Silence blanketed the room once everyone had settled into their assigned seats. Scripts rustled softly, and the faint hum of the air conditioner filled the void.
Anna sat with her script open on the table, her fingers gripping the edges as she reread her lines for what felt like the hundredth time. Her stomach churned with nerves. I can't mess this up. Not in front of them.
A few chairs down, Fiona flipped open a tiny pocket mirror. She puckered her lips, applying another coat of lipstick with exaggerated precision. Once satisfied that her reflection screamed irresistible, she snapped the mirror shut, gathered her belongings, and plastered on a dazzling smile.
I can't wait to see who this mysterious producer is, Fiona thought, her heart skipping with excitement. If he's as wealthy and powerful as they say, then he's exactly the kind of man I should charm.
