Kylie held her gaze for a beat longer than friendly. “Thanks, Jenna. That means a lot. Coming from you. ”
Kylie smiled. A real one this time.
“Hey, Kylie!” called Marcus from the couch. “We were just talking about your audition for Edge of Night . Jenna said you nailed the monologue.”
Here’s a piece:
The dressing room mirror reflected Kylie’s practiced smile, but her eyes were scanning the group huddled near the craft services table. She couldn’t hear the words—just the rhythm of hushed voices, the furtive glances, the way Jenna’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a laugh.
She turned back to the mirror, watching the group dissolve back into its soft, venomous buzz. Behind her back, the whispers would continue. But Kylie had learned something over the years: what they said didn’t matter half as much as what she did next.
Tonight, she’d memorize every line of her scene. Tomorrow, she’d book the part.