Christa set a Writing Challenge over at Awful Souls. Here’s my humble entry.
He slid a photograph over the table, careful to avoid the worst of
the coffee stains. It was old, discoloured with the years but still striking is a simple, beautiful way.
“Casting couch?” I asked, pointing at the large sofa on which the woman sat. She was half undressed and relaxed, her hair catching the light from the expanse of windows behind.
– cut –
“That was taken in 1954. She was 24. At least, that’s what she said. She also told us that her name was Lola Lang.”
I figured both pieces of information were lies, but dutifully noted them down. Sometimes lies are easier to trace than the truth.
“Why do you want her found, Mr….”
He cut in, serious grey eyes focusing my attention. “Nothing sordid, I promise you. I represent a large production studio. We will pay well, very well, if you find her.”
I urged him to continue, sipping my still too-hot coffee as he talked.
“We’re making a movie and need someone in their 70s to take the leading role. It’s going to be huge. Whoever gets that role will make millions. We want her to play it.”
“Why her?” I replied, my interest captured. I’d never been hired by Hollywood before.
“We need someone real, someone who’s not had surgery, injections of any of that crap. We need someone who looks their age. In Hollywood, that’s impossible to find. We’ve looked at anyone who’s auditioned for this studio since it opened, aging them using a computer simulation to see what they look like now.”
He passed over a CD in a clear wallet.
“On that is what we think she looks like now. We need her. She’s perfect.”