"You're lucky to even be considered for this role," Paige said over the phone.
"Of course," I replied with exaggerated sadness. "Why would they consider this poor nobody?"
"Don't take it the wrong way," Paige quickly explained. "I'm not doubting you. It's just that the number of superstars they considered, and who turned it down, is too many to count."
"It says a lot about the quality of the film that so many superstars passed on it," I joked.
"True," Paige agreed.
It was strange to see how confident she was over the phone as compared to in person.
"By the way, who were they considering?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
"The director's first choice was John Travolta. They worked together on Grease."
I paused, thinking about that for a moment. "Isn't he… too old for the role?"
"He is," she agreed. "He's, like, 25. He also didn't like the lack of clothing part, so he turned it down. And get this, he was the youngest actor they considered. They also looked at Sylvester Stallone, John Belushi, Mark Hamill, and Christopher Reeve. All of them are in their late twenties or early thirties. The director thinks age is just a number."
Grease had been the biggest sensation last year. Everyone had seen it, and it shattered every record imaginable for a musical. The director of such a hit would have free rein to cast whoever he wanted. After all, the biggest criticism of Grease was that the actors were too old for the roles they played. Yet, when the film was a hit, no one cared about silly things like age.
Paige wasn't wrong—I was lucky to even be considered.
"Anyway," Paige cut in, snapping me out of my thoughts, "I called to tell you that your audition is tomorrow at 9 AM. You're prepared, right?"
"I am," I replied confidently.
"Good. Just so you know, you won't be the only one auditioning. Over the last few months, we've seen nearly 2,000 guys and finally shortlisted 20. Not all of them will be there at the same time, but some will."
"Whoa," I said, amazed. "I really am lucky to make the shortlist without even meeting the director."
"They want your looks more than anything else," Paige confirmed, hesitating for a moment.
"Listen, Noah, don't tell anyone I told you this, but the director is gay. So if you can impress him in… other ways, you might just guarantee yourself the role."
Was she saying what I thought she was saying? I'd heard rumors about Hollywood running on tit-for-tat favors, but for it to be offered to me so blatantly was surreal.
"If you want, I can find out where you could 'accidentally' run into him and charm him," Paige continued, as if she hadn't just dropped a bombshell.
"No thanks," I said firmly, cutting her off before she could elaborate. "If I get it, great. If I don't, I don't. I'm not that desperate."
Paige was silent for a moment before saying, "I'm sorry. I just thought…"
"Don't worry about it," I assured her. "I know what you meant."
I didn't, and honestly, I lost some respect for Paige after that conversation. Still, I knew one thing for sure: I couldn't tell her that to her face. She was too useful at the moment. Until I got a clear acceptance or rejection for the role, I couldn't afford to set her aside. In fact, it might even be better to foster a closer relationship with her…
"Are you free tomorrow night?" I asked before I could change my mind. "It's Saturday, so I was thinking we could go out somewhere. I know a great restaurant near your office."
"I'd love to!" I could practically hear the grin on her face through the phone.
"It's a date, then. See you tomorrow." With that, I hung up.
The more I thought about working in showbiz, the more I realized how messed up the industry was.
"Who was that?" a female voice called out curiously. "Was that work or a date? Because it sounded like both."
"Go do your homework, Daisy," I said to my little sister in a bored tone before walking away.
It was lucky for me that Dad wasn't home, or the call would've been harder to explain. Our house wasn't big, and whenever someone was on the phone, everyone could hear. Zach and Daisy knew about my modeling gigs, so it didn't matter if they overheard me talking. Still, they didn't know I was auditioning for a movie, and if I got rejected, as I expected, they'd never have to find out.
(Break)
When I arrived at Vic Ramos's office the next day, I wasn't the only one there. Unlike last time, four guys around my age were sitting on the couch in the waiting area. Ignoring them, I walked straight over to Paige with a big grin.
"Hey, Paige. How you doin'?" I said, channeling my inner Joey Tribbiani.
She blushed as soon as she noticed me. "Oh, hi, Noah. You're right on time. The auditions are about to start, and—" She lowered her voice. "Even though it's on a first-come basis, I booked the first slot for you."
I beamed at her. "You're the best, Paige. I'm really looking forward to our date tonight. Can't wait to feed you with my hands."
Her eyes instantly dropped to my hands, which I'd conveniently placed in front of her.
"I'd love to eat your hands," she said in a dreamy haze before catching herself. "I mean, I'm looking forward to that too."
I took her hand in mine and placed a chaste kiss on the back of it. She quickly pulled her hand away, glancing around nervously to see if anyone had noticed.
She turned back to me with a mild glare. "Just go inside already and give your audition," she said, pointing toward the audition room. This time it was different from one where I had met Vic.
"As you say, milady," I said with a playful bow before walking toward the audition room. On the way, I caught the envious, and in some cases, downright hostile looks from the other guys. I ignored them and focused on the task ahead.
I knocked twice on the door.
"Come in."
"Hello!" I beamed as I stepped inside, greeted by five people, four men and one woman, seated behind a table with a camera setup. It was intimidating for a newbie like me, but I faked confidence like a pro. "I'm Noah Hunter, here to audition for the role of Richard Lestrange."
"Hey, Noah," Vic greeted me with a smile before gesturing to the others. "Why don't you introduce yourself before we begin?"
"Sure," I said, standing tall. "I'm 18 and in my final year of high school. I'm a national-level swimmer aiming to compete in the Moscow Olympics next year. I've been accepted to Harvard and will start there in the fall. I'm new to acting, but I've been taking classes, and I'm confident I can do justice to this role."
"How so?" asked one of the men, who looked to be in his early thirties. "Why do you think you're better than all the other guys out there?"
"Because I just am?" I joked. When no one laughed, I quickly backtracked. "I mean, I can swim better than anyone in this building. That saves you weeks of training compared to the other guys. And even though I'm technically still in high school, I've already cleared all my classes with top grades. All I do now is train and compete, so I won't have to worry about academics during filming."
Seeing the impressed look on the man's face, I pressed on. "I'm in better shape than anyone out there. You won't need to force me to hit the gym because I'm already there every day. Most importantly, I feel a connection with Richard. I wasn't abandoned on a beach, but my current girlfriend is my neighbor. We grew up together, so I know exactly what it's like when friendship turns into attraction and then love."
I mixed a few lies with the truth to make it sound convincing. Most of my story could be verified, except for the part about Lola being my girlfriend.
"And your girlfriend won't mind you doing this film?" asked another man, a heavyset guy in his forties.
"Not at all," I said confidently. "She's very supportive of my career."
The older man turned to the younger one. "Why the hell weren't girls like that around in my time, Randal?"
Everyone laughed at his quip.
"Jokes aside," said the younger man, now revealed to be Randal, "let's move on to your screen test. Are you ready?"
"Yes, I am," I nodded.
Randal nodded before saying, "You mentioned you're in great shape. Care to show us?"
I didn't have a problem taking my shirt off, but the eager glint in Randal's eyes made me a little uneasy. Still, I did as asked. I'd worn a loose-fitting short-sleeved shirt, so my biceps were visible, but not the rest of my torso. I quickly unbuttoned my shirt and placed it on a stool beside the camera.
In a way, it was better to show them my strengths beyond acting. Despite Michelle's reassurances, I knew my acting skills weren't the best. While I'm not narcissistic, I've heard enough comments about my physique during swim meets to know it's one of my assets. It would've been a waste not to showcase it.
"What about pants?" I joked.
"Keep them on," the older man grumbled before Randal could chime in.
"Okay," I said. "Just give me some basic directions, like where to stand, where to look, and I'll handle the rest."
Randal pointed to the middle of the room. "Stand there, and you can look at that yellow poster behind the camera when you deliver your lines."
I shrugged and took my spot, focusing on the poster. It was from an old movie I hadn't seen in either of my lives, so I didn't think much of it. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, bouncing lightly on my toes to loosen up, just as Michelle had taught me. I took a few deep breaths, exhaling sharply to clear my lungs, before opening my eyes.
"I'm ready," I said with a smile. I noticed the fourth man had moved behind the camera, while the only woman in the room was holding what I assumed was the script.
"Hanna will read lines with you. Go," Randal instructed.
I nodded, shifting into focus.
(Break)
The Blue Lagoon had been a long-term passion project for Randal Kleiser, one he'd been trying to bring to life for years. Most studios had backed out, fearing the film's graphic content would draw negative public perception. There had already been two versions of the story—one silent and one with sound, but neither had been a faithful adaptation of the book, largely due to the restrictions of the Hays Code, which prohibited any on-screen sexuality at the time.
But times had changed, and a film true to the source material was now possible. Randal pitched the idea to every studio, but only Columbia Pictures showed any real interest. The project was tentatively greenlit, with the condition that Randal secure a top star for the lead role.
The film spent a year in development hell as one A-lister after another turned it down. Randal pleaded his case, arguing that casting unknowns was the only way forward. After much back-and-forth, the studio finally relented—but not without a few caveats.
Someone from the studio team had suggested casting minor actors and creating hype around the film's graphic scenes for publicity. Randal was vehemently opposed to the idea, but his hands were tied. He knew it was a sick ploy by the executives, middle-aged, desperate men who saw the project as an opportunity to indulge their own twisted interests. To get the film made, Randal reluctantly made some vague promises about casting a younger girl, as per the studio's demands. But in the end, he was determined to cast the actors who were best for the roles, regardless of age or studio pressure.
That's how he found himself here, auditioning boys for the male lead after shortlisting three girls for the female role.
Randal was immediately struck by the young man who walked in for the first audition of the day. Noah Hunter carried himself with a quiet confidence, as if he owned the room, but without coming across as overbearing. When Noah began talking about his life, Randal instantly felt that there was a superstar in the making standing before him.
Despite popular belief, superstars aren't made; they're born. They possess a natural aura that compels people to listen, to watch, to follow. Not all superstars become actors; some become politicians, doctors, lawyers, or even teachers. But they all share that indefinable quality that sets them apart. Randal knew this well; he'd directed John Travolta in Grease, and Noah had that same magnetic presence.
The question now was whether Noah could act.
When Noah took off his shirt, Randal had half a mind to finalize him on the spot. Noah's body looked like it had been carved from marble, every muscle defined but not overly bulky, his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, giving him the physique of a Greek god. On the surface, Noah was exactly what Randal needed for the role. There was no doubt about it.
Unfortunately, the final decision wasn't his alone. Samuel Rivers, the executive Columbia had appointed to oversee casting, had an equal say. Randal would make his preference clear, but he knew the battle wasn't over yet.
Randal barely paid attention to Noah's delivery of the lines. He was too distracted by the young man's striking appearance, his tall frame, perfectly chiseled body, long golden-blonde hair that fell to his shoulders, and piercing ocean-blue eyes. The only saving grace was that the audition was being recorded, so Randal could review Noah's performance later.
As soon as Noah finished, he walked over, still shirtless, and shook Randal's hand first. "Thank you for giving me the chance to audition," he said with genuine gratitude.
Randal could only smile. "You were very good. It was a pleasure seeing you."
Noah then shook hands with everyone in the room, including the camera operator and Samuel's assistant, Hannah, who had been reading lines with him. Randal didn't miss the way Hannah blushed when her hand met Noah's.
Even if Noah didn't get this role, Randal had a feeling the young man was destined for greatness.
"So, what do you think, Randal?" Samuel asked as soon as Noah had left the room.
"I want him," Randal said with urgency. "He's one of my finalists."
"Are you that sure about him?" Samuel looked puzzled. "He's certainly good-looking, and his demeanor was impressive, but his acting wasn't the best. Why don't we see the others before deciding?"
Randal shrugged outwardly, but his mind was already made up.
As the day went on, his prediction proved true. Of the 20 actors he auditioned, only two others stood out, and neither could compare to Noah Hunter, at least in terms of looks. There was a kid named Sean Penn, who was arguably the best actor of the bunch, but his appearance was average at best, and he'd need significant physical training to fit the role.
The other standout was Christopher Atkins. He had charisma and good looks, but like Noah, he was a newcomer with no prior experience, and his acting was even worse.
For the studio's sake, Randal shortlisted all three, but he knew the real competition was between Noah and Chris. Sean was added as a backup, just in case the other two failed the chemistry test with the final actress. After all, in a film like this, looks mattered more than acting chops.
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