along with her, Alice helped me realize my acting potential, and I fell in love with the stage.

"Number 865." A shrill voice called in front of me, pulling me from my memories.

I panicked. I was number 874. There were only nine more people until I made the descent to the deepest pits of auditioning hell. Dread, cold hard dread completely filled me.

I didn't realize that I was hyperventilating until the beautiful woman in front of me turned around very, very politely, said, "Shut the hell up. I'm trying to get into character here."

Forcing my breathing to a human level I mumbled a vague, "Sorry," and went back to reciting my monologue in my head.

The first line was….wait. The first line was…. What is the first damn line? No worse, I couldn't remember the first damn word! I should have left, run for the hills, or the bar, whatever was closer. But somehow my feet refused to move. Trying with all my puny might I willed my legs towards my only beacon of hope, the exit. All was in vain however because my legs just kept moving forward towards the door of doom.

The hyperventilation was back with vengeance and the girl in front turned around again.

"Listen, this is really messing with my strategy of being a cold bitch, but, well you're looking kind of green. Would you like some water? If you vomit on me, I swear to God I will beat you so many different ways you'll have like one them."

The goddess handed me a bottle of Desani, grinned, and turned back around. I gulped it greedily and began to wrack my mind for anything that might trigger the first word.

Then, I heard it. It came from an angel somewhere. I frantically looked about the room for the seraph who was reciting my monologue verbatim and finally giving me a shred a hope, and then my heart plummeted to my feet. The beautiful woman in front of me was saying my monologue from "Death of a Salesman" with absolutely perfect articulation, clarity, and well…it was just good. Better. Better than the way I said it. Well, at least I know my first line now, I thought drearily.

Again I was headed for the exit when I heard the shrill voice call out again, "Number 873."

It was the point of no return. If I ran now, the gorgeous bitch would know I was a loser, but if I didn't the trio of death inside would shun me from all New York theatre forever. Suddenly a voice filled my head.

"Bella. I am not listening to this anymore! You can do anything you set your mind to. Attitude is everything Bells, make it happen."

Alice always knew what to say, even if she was just an apparition in my mind. But I would listen to the apparition, because if I didn't I would always wonder what might have been.

The supernatural woman confidently strutted into the room shaking her perfect butt all the way inside. I, having the lowest self-esteem of anyone I know, pressed my ear up to the door to hear her audition.

"Hello. My name is Rosalie Hale, and I will be performing Linda Loman's monologue from 'The Death of a Salesman' by Arthur Miller," I heard her melodic voice sing through the crevice in the door.

"Begin when you're ready," a bored voice sounded from across the room. Not a good sign.

"I'll be with you in a minute Charley," she began, some trepidation in her voice. "Ummm… I'm sorry may I begin again?"

"Of course you may," a sweeter voice sneered, almost too sweetly. Condescendingly sweet."

"Right. I'll be with you in a minute Charley…" Silence. A few seconds passed and not a word did the stunning woman utter in the room. Twenty seconds, thirty, almost a minute…until…

BAM! The force of the blow knocked me to the floor. Dazed, I blinked rapidly trying to get the stars out of my vision, when the woman called Rosalie poured all the contents of the Desani bottle on my face.

Her eyes streaming with tears she knelt beside me and said, "God! I'm so sorry! I just got so upset in there and…wait. Why was your face right beside the door?"

"We have the same monologue," I mumbled weakly, trying to wrench myself up off the hard floor.

"Damn, I got water all over you. Are you going to audition looking like this?" she asked, genuinely concerned.

"Oh hell yeah, how could it possibly get any worse?" I chuckled and got to my feet. The shrill lady tapped her foot, completely unperturbed by the raucous created by Rosalie and I.

"Sorry I just went utterly blank in there, and then I just had to get out of the room… I hope your nose is going to be okay! Break a leg in there," she held out her hand to me and I shook it, just glad to have broken through her icy exterior, but also sad it took her breaking my face to get there.

The shrill lady's eyes were now penetrating my own, as if daring me to go into the audition room in my current state. I had to admit, I did not look good. I could feel my nose starting to swell (hopefully it wasn't broken). My hair and face were drenched, not to mention the fact that I chose today, of all days, to lift my ban on wearing any sort of white fabric on my body. (I have a spilling problem… Alice bought me a bib for Christmas… Hardee har har) The purple lacy bra that I donned was making its public debut on the day of this doomed expedition. To hell with it! Suddenly as fast as the terror that overtook me came, it retreated. In its stead, enthusiasm and adrenaline coursed through my veins. I'm not sure where the confidence came from, but it was there, and I couldn't ignore it.

"I guess I'm next," I announced to anyone who was left to listen.

"Again, I'm so sorry…after the audition let me buy you some Starbucks, it's the least I can do!" Rosalie made it sound as if coffee was the only obvious penance for her iniquities, and I actually couldn't agree more. Coffee was my kind of savior.

"That sounds wonderful…uh… I didn't catch your name." I stammered, once again taken by the supermodel in front of me.

"Rosalie Hale." She said, extending her hand once again to me.

"Bella Swan. Great to meet you," I said, smiling back at her. Who knew you could make friends at auditions? I was pretty sure days like this usually ended in death threats and life-long vendettas. Life never fails to surprise me. Maybe it might surprise me more than I could hope…

With new fervor and zest I marched towards my impending demise, and once I stepped through the doorway I stopped dead in my tracks. It was as if the world ceased to be, as if the universe had been frozen, petrified, and all that was left after it thawed out was him. He sat across the room with his hands rubbing his temples in distress. Even through the agonized look on his face I could see that he was striking. No. Striking wasn't enough. Handsome didn't even begin to describe what he was. Beautiful, gorgeous, breath-taking, mere words could not do justice to his face. Dumbstruck, I stood, mouth gaping open like an idiot, staring at this celestial being, unable to form a coherent thought, much less a sentence. Then, the angel opened his mouth to speak.

"We're ready if you'd like to begin." His voice, although strained with fatigue, had the most melodious tenor quality I'd ever heard. My ears, I guess, didn't want to believe that the voice was true, so they perked up, hoping to hear the voice once again. Then the cherub looked down at the table he was sitting at, then back up at me, and our eyes met. His were the deepest hue of emerald you can imagine. I was lost, beyond lost, hopelessly and utterly gone. After what seemed like hours that our eyes were interlocked, but were probably a few seconds, the angel spoke once more.

His voice sounded unsteady, and his breathing seemed to have picked up when he said, "Have you prepared something Ms. Swan?"

"Yes," I croaked. My voice sounded like it hadn't been used in twenty years. I took a ragged breath and walked to the center of the room. It wasn't until that moment that I noticed the two other bored looking people to the left and right of the perfect one. I hadn't even been aware of their presence. On the right was a beautiful woman, tall, curvaceous, with the most vibrant red hair I had ever seen. Every pore on her body seemed to exude sexiness. Even with her professional attire, it still looked as if her outfit could have been purchased at Victoria's Secret. Her silk, teal, button-up shirt was unbuttoned way more than is usually deemed "professional", and her pinstripe blazer looked as if it was painted on. Her eyes were a fierce brown, although a much lighter shade than I was used to, and the florescent lighting made them almost glow red. To the left was a very conventionally handsome man. Nothing compared to the perfection in the middle, but still enough to make women swoon. He had long blonde hair, and icy blue eyes that were so penetrating it felt as if he were trying to view my soul through my own eyes. Sporting a Yankees jersey, I could tell that he was the picture of ease and comfort wherever he went. The perfect one, although he let his gaze fall, was exquisite. He was pale, muscular…yumminess. His hair was a dirty blonde, but with the most amazing natural copper tones in it, making his hair the most unique color bronze I had ever seen. All his features were flawlessly set on his face. He was wearing a white button-up that had become increasingly wrinkled throughout the day. He had on a simple black tie that had been loosened and hung limply around his neck. He was too sexy.

Okay Bella. Now would be a good time to speak. Any words will do, just say something. Now I know why Rosalie had bombed so miserably… how could you do anything but gawk at this man? Our eyes met once again, and I could see his blatant impatience. But then his expression softened and it felt as if the world fell away once more, and I began to speak.

"I'll be with you in a minute. Go on, Charley. I want to, just for a minute. I never had the chance to say good-bye. Forgive me, dear. I can't cry. I don't know what it is, but I can't cry. I don't understand it. Why did you ever do that? Help me, Willy, I can't cry. It seems to me that you're just on another trip. I keep expecting you. Willy, dear, I can't cry. Why did you do it? I search and search and I search, and I can't understand it, Willy.

I made the last payment on the house today.

Today, dear."

A tear involuntarily fell from my eye, followed by many more.

"And there'll be nobody home.
We're free and clear.
We're free. We're free... we're free."

I took a moment to step out of my character, and I watched each face as their expressions turned from puzzlement (no doubt from the state of my appearance), to awe. The angel's face suddenly brightened, and he shot me a smile that made the breath leave my lungs as if I had been punched in the gut.

"Ms. Swan, are you aware that you just gave us a perfect audition?" the Greek god asked me.

"No.." I murmured, feeling the blush creep upon my face.

He just shot me another winning smile and the three leaned into one another, seemingly in a caucus about my monologue. I was too stunned to listen to their whispers. I had just miraculously remembered my monologue, done well, and the perfect man spoke to me. I felt lighter than air. That is until an annoyed voice pulled me out my stupor.

"But she's hideous!" The fire head hissed at the others.

"She's not horrible looking, but I wonder why she looks like a drowned cat?" The attractive man on the left answered her.

"Listen, right now, we need talent, and she has it. Of course she's extremely ordinary, but that can be fixed."

Wait… did the god think I had talent? I ignored the urge to cry that came over me when he called me ordinary and tried to focus on the fact that he thought I had talent.

Suddenly, without my permission, I heard my voice shriek out, "Water!" What? Did I just yell the word water? What the hell. "Um… I mean, this girl…she spilt her water on me. I don't always look like this. I usually look somewhat decent at auditions. In fact my best friend took me shopping to buy this outfit. I told her that I hated to wear white and I knew that it wasn't a good idea and…"

Well that was definite word vomit. What had I just said? I don't think my brain even processed it. The trio was looking at me with incredulous scowls all over their faces, until the one in the jersey busted out laughing. Well that's it. I'll show myself out, climb into a hole, a sewer preferably, and die a slow and painful death. Laughed out of an audition. This day was so bad that they would record it in history books for people to read for years to come. I began my retreat to the door, and let my head drop so that they would not get the satisfaction of my tears.

"No, don't leave!" The jersey man called as I was starting the walk of shame. "I'm sorry, but that was hysterical. How you managed to do that kind of audition looking like you do is beyond me. Oh… don't cry! You were great! Edward, let's just have her sing right now."

Ok, so he was just laughing at my situation, not me. Deep breaths Bella. You can do this. I frantically wiped away the disloyal tears from my face and sniffled a little bit, hoping that would clear my head.

"People aren't singing until the callbacks Jasper," fire-head snarled.

"I know that Vicky, but I think we should cut her some slack. I mean some bitch tired to sabotage her, then I laughed at her, and now I am intrigued by her. What do you think Edward? You want to hear her?"

"Most definitely," the god named Edward sent me another heart-stopping smile.

"But we don't have a pianist!" Vicky, as Jasper had called her, was in an outrage at the events that were unfolding; and I felt a smug sense of satisfaction from seeing her so upset.

"I think I can manage Victoria," Edward brushed her off and approached me.

My breathing started to become erratic once again, and I started to feel faint from the lack of oxygen. As he came closer I noticed the most beautiful smirk on his face, and then he was right beside me.

He leaned in and almost put his delectable lips against my ear and whispered, "Don't be scared, you're doing great."

My whole body shuddered at those words, and I found my confidence once again. I handed him my sheet music. I wasn't really prepared to sing at the moment, but somehow, I knew if he were playing for me, I could do it. As the first chords began of my piece I could feel the emotion behind Edward's fingers, and it was as if an electric current was running from his playing to my mouth. I began to sing "Here Alone" from Little Women. Again, I felt the rush of tears overtake me halfway through the song. I was just thanking God that tears were appropriate for the character. The song went extremely well. There are few times in my life that I sang as well as I just had, and I made a mental note to start going to church more often to pay God back for all He had just given me. When I finished there was silence in the room. Any good feeling I was receiving from the song was obliterated in that silence. In the land of musical theatre, silence was never a good sound. Wordlessly, Edward stood up from the piano bench and walked back to the table he had occupied before. He and Jasper communicated silently with their eyes, and I saw Vicky stick out her bottom lip. (She reminded me a very beautiful, but threatening, two-year old, that didn't get her way.) Jasper and Edward returned their attention to me. I stood, frozen, not knowing what to expect. Nothing had gone the way I imagined it would today, why would it go my way now?

"Ms. Swan," Jasper started, causing me to jump a little at the break from the silence, "we enjoyed your audition immensely, but we will not need to see you at callbacks. You will be contacted within the week to let you know if you have a role in the show. Thank you for your audition."

Well, that's it. I sighed and walked out the door, not even chancing to look at Jasper, Edward, or Victoria because the few tears that I managed to hold back in the room were now turning into sobs.

"Let's have that coffee now." I choked to Rosalie who was waiting beyond the door.