Date: Wed, 19 May 2004 00:10:02 -0400
From: Carmenica Diaz <carmenica_diaz@lycos.com>
Subject: Catherine Lawrence Part 1 by Carmenica Diaz (TG - chemical)

Catherine Lawrence Part 1/15 by Carmenica Diaz


Synopsis.

Christopher Redden is a struggling actor in London, trying over and over
again to win roles but he continually fails. Over and over again, he's told
he doesn't have the charisma or presence to be a leading man. As one of the
top agents bluntly puts it, he's far too pretty for a man. He auditions for
a new play and, of course, fails but then a friend of his suggests the
unthinkable - why not audition again but this time as a woman? The lead
role in Silken Memories is for a woman and they want an unknown actor, this
could be Christopher Reddens big chance, this could be the start of a
marvellous career for Catherine Lawrence!


Part 1

I think this was the 575th audition I had attended since I moved to London
three and a half years ago. At least it felt like it. To say I had been an
overwhelming failure in launching my acting career was being kind.

I had always wanted to be an actor. Of course, I had used the drama studies
as a way to escape the constant teasing from the boys at school, the jokes
and the terrible stunts they used to pull on me.

Thankfully, I was sent to a co-educational school and I thought the pranks
and the teasing would finish but I was wrong. In fact, it became worse.
Some of the girls used to egg the boys on and make cruel comments
themselves while offering me lipstick.

Like a lot of children, I used comedy and humour to try to make friends. I
used to mimic teachers, I could get their voices down perfectly but that
soon wore thin and my fellow pupils were soon back at throwing stuff at me,
calling me 'Marylyn' which was pretty stupid as I had dark hair but I think
you get the point. Every day there would be a move against me, such as
suddenly picking me and dropping me in the garbage bins. God, I hated that!
I was a loner right through to university and I tried out for many roles
there but was rejected for every one I attempted to win.

There was one role I thought I had, though. Jeremy was directing and he
encouraged me, asked me to work through the lines with him and then he
tried to kiss me. After that, I decided to pack university in, travel down
to London and become a real actor.

There was no doubt in my mine that I was a capable actor, in fact, in my
private moments, I daydreamed I had the potential to be a great
actor. Unfortunately, directors, producers, casting agencies and theatrical
agents all disagreed with me.

'You have excellent skills, my boy,' Martin Handley, the famous theatrical
director said one day when he was in an expansive mood after rejecting me
once again. 'Great skills, of that there is no doubt. Unfortunately,' he
said with a gesture at my appearance, 'you don't have it, you don't have a
presence'

I sighed, I had heard it many times before, perhaps not as kindly put as
Handley had said it but heard it I had, over and over again. I didn't have
it, the indefinable thing that automatically draws the eyes of the audience
to the actor. Some call it charisma; others just call the mysterious
ingredient it. Whatever it is, I didn't have it!

It appeared that no one could see me as leading man material and I also
didn't have enough other qualities to be an outstanding character actor. I
used to stare at my face and wondered why did I have to take after my
mother and not after my father? I had her eyes, cheekbones and hair as well
as her build. My father had wished I had taken more after him; he had the
height, build and determination - everything I appeared to lack.

'Christopher,' Martin soothed, 'you have an excellent voice, an
extraordinary ear for accents, why not radio plays? You'd be an enormous
success.'

I did one or two radio plays but there weren't enough to keep a person fed
and watered in an expensive city like London and, of course, there was the
question of working in real theatre. I'm not a snob or I don't think I am
but I wanted to work in real theatre, in the West End or, dare I dream,
Broadway?

So, I was a sucker and kept coming back for more. I wasn't ready to give up
on my dream just yet. The audition for Silken Memories was being held in a
small workshop theatre in south London, hidden away from the hustle and
bustle and I lined up with the other actors.

Sarah Wright wrote the play and that guaranteed an instant success but the
material was excellent as well and really tore at my heart. The strong lead
was the female, a woman who goes from rags to riches while enduring
emotional pain along the way but I was auditioning for the role of Tom, the
husband who deserts her and then faces his own retribution as she blossoms.

Lucy Richards waved at me, really just wriggled her fingers as she passed
and I nodded. I had given up trying to persuade her to represent me, she
was the best agent in London but she was very selective.

'Christopher, I'm sorry,' she said after I had bothered her for the tenth
time, 'I can't represent you, you don't have the qualities.' Lucy was a
hard woman and spoke frankly. 'Take a look in the mirror, you will never be
a leading man, you're too pretty.'

'Jude Law is pretty,' I said defensively but she just shook his head.

'Jude is masculine and he is a spectacularly handsome male. Chris, you are
pretty. Why don't you get Mark to teach you and go on the cabaret circuit?
I'll represent you if you want to go into his act but you are really too
pretty for a man.' She let the words sink in before she squeezed my arm and
said, 'I'm sorry,' before walking away.

At least she didn't mention my height. I had been rejected many times
because I wasn't tall enough. It's a cattle call and we all go through it
but I wonder if the directors even care about the feelings of the actors?
In my case, I knew they didn't.

The director of Silken Memories was Richard Hawkins, a director whose work
I admired but personally could not stand. He exhibited all of the bad
qualities of a Cambridge graduate and none of the good.

He was talking to Henri Profert, the producer when I sidled onto the stage
to read. 'The roles of Tom, David and the others will be easy to fill but I
am concerned we haven't got our Simone.'

'We will find her,' Henri soothed. 'It is a difficult role. Ah,' he said
with a smile, 'here's Sarah at last.' Sarah Wright stepped onto the stage
and sat on the vacant chair next to Richard.

'Simone has to be perfect,' was all she said before rifling through the
script. Sarah Wright was such a famous playwright; everyone knew she had
the power of veto on any actor selection.

I cleared my throat and Richard nodded as his assistant whispered in his
ear.  'Christopher Redden,' I announced. 'I'm reading the final scene
between Tom and Simone.' They nodded and I began. I was just getting to the
crucial part when Richard waved and said, 'Thank you, next.'

Sarah watched me as I slowly walked from the stage. A tall handsome man
bounded past me. 'Wade Thompson,' he announced and began to read the same
part I had just attempted to perform.

'Wait,' Richard called and I turned around. 'You,' he said pointing at
me. 'What's your name?'

'Christopher Redden,' I murmured, brushing my hair from my eyes.

'Can you read the Simone part so we can get an idea of how Wade would go,
get a real feel for the scene?'

I almost told him to get stuffed when Sarah said, 'You seem to understand
what lies behind the words.' Her voice was quiet and she smiled wryly.

'Ok,' I said and waited for Wade to begin.

It was a great part and I loved it.


Tom: I don't think you understand my difficulties, Simone.

Simone (sharply): Don't you Tom? I think I've had enough difficulties of my
own, I think I've had experience! Don't you? Don't you Tom?

Tom: Simone, don't...

Simone (anguished): Don't what Tom? Don't embarrass you, or is it you don't
want to remind you? Remind you of what you've done, done to me?

'Thank you,' Richard called. 'That was excellent, Wade. Are you still
represented by the formidable Lucy Richards?'

Wade nodded with a big grin and I walked slowly off the stage, feeling
sick.

'Mr Redden, wait.' I turned around hopefully but saw it was Sarah Wright
walking quickly across the stage. Richard was deep in conversation with
Henri and Wade was talking to Lucy.

'Yes?' I waited politely.

'I just wanted to tell you that you conveyed so much in those lines, you
seem to know the play?' She cocked her head and looked me up and down.

'It's brilliant,' I said simply. 'I think the play is your best and the
part of Simone is superb. A real challenge to any actor.'

'Thank you but that is also the problem for us. I'm afraid I'm insisting on
an unknown, I want Simone to really speak and not be subdued because of the
fame of the performer.'

'I understand completely. Good luck.' I began to turn away but her next
words held me.

'This play is important to me,' Sarah said. 'Really important and luck is
what we need, I think.' She laughed a little harshly. 'I think we have just
five weeks to find Simone. Otherwise they,' she said with a jerk of her
head back at Richard and Henri, 'will insist on Emma Thompson or
someone. I've nothing against Emma but she's not Simone.'

'No,' I agreed.

'But you were in just those few lines. Thank you, Mr Redden, you've given
me hope that Simone is out there somewhere, we just have to find her.'


I walked out and bumped into Wade and Lucy in the lane where they were
waiting for their taxi. 'Chris,' Lucy said with a smile. 'Thanks for
helping out in there, Wade got the part.'  He got the role on ten words?
With a sick feeling in my stomach, I realised he got it solely on the way
he looked. Granted, he was tall and handsome but I didn't think he could
act that well. To be fair, I hadn't seen much but it had been enough for
Hawkins to pick him.

'Congratulations, Wade,' I said woodenly, trying to push past.

'Thanks, old man,' he said, slapping me on the back and I half fell to the
ground.

Lucy helped me to my feet as Wade walked to the end of the lane to search
for the taxi. 'You were great,' Lucy said as she helped me up. 'How do you
get so much feeling, so much emotion in those few words?'

'I'm an actor,' I said stiffly.

She adjusted my coat. 'Have you thought about sprucing yourself up a bit,
getting a haircut or something?'

'I'm trying to get rid of my prettiness!'

'You still mad at that? I'm sorry but it's the truth. Sometimes I think
you'd make a better girl then half the female actors around.'

'Thanks a lot,' I said grumpily, walking off.

'You just look scruffy, Chris,' she called after me. 'Get a haircut and
stop with the beard thing! Three wispy hairs on your chin don't make a
beard!'

'Get stuffed!' I muttered walking towards the tube station.


I wandered the streets, my head reeling with the injustice of it all. It
was so unfair, so fucking unfair!

That's what I told Mark after another wine. We were in his flat and he had
listened patiently to me for over an hour. Mark was, I guess my best
friend, if not my only friend which is telling as we weren't that close. We
attended a method acting class together for a while until he proclaimed it
was boring crap, darling, and left.

I bumped into him one afternoon and we had a coffee. I found out that Mark
was a female impersonator in one of those posh shows that toured the West
End and other places. He had even been to Las Vegas and New York and was
represented by Lucy Richards so he must be making squillions!

'What about real acting?' I asked self-righteously and his eyes narrowed.

'Who said this isn't real? Let me tell you, my dear,' he said with a smile,
'the pay check is very real, very real indeed.' I could see that was the
truth by the opulence of his his flat.

'It's fucking unfair,' I moaned again.

'For God's sake, dear,' Mark said with rolling eyes, 'will you leave it
alone?' He poured himself another glass of champagne. 'It's not meant to
be.'

'Mark,' I said miserably, tipping the empty bottle into my glass for the
last remaining drops of wine. 'What am I going to do?'

'Give up the acting rubbish, dear, and join me,' he said sipping his
champagne again.

'You?' I was flustered. 'As a female imp...'

'Exactly.' He winked dramatically. 'You'd be positively gorgeous with those
eyes and cheekbones. You'd knock them dead.'

'Lucy told me to work with you but...'

'But nothing my boy.' He pulled me to my feet and to the mirror. 'Look at
your eyes, I'm so jealous.' He pulled my hair away from my face. 'You'd be
beautiful.'

Irritably, I pulled away. 'I'm tired of people saying I'm pretty.'

'You'd be a beautiful woman, Chrissie,' he said with a smile, calmly
sipping his champagne.

'Stop calling me Chrissie. Pity I'm not a woman,' I said as I sunk into the
sofa. 'I'd get the part of Simone if I was, I just know it.'

'So be a woman,' Mark said with an airy wave.

'What?' I looked up and I think we both thought the same thing at the exact
same time. 'You mean go to the audition as a woman? Do the Tootsie thing?'

'I think you'd look a little better than Dustin Hoffman, Chrissie,' Mark
said with a wink. 'I don't think he's got your legs.'

'Be a woman?'

'Why not? I do it two shows a night, five nights a week.'

'But...'

'But what? I could teach you a few things, help you. Anything,' he said
with a roll of his eyes, 'to stop you constantly whining about how unfair
everything is. God, I thought I was the drama queen!'

I thought about it, really thought about it and then dismissed it. 'I'd
look ridiculous.'

'I don't think so.'

'It'd be obvious that I was a man.'

'Oh for heavens sake! Why don't we see?' His eyes were twinkling and he
poured more champagne.

'You mean?'

'Why not, I have all the gear. It'll be fun. And it'll stop you
wallowing. Are you game?'

I thought for a moment and then shrugged. 'Ok, let's try it.'

Looking back, I could see we didn't put much effort into it or so I
thought. Mark made me up, crammed a wig on my head and I stared miserably
at the mirror.

'No,' Mark said slowly, lips pursed for a moment as he thought. 'It's not
there. I'm afraid I'm useless at doing some one else's face and I only do
make up for the stage. I know,' he said pointing at me, 'we need a
stylist!'

'Mark,' I said weakly, taking the blonde Marylyn Monroe wig off and
throwing it onto the dressing table, 'this is not going to work.'

'Hush! We're not giving up after one setback!'

"We?' When did it become we, I thought, when did I lose control?

'You know Belinda Morrison, don't you?'

'Belinda? Yes, of course I know of her, I met her once.' She'd been the
stylist to several big names and then she wanted to begin her own
business. They actors she had worked with for so long had promised to
follow her but, of course they didn't. Last I heard, she had a beauty
school at Notting Hill and was a little bitter about actors.

'She's a good friend of mine.' Mark picked the phone up, thumbed through
his big address book and punched in a number. Mark was a big man, over six
foot which gave his act an extra element of comedy as he was obviously a
man but performing so well as a woman. The exaggerated winks, pouts and
wriggles always brought peals of laughter from the audience.  'Belinda? How
are you darling, it's Mark?' He listened for a moment and then turned to
me. 'Go into the bathroom and get rid of that face,' he said with a smile
and I took the hint.  When I came back, he was waiting with his coat on, a
bag over his shoulder and a grin over his face. 'It's off to Notting
Hill. A horse, a horse a dildo for a horse,' he chanted, bustling out the
door. He paused at the doorway. 'Well, are you coming?'

'But Mark...'

'For goodness sake, have a big of dare in you, please! It's a bit of fun,
that's all.'


We bundled out of the taxi at Notting Hill and Mark led the way into the
building where Belinda's school was. It occurred to me he seemed to have
this arranged this all so quickly but that was typical of Mark. He had
spontaneously decided to get a tattoo after seeing a lead singer of a boy
band with one. Nothing wrong with that except he flew to New York to get it
from the same tattooist that the singer had used.

Mark and Belinda kissed and then Belinda stepped back, staring at me, eyes
running over me. 'It's Christopher, isn't it? I think we've met before?'
She was really examining me and I felt as if I was under some sort of
professional scrutiny.

Most women never remembered me but I remembered her. Belinda was tall and
thin, hair dark and cut short with at least three hoop ear rings in each
ear lobe.

'Yes, that's right.'

'So, you want to fool Richard Hawkins? And that little prick Henri
Profert?'

I looked at Mark who winked. 'I guess so,' I said weakly.

'You guess?' Belinda asked sharply.

'I'm sure, I want to win the audition.'

She nodded, all business like. 'Ok, this will take a while,' she said,
looking at us both. 'We have to be serious here to see if it'll work.'

'We have all night, o dark one,' Mark said with an exaggerated bow and a
smile.

Belinda rolled her eyes, muttered something about queens and focussed back
on me. 'Last chance Chris, are you committed to this or has our camp friend
persuaded you against your better nature?'

I thought back at all the rejections I had endured, the times I had been
dismissed without even a word, just a wave and those dreaded words, Thank
you. Next!

I wanted to do something different, my life was grey and horrible. The only
friend I had was Mark, I had no girlfriends, my parents were dead and I had
no other living relatives. With a blinding stab of reality, I knew I was
lonely and miserable, a failure.

'He hasn't persuaded me,' I said softly and Mark looked at me quietly with
a small smile and a nod. 'I want to do this.'

'Really? It won't be easy, you know,' she added warningly.

'Let's do it,' I said, more bravely than I felt.


Belinda led us in and I had a shower and then under her and Mark's
instructions I removed all my body hair. I was initially embarrassed by
Belinda's presence but she brusquely dismissed it. 'Forget it, Chris,' she
said, 'try to think like a girl,' Belinda said with a wink and Mark
giggled.

'God knows I do,' Mark said with an exaggerated pout.

Belinda disappeared to make some coffee so she said while Mark introduced
me to the gaff. "This keeps Mr Happy well and truly hidden,' he explained
as I blushingly put it on. I couldn't live without it,' he said
dramatically and I suppressed a giggle.

Then came the corset. It was excruciating but Belinda and Mark showed no
mercy. I could hardly breathe as I sat in the chair so Belinda could
shampoo, cut and style my hair. 'I'm using hair extensions so we can get
them out later if this doesn't work,' she muttered, working away.

Time merged into an endless void, I just flowed along, getting up when she
said, moving to a new position and just being a piece of plasticine for her
to mould. I was so numb I didn't blink an eye at the two large blobs of
skin coloured plastic she thrust into the bra cups of the corset. Blankly I
stared down as she arranged the breasts, my breasts! 'If this works, we'll
get the ones that glue.' She glanced at Mark. 'Didn't you have any
smaller?'

He shrugged. 'I'm a big boy, dear and now she's a big girl.' He winked at
but I continued to sit in a daze, waiting for what she was going to do
next.

 Mark drank champagne, he forced a glass on both Belinda and I and he
twirled around and around to music while Belinda patiently worked.

She worked on my hair, my eyebrows and my make up including
eyelashes. Finally, I slipped into the black dress Mark had magically
produced from his bag along with the pair of shoes that, also magically,
fit me. I had struggled to put pantyhose on but had avoided ladders and I
stood in the centre of the room as Belinda teased my hair out of the
rollers and fixed it. Clip on earrings, a necklace and perfume.

Mark stopped dancing around and stood stock still, staring as Belinda
stepped back.

I stood there nervously, tasting the lipstick on my lips, breathing in
shallow breaths because of the stupid corset and waited. They were both
open mouthed and staring and glumly, I knew I must look stupid.

'At least,' I said, blinking, 'I tried.' What now, I wondered, what do I do
now that this was a failure? I then realised just how much I had hoped this
would work.

'Did you see that?' Belinda asked Mark softly and he just nodded.

Belinda walked slowly around me, hand to her chin as she studied me. 'It
was a rush job, there's so much more to do but...shit!' It was said softly
and I turned to her, puzzled.

'I know,' Mark breathed. 'It's amazing. I mean, I always suspected but to
see it. That's why I planned this, got the shoes...' He suddenly looked at
me.

'What are you two going on about?'

'Can you try a girls voice?' Belinda asked.

I did have a good ear for accents and I closed my eyes as I
remembered. After clearing my throat, eyes still closed, I softened my
voice and made it higher, speaking from the throat and not the chest. 'How
does this sound?' I asked and then opened my eyes. They were staring
again. 'Do I sound acceptable?' I asked shyly.

Belinda cleared her throat. 'Yes,' she said strangely, glancing at Mark,
'perfectly acceptable.'

I saw the looks and stood with my hands on my hips. 'Will you two tell me
what is going on, please?' Their eyes bulged and then Mark smirked while
Belinda stifled a giggle.

'Oh,' Mark screamed, 'she's a natural.'

Belinda and Mark each took one of my arms and steered me to the mirror
where I could see. 'Oh my god!' I exclaimed and the gorgeous woman in the
mirror look shocked as well. She was beautiful. Dark hair to the shoulders,
big wide violet eyes that beguiled, high elegant cheekbones and full red
lips. I couldn't help myself, I smiled and the woman in the mirror smiled
back, eyes twinkling.

I stepped back and inspected myself, the figure was curvy, compliments of
the padding, the largish fake breasts and the corset.

'That's me,' I said in wonder, turning and inspecting myself. 'Is it really
me?' I kept the female voice as it seemed appropriate somehow.

'Yes,' Belinda said gruffly. 'It's you.' She shook her head. 'I don't
believe it, but it's you.'

'Could I get away with it?' We all knew what I meant. Could I get away with
appearing at the audition, could I persuade them I was a woman? Suddenly,
it all seemed possible to me.

Mark shook his head. 'No,' he said quietly.

'What?'

'No, dear,' he said, resting his hand on my shoulder. 'It takes more than
dress ups.'

'Oh,' I said, head bowed, blinking.

'Stop that,' Belinda said grumpily.

'What?'

'You know dam well. The pouting, sad face thing.'

'Now, Belinda,' Mark said gently. 'She's a natural, that's all. She doesn't
know.'

'You've never done this before?' Belinda asked me suspiciously and I shook
my head.

'No, never.'

'Never?' She looked at Mark.

'Never, dear, I've tried to talk her into it many times but she wouldn't
listen. You can see she's a natural.'

Belinda studied me. 'She could pass, it would take a little work but she
could. How long do we have?'

'I think Chris said Sarah believed she had five weeks to find some one?'
Mark looked at me and I nodded, still staring at myself in the mirror.

'Five weeks, that will have to do then.'

'If that,' Mark said, 'time is getting away'.

'They'll find someone by then,' I said miserably.

'Not if Lucy Richards calls them and tells them she has an outstanding
person who is out of the country and will be back in four weeks.' Mark said
it with glee and I looked at him, shocked.

'Would Lucy do that?'

Mark winked. 'Leave it to me.'

'Do you want to do it, Chris?' Belinda asked quietly. 'Give everything up
for four weeks?'

'Give what up?' Mark said cattily as he sipped champagne. 'Eating junk
food, reading scripts and getting rejected at auditions?'

'I don't know,' I said quietly.

Mark suddenly became serious and squatted down so he could look me directly
in the eyes. 'Look, Chris,' he said with real affection, 'look in the
mirror, that's you. You have a chance here to do everything you've ever
wanted, to walk a West End stage, to read the reviews to experience it
all. It's what you wanted, isn't it?'

"Yes,' I whispered and the woman in the mirror also whispered yes.

'You only have to do it once, just once and then you can let the world, all
those arseholes know that you not only acted brilliantly as Simone you
acted as a woman acting Simone.'

My eyes bulged at that and the woman in the mirror looked pretty
excited. 'You think?'

'Chris,' Mark said softly, turning my face away from the mirror. 'I know
what I am. I dress up in frocks and mime Dancing Queen and I love it. But
it's obvious I'm not a woman, that's my whole act but you, can't you see
how stunning you are? I mean, dear Kylie Minogue would be jealous!
Seriously, you have a god given talent to act and now,' he said turning my
face to the mirror, 'you also have it!'

'What do you think, Belinda?' I asked slowly. 'Tell me the truth.'

She ran her fingers through her hair. 'The scary thing, Chris, is that with
a little bit of work and practise, you'd be much better. I know you find
that hard to believe but fingernails, piercing, plucked eyebrows, waxing
and electrolysis, you'd be bloody gorgeous.'

'But,' I said shakily, 'would I be real?'

'You wouldn't be a drag queen, Chrissie,' Mark said quietly, 'you'd be a
woman. It could be your greatest performance.'

'Ok,' I said softly.

'What?' Belinda and Mark asked in unison.

'I'll do it. It could be fun,' I said with a weak smile as Belinda kissed
my cheek.

'Now,' Belinda said, all business. 'You have to stay here, we will work
every day.'

'Stay here?'

'I live upstairs and there's a spare bedroom. You'll live as a woman for
the entire time so you're used to it. We'll need money for clothes and
things.'

I hung my head. 'I'm broke.'

'I'll cover you,' Mark said. 'It's just a loan, my dear.'

'You'd do that?'

'We're friends aren't we? Of course I'll do it, Chrissie dear. I can say
I'm a friend of,' he paused. 'What name are you going to use, I'll have to
tell Lucy a name?'

'I don't know.'

'I could come up with one.'

'I don't think Marylyn Mansfield is quite what we're looking for,' Belinda
said dryly.

'Let me think about it,' I said quietly staring at my reflection. I had
quite a lot to think about.

End of Catherine Lawrence Part 1 of 15 parts by Carmenica Diaz
http://www.carmenicadiaz.tripod.com