It was already half past nine when the smell of nuked sausage biscuits ran down the hall to greet Kemp. In a few hours, he would be a household name. He planned to stretch his fifteen minutes into a fruitful career. His status would proceed him and he’d be privy to the classified life of the reclusive Hollywood superstar. All he had to do was show up and seal his place amongst the greats.
As Kemp signaled his way onto the 101, he thought about his high school reunion and how everyone would envy him. He filled his anxious mind with scenarios that matched moments memorized from television. His family would be so proud of him, the fourth of seven children and the only one not practicing medicine. There was no way his nerves would get the best of him. That was his old modus operandi. He’d seen it all and he knew exactly what to do this time.
His Chevy Nova pulled up to the security gate 25 minutes early. He had plenty of time to go over his lines and get into character. He even learned to make himself cry by thinking of the time his favorite puppy leapt into an active volcano on his senior trip to Costa Rica. “Tears win awards,” he thought to himself. He was a lock.
He freely waltzed into the clammy office of the casting director. It was as if he’d already made it. He was dropping in as a formality, light on his feet.
“Kemp. Kemp comma Jay, correct?”
“That’s me. Can you gimmie just a sec?” Kemp politely asked.
The casting director sighed heavily. Shame charade, different cow.
“Please hurry. Your scene partner will be here shortly. By the way, refer to me as Mr….”
An attractive, leggy blond whisked into the room.
“Friedman. Mr. Friedman. This is your scene partner, Jenni. Take it from the top.”
This was it. He practiced day and night for three weeks in the comfort of his uncle’s basement. He launched into the scene immediately. “I’m nailing this,” Kemp repeated in his brain as his body felt every ounce of dialogue spilling from his lips. Suddenly, he began to cry. He wasn’t thinking of the puppy dog. Was this the sharp pressure of living the dream?
“Okay Jenni, now flip him over and stick your other fist in his ass. Pinch his dick a little. Let him know who’s boss. And Kemp…try not to wince so much before we solder your balls to your butt cheeks.”
