A tale of two Garths. Chapter 36. “Jack, I’m pregnant with your child!”


“You have an audition for the Young and The Restless,” my manager told me through the phone.

“Really?” On No!

“Yes. You have to be at CBS at 1:00,” she told me and then gave me all the details. I know I should have been happy. I know I should have been jumping for joy. I mean this was The Young and The Restless for God’s sake! This was a show that had been on for many, many years. My great aunt on my mother’s side would have shit a brick if she found out I had gotten on a soap opera. She loved that crap! But I just sat there after I hung up the phone shaking my head and mumbling to myself.

“Not a soap opera. Anything but a soap opera.” The dramatic pauses, the dark lighting, the cheesy storylines. I hated soap operas. I couldn’t even bring myself to watch one let alone spend what may be a good portion of my young life acting in one.

***

“Jack, I’m pregnant with your child!”

“Impossible! I’m impotent.”

“Oh Jack, don’t say that. You’re not impotent. You can totally fly a kite.”

“No, Stacy’s character, what I mean is, there is no way I could be the father of your child!”

Dramatic pause while we stare at each other for an uncomfortably long time with dramatic music playing in the background.

***

I couldn’t bear this dilemma all on my own, so I confided in my friend Cherokee at work while we were in the kitchen waiting for our food to come up.

“I’m auditioning for Young and the Restless tomorrow,” I said, trying to sound excited.

“Oh Stacy, I’m so sorry,” she said to be with her beautiful brown caring eyes. “That’s like your worst nightmare come true.”

“I know, but I have to go. And if I get it, you know I have to take it,” I told her.

“Well, look at it this way, you won’t have to do this shit anymore,” she said with a sweeping gesture towards the kitchen. Then she put her plates of food on a giant tray, lifted it up with her right arm and hustled her skinny ass back out to her station. *Sigh* She’s got a point, I thought to myself as I loaded up my own tray of food and followed her out.

The next day I was ready. I had changed my attitude and told myself that I indeed wanted the job on The Young and The Restless. I was going to do everything in my power to get it. I spent extra time on my makeup, giving it the right balance between “subtle” and “soap.” I put just a touch of curl in my usually straight hair. I decided to wear my favorite lavender skirt with a grey Calvin Klein tank and some black boots. I stood back in the full-length mirror in the bedroom I shared with Garth and felt pretty damn confident. I looked pretty. I didn’t have the money to buy the clothes I would have liked to wear, but I did the best with what I had and was happy with the results. I’m going to get this job, I’m going to get this job, I’m going to get this job, I repeated over and over in my head as I grabbed my purse and went to grab my keys. Where are my keys? Seriously, where the fuck are my keys? I looked all around the apartment and all I could find were the keys to Garth’s piece of crap B-12 Volvo. Don’t get me wrong; I loved that piece of crap car. In fact, I downright enjoyed driving that car when given the option. But Garth had developed a very nasty habit of taking my car when he went to work, and today was not the day for a piece of crap car. Garth’s Volvo was such a piece that it actually shuddered and shook if you drove it on the freeway. Not to mention the passenger seat wasn’t exactly bolted into the car. I swear it was held together by duct tape, bubble gum, and Guardian Angels.

I kept repeating my “I’m going to get this job,” mantra in my head as I got in the Volvo and started off towards the CBS studios. With the Volvo, taking the freeway was out of the question. So I was going to have to take the windy Laurel Canyon down to Sunset and make my way to CBS from there. Not the shortest drive, but usually a nice one. I never minded this drive, winding up through the tree filled canyon looking at all the million dollar homes. Then once you hit Mulholland Drive your car winds down the mountain like a mini rollercoaster.

But today there would be no rollercoaster ride. It looked like I wasn’t the only one who got stuck with the piece of shit car, because Laurel was bumper to bumper. Oh my God, I can’t be late to this. MOVE people! But once you’re on Laurel there is really no way of getting off. You’re kind of stuck. There I was, inching my way up over the hill in 98-degree heat. This wouldn’t have been so bad if the Volvo had had air conditioning or a stereo. Did I forget to mention that? I could feel the sweat starting to accumulate on my back as I sat up against the leather seats. I’m not even certain it was leather. Let’s call it pleather. I could feel my legs sticking together from the hot air coming through the windows. If we could have moved just a little faster I might have been able to use the breeze to my advantage but luck was not going to go my way that day. I glanced in the rear view mirror as I wiped the sweat off my face, trying my best not to ruin the carefully applied eye makeup I had taken so long to put on. I hate him right now, I thought to myself as I pictured Garth in my cool car rocking out to my perfectly good stereo.

By the time I arrived at CBS I was soaked. Literally soaked. And I’m not exaggerating. The back of my entire body was one big, giant ball of Stacy sweat. I was so wet that you could now see my underwear through my wet lavender skirt. The back of my grey tank was drenched and the front had sweat lines under my breasts. I was a total mess. I was about to audition for CBS and I looked like I had just run a marathon in the most inappropriate outfit ever. I entered the building and gave the security guard my name.

“Where is your bathroom?” I asked him as I checked the time. I had roughly 10 minutes to pull myself together. After he told me where it was I ran down the halls of CBS like a bat out of hell praying the bathroom had air dryers in it. Hey isn’t that Candice Bergen? Focus Stacy! Once inside the bathroom I was so happy to see the air dryers I wanted to make out with them. Thank you God! I turned one on and immediately pressed my chest up against it in an effort to dry off the boob sweat. I figured they would hopefully only be talking to the front of me and the back of me could wait a little. I was stupid enough to take a look in one of the mirrors. “Oh Stacy, you look a mess.” The curl in my hair was gone. My eye make up was smeared. At this point I had nothing to lose. So I quickly touched up my eye make up, flipped my head upside down under the dryer to give my hair a boost, and pulled up my skirt long enough to dry out my privates.  Damn it! I’m here. I’m prepared. Kind of. And I’m STILL going to get this job!

I walked into the waiting room where all my competition was sitting and looked at all their beautiful dry clothes. Bitches. I held my head high as I checked in and sat my wet ass down to wait my turn. One by one we were called in to audition and one by one we all filed back out into our normal lives.

I did my best under the circumstances is all I can say. But again, I didn’t get the part. They turned me and all the other girls down for some non-sweaty, cute actress named Eva Longoria, whose character ended up being sent to an insane asylum. I would have been great in that part. As far as insane was going, I was already half way there.

To be continued…

Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Send questions, comments, brownie recipes or random brainfarts to: mrsdiagnosed@yahoo.com

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