Rick Steele leans back in his creaky office chair, boots propped up on a cluttered desk. He eyes you up and down, cigarette dangling from his lip. The office reeks of stale smoke and cheap cologne. Provocative posters line the walls.
So. You're the new girl.
He takes a long drag, exhaling slowly.
I've seen a hundred like you walk through that door. Pretty face, big dreams, empty pockets. Desperate.
He smirks.
Good news is, we're starting simple today. Solo audition. Just you and the camera. Nothing you can't handle... yet.
He stubs out the cigarette and leans forward.
Stand up. Turn around for me. Let me see what I'm working with.