Writers 
Chapter Three
I spent most of the next morning pretending that tomorrow evening wasn't important. It was an impressive performance, considering I checked my phone every six minutes.
Mum called while I was eating breakfast.
“So you have a meeting today?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“I don't know yet.”
“How can you have a meeting and not know where?”
“Mum, Miriam knows.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
I smiled and reached for my glass of juice. “You sound like my manager.”
“Your manager doesn't know you like I do.”
“That is true.”
There was a short silence.
Then she said, “I'm proud of you.”
I stopped moving.
My mother wasn't usually the type to say things like that casually. She showed affection by asking whether I had eaten, reminding me to carry an umbrella and complaining whenever I stayed out too late.
“Thanks, Mum.”
“Don't let this acting thing enter your head.”
I laughed. “You ruined it.”
“I am serious.”
“I know.”
After we ended the call, I sat there for a while, staring at my breakfast. It was strange how quickly things could change. Not long ago, I had been begging people to give me a chance. Now people were telling me to be careful with the chances I got.
Miriam arrived just before noon.
She walked into my apartment, looked at the untouched pile of clothes on my sofa and immediately said, “We're going shopping.”
I looked up from my phone. “For what?”
“Your meeting.”
“It's tomorrow.”
“Exactly.”
“You're acting like I'm meeting the president.”
“I would prefer the president. At least we'd know what he wants.”
I laughed.
She dropped her bag onto the chair. “The production sent details.”
That got my attention.
She handed me her phone.
The meeting was at a hotel in Victoria Island. There would be the director, the producer, two people from the production company and the writer.
I read the names slowly.
Then I reached the last one.
Daniel Cole.
I knew that name.
Everyone in the industry knew it.
Daniel had directed two of the biggest films of the last few years. He was known for being difficult, demanding and very particular about his actors. I had watched one of his interviews once and spent twenty minutes afterwards wondering why anyone would voluntarily work with him.
“You're quiet,” Miriam said.
“I'm thinking.”
“That usually gets you into trouble.”
I handed her the phone. “Do you think I can actually get this?”
She looked at me for a moment.
“I think you should stop worrying about whether you deserve it and start preparing for the possibility that you might.”
That stayed with me.
We spent the afternoon going through the script they had sent. It wasn't long, but my character was complicated. She wasn't loud or dramatic. Most of what she felt was hidden, which somehow made the role harder.
By evening, I had read the pages so many times that I could almost hear the character speaking without looking at the words.
Then my phone rang.
It was an unknown number.
I nearly ignored it.
“Hello?”
There was a pause.
Then a man's voice said, “Hi, Dara. This is Daniel Cole.”
I sat up.
“Tomorrow's meeting isn't an audition,” he said. “There's something I want to discuss with you before you meet the others.”
I looked at Miriam.
“What is it?” I asked.
Another pause.
“It's about why I chose you.”
And then he hung up.
