The bathroom was shockingly empty when he walked in, the fluorecent lighting almost glaringly bright compared to the hall outside. His eyes took a moment to adjust before glancing over his surrounding, taking in the open stalls, slightly smudged mirrors, not quite perfectly clean floor. It was, overall, a very ordinary bathroom.
But this was not an ordinary day. The tattoo of his heart trying to rise into his throat was proof enough. There was that trembling energy coursing his veins, the one he always got before a performance. He was nervous, yes, but not in a way that would endanger his performance as long as he was prepared. Was he ready, though?
Bri stood in front of one of the sinks, leaning on the white porcelain, the cold slowly permeating his long sleeved shirt. He turned on the faucet, wet his hands, spread the water across the back of his neck and over his cheeks, under his eyes, refreshing himself. Trying to breathe a bit more life into his lightly freckled face. He smiled wanly at himself, wondering how much of a mess Angela-- his only older sibling-- would be in this situation. No doubt she'd sit outside and nag every person about how she was so nervous, she was going to throw up.He gave a half laugh, then his face turned serious and he took a deep breath. Time to roll the dice.
He walked out of the bathroom and followed a tall girl to the waiting area, sitting in one of the chairs so that one leg was perfectly straight before him. Bri tented his fingers over the small folder he'd brought with him, eyes half-closing as he quietly watched the other talent, awaiting his turn.
After a few minutes-- or maybe half an hour-- he didn't always keenly feel the passage of time when his mind was occupied-- a polite voice called his name. He stood, nodded, and headed through to the judges just as a tiny Asian girl came out.
The moment he stepped through the doors, he was in full-out audition mode, hint of a smile on his face, posture confident but not arrogant. "Hello, I'm Aubrey Dyer, a stage actor. Here is my-- ah-- portfolio." How odd to say that word. Usually his auditions were nothing big, just doing a standard read or two, maybe a monologue.
Bri set his folder on the table, his smile widening as his pulse rose. He knew the contents by heart, but still had the urge to go through it with them. There was a DVD of various snippet-performances-- showing him in a musical, a comedy, a musical comedy, various dramatic pieces, and so on. Pictures of him in different costumes, letters from past directors, and so on.
After giving them a moment to see what they had, he continued. "I will perform a monologue for you-- a short piece from--" he gave a grimaced-grin as he spoke the name-- "Shakespeare's Macbeth. If I may?" Bri took a chair and pulled it to the center of the room, sat down, took a breath, and assumed the neutral position.
Half a second later, he was acting. His head came up and his face grew somber. "She should have died hereafter; there would have been time for such a word." He let out his breath and shook his head slowly, heavily. "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time; and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death!" His fist rose, shook, opened, fell as he spoke the next lines, then he stood and paced back and forth while he told of the poor player that all lives were. He turned to face the judges, eyebrows coming down further over his darkening gaze. "It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying--" he hands came up sharply--" nothing!"-- and fell to his side, hanging his head as well.
He pulled out of it and swallowed as he looked out at the judges. "Thank you." Bri waited a moment for the judges to indicate if they wanted anything more, then turned and left, the fire of the recital burning through his chest so that he hardly noticed the auditioner he passed. Well, there it is.
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