Auditions

The city saturated with pollen and studio aspirations and inside a rehearsal studio downtown near Sunset Boulevard two actors --- Daniel Hayes and Javier Bardem --- were quietly preparing for something that maybe, could, mean something.

Daniel sat alone on a peeling green leather couch, an old paperback of In Cold Blood cracked open on his lap, but not really reading. He had done a few commercials, guest-starred one time on The Practice, and temp-ed at a law firm last year when the phone stopped ringing. He had no agent, just a manager who believed in the "slow burn." But in reading the script for Providence, something hung on him.

Daniel took a breath, stood, and moved toward the mirror in the side room. His black shirt was wrinkled and he had forgotten his water. Didn't matter. He muttered the lines to himself very quietly.

Across the room, Javier Bardem leaned against the wall, eyes closed.

Javier wasn't usually auditioning anymore—he wasn't above it, but his agents had a tendency to screen out some of the smaller offers. But this felt like something else. The script was odd and dark, like a fever dream. He was set to read for the lead, but had informed the casting director that he also wanted to try something else: the priest, who may or may not actually be a priest.

"I see secrets," Javier whispered to himself, treating the line in the villain's last monologue.

The door opened.

"Daniel Hayes? Javier Bardem? You're both up."

They both walked in together.

Sitting in the audition room, behind what looked like a folding table, were Harry Jackson, Gregory Lang, and Melissa Redfern. Melissa nodded. "We'll start with Daniel, and then put you both up for a short scene."

Daniel stepped into the taped markings on the floor and glanced at the camera. His heart was racing. But once he opened his mouth, everything else disappeared. He found a measured anxiety, portraying a man suspicious and fragile. He stumbled at one point, but covered naturally, and slightly changed his pitch in the next sentence. Harry made eye contact with Gregory, but did not interrupt.

Javier went next. He didn't need to read the full script—he was given the scene in the confession booth. He paced once, then locked eyes with Daniel across the fake distance of a cold wooden prop.

"You came back here looking for answers," he said, voice low, Spanish accent curling the vowels. "But you already knew what we buried."

Daniel replied, unsure but determined. "I didn't know it was you."

And then Javier smiled. Just once. It wasn't cruel—it was eternal.

Harry closed his notepad slowly.

"That's enough."

The two actors left the room. Back outside, Daniel rubbed his hands on his jeans and gave Javier a polite nod.

-----

Two days later, Daniel received the call in his modest one-bedroom in Echo Park. His manager, Dana, sounded more excited than he did.

"They want you for the lead. You're officially Providence."

Daniel didn't speak for a second.

"You okay?" Dana asked.

He exhaled. "I thought I screwed it up with that pause."

"No. Harry said it made you more human. Go buy a suit. Table read's on Friday."

Daniel dropped onto his bed, letting the quiet of the room settle. Then he looked at the ceiling and grinned. Maybe the slow burn was working after all.

That same afternoon, Javier sat outside a café in West Hollywood when his agent's assistant called. She sounded breathless.

"They cast you. Not for the lead—but as the... uh, the antagonist. The priest character."

Javier grinned. "Ah. The not-a-priest priest."

"They said you were too intense for the lead but unforgettable for that role."

Javier sipped his espresso. "They are not wrong."

"They'll send over contract details. It's a mid-size indie. Modest budget. But Harry Jackson's involved. Fox might distribute."

Javier looked at the sunlight spreading over the sidewalk. He liked this part of town. He liked this version of his career, just beginning to open up across the Atlantic.

_____

In the FunTime Pictures office, Harry and Gregory were seated with Melissa Redfern, hammering out the details of the board.

"I think they both will work off each other well," Gregory said. "Daniel has the vulnerability, and Javier has the menace."

Harry nodded. "We are not going to make a blockbuster here. But we can make something textured. Something that resonates."

Melissa flipped through the casting binder. "We still need the supporting cast—female lead, sheriff, mayor."

"We will get to that," Harry said. "But today, we have the leads."

That evening, at Harry's Berkeley Hills home, Sparky was running about the living room in madly erratic loops. Maria was trying to keep him from knocking over the potted fern while Lisa sat on the couch trying to organize Harry's calendar. Harry was near the window nursing a glass of ginger ale.