Aristippus - Robin's Story

I didn't have the time or the money to just sit at some soda fountain counter, sipping a Coke, and hope to be the next Lana Turner. However, I did need money, so the next best thing was to get a job in the area. After several unsuccessful tries, I managed to get a job at the Tiago Coffee Bar + kitchen as a server. I like the place for several reasons. It's only open for breakfast and lunch. So, I never had to work nights. And the location is absolutely perfect. It's on Hollywood Boulevard, and both Elvis Presley's Star as well as the famous statue, The Four Ladies of Hollywood, are just outside on the sidewalk.

Now the downside of that is that we serve as many tourists as Hollywood locals. But it's all about exposure, and I realized that. Another drawback is that every server there, guys as well as girls, are doing the same thing I'm doing. But Tiago's has a full bar, so even at breakfast and lunch, I get to serve alcohol and flirt my ass off while I'm doing it.

The first several months were relatively uneventful. It took time to learn who the actual Hollywood power brokers were. I mean, none of them wore a button that said, 'Kiss Me, I'm a Prince.' But after a while, you could get pretty good at separating the wheat from the chaff.

And on the days I wasn't waiting tables or rehearsing for a theatrical production at school, I stood in line to be an extra. Now, this is probably the most degrading aspect of looking for a part in a Hollywood project. Dozens, if not hundreds, of film wannabes, line up every morning, hoping to be selected as an Extra in whatever film or TV production was being shot that day. They used to print call sheets every morning in the paper, but now it's all online. It lists projects that are looking for extras for the next day. It describes, in very general terms, what they are looking for. Men or women, general appearance, age, and most important - style of clothing. Generally, and I do mean generally, unless it's a period piece, they don't provide much in the way of wardrobe. So, you have to come dressed for the part.

At Goodwill, you can always pick up cool and unique items of apparel. So, April and I would drive around the greater Los Angeles area on Saturdays for smaller and more out-of-the-way Goodwill and thrift shops. It was always fun, reasonably inexpensive, and a great way to see the city. You know, it's weird. I've lived here since I was seven. But the city is so massive, and so diverse, there is always someplace you have never seen before. And over time, we both developed very eclectic wardrobes. And since we were both about the same size - voila, double the fun at half the price.

Now throughout my sophomore year at Northridge, I did get jobs as extras. It usually paid between $100 to $200 a day, depending on how many hours you had to stand around and wait. But it allowed me to get my SAG card, which was an essential first step in my career. And though I never got a speaking part that first year, I was in several productions where you could actually see me and recognize me on the screen. I was slowly moving up from extra to a bit-part actor. And the next step was to actually get a speaking part.

As I began my junior year at Northridge, I had still not gotten that coveted first role. I'd spent over a thousand dollars on Publicity Photos, printed business cards, made-up lists of my stage and screen performances, and had them printed on glossy paper. All I needed was a way to get them into the hands of casting directors. And I might add, I had an agent, but that seemed to be worthless. There were literally thousands of out-of-work actors in the same position that I was. I felt that all I needed was that one lucky Lana Turner break.

And finally, one day, while working the lunch shift at Tiago's, I may have gotten that break. Or maybe not. I had a table of five gentlemen, all middle-aged and all clearly Hollywood types. They had papers and their iPads out on the table. And they had been discussing some project for over two hours. The five of them had already consumed two bottles of wine, plus cocktails. So, when they finally called for the check, I was expecting a pretty nice tip.

One of them waved his credit card at me, and I quickly brought him the check. He didn't make eye contact with me at first, which is normal. Everyone in the movie business knows that every server in Hollywood is just looking for that first big break. So, they all know never to make eye contact lest they get the pitch.

This guy followed protocol and kept his eyes on his fellow diners - that is, until I brought back his credit card and the check to sign. "Thank you, Mr. Lundergan," I said in my sweetest Starlet voice. "I hope you and your associates have a wonderful rest of your afternoon." I then stood there, as close to him as I safely dared, smiling my Sweet Young Thing smile and batting my eyelashes, hoping he'd look up. And to my surprise, he did.

He looked up at me and paused before signing and adding what I hoped would be a big tip. "Do I know you?" he questioned.

When I ran his credit card, I recognized the name, Jerry Lundergan, but I couldn't place it. I knew he was in the business, but I couldn't remember how or where. I figured he was probably an Agent. And I already had one of those - even though it wasn't doing me any good. "I'm not sure," I said melodically. "Should I?"

I still wore my hair in the same short and sassy page boy, that I had first worn while performing in Chicago. And it was still dyed a dark espresso brown. I felt that it gave me the look of something between Liza Minnelli's character Sally Bowles in Cabaret and Uma Thurman's character in Pulp Fiction. I felt the look gave me a slight air of mystery, as well as a distinguishing trademark appearance. So maybe he had seen me in something - either as an extra, or some small uncredited bit role.

He paused for a moment, and studying my face, said, "I think I've seen you in something. What's your name again?"

I instantly whipped out one of my business cards and handed it to him. Now we were not supposed to ever do this, and if the manager had seen me, I'm sure I would have gotten in trouble for it. But he did ask. So, in a hopeful and flirty tone, I chimed, "Robin Winters,"

He studied the card for a second and then, looking back at me, said, "Robin Winters, Actress - Model." He paused again and then, looking back up at me, added, "I may have something for you - can I keep this?"

My heart skipped a beat. "Oh yes, Mr. Lundergan. And I would love to discuss any opportunities you might have."

He added a thirty percent tip to the check, which was already over two hundred dollars, just for lunch. And when he handed the presentation book back to me, he added his business card.

I was on Cloud 9 for the rest of the day. Oh my God, this was so exciting. This may have just been my big break. We're not allowed to carry our phones with us while on duty. But once I got back to my locker at the end of my shift, he had already texted me. 'Hi, Robin. This is Jerry Lundergan. Please call me when you can.'

Now I was so excited, my hands were shaking. I changed into street clothes and raced to my car so that I could talk to him in privacy. He answered on the first ring, and I just started talking. "Mr. Lundergan, this is Robin Winters, from Tiago's this afternoon. I'm returning your call."

"Yes, Robin," he started out. "I looked you up on the SAG website, and I actually may have something for you."

"Oh, Mr. Lundergan, that would be wonderful..." And before I could finish my sentence, he interrupted me.

"How about dinner tomorrow night, and I could go over the details with you?"

My heart skipped another beat. "Dinner?" I asked.

"Sure, nothing fancy, just so we can chat and get to know each other better."

Even in my temporary state of euphoria, I knew what getting to know each other better meant. I might have been born at night, but I wasn't born last night. Nervously, I answered, "Okay, when and where?"

"How about I pick you up?" said the spider to the fly.

"Uh, well, I live over in Northridge. How about I just meet you? I think that would be easier for both of us."

"Okay, sure. How about the Musso & Frank Grill at around eight - eight o'clock tomorrow night."

"It's a date, Mr. Lundergan," I replied. Musso & Frank Grill at eight."

"Oh, call me Jerry, please," he insisted.

"Yes, Jerry. Thank you, Jerry. I'll see you then." God, I wish I hadn't said, 'It's a date.' But it was too late now: I'd already said it. And nothing fancy. Jeez, the Musso & Frank Grill is one of Hollywood's oldest restaurants, if not the oldest. And it's anything but cheap. I'm just glad that I had already turned twenty-one, for I'm sure he planned on wining and dining me, before bedding me.

When I got back to our apartment, April wasn't there. So, I just sat on the sofa with a glass of wine and tried to look up as much information on Jerry Lundergan as I could find. He was a Casting Director for La Mesa Films, a mid-sized independent production company here in Los Angeles. I scanned through their film library, and they had produced a few successful films, but nothing really big. They were generally production partners with larger companies. And most of their current work was on mini-series for cable TV and streaming services.

Just about as I was about to dig further into upcoming projects they might have on the books, April walked in. "Hey, what's going on?" she quipped, as I was still hunched over my laptop.

"Oh my God, April," I said as I spun around to face her. You won't believe what has just happened."

"You got an audition," she said, throwing her arms out to congratulate me.

"Yes and no," I said, still not totally enthralled with what I knew was likely lying ahead.

"What?" April said as she realized I had doubts.

"He wants to meet me for dinner first," I said with a frown.

"Humm," she groaned. "Who is this guy? How does he know you?"

"He was a customer at Tiago's this afternoon. He told me that I looked familiar, and we exchanged business cards."

"Oh," April said as I handed her Jerry's card. "Did he hit on you right there at Tiago's?"

"No, he texted me after he left, and then I called him back."

"Are you checking him out now?" April said, glancing at my open laptop.

"Uh, I was just checking out La Mesa Productions first."

"Well?" she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Well, that part looks fine. It's a mid-size production company. Looks like they've been around for more than twenty years. Does mostly joint ventures with other companies on TV mini-series," I said.

"And what about this Jerry guy," April asked, now beginning to understand the doubts I had.

"I don't know; I was just about to look him up."

For the next thirty minutes, we searched all the usual places to get information on people in the movie business. First, we went to the SAG website. He was listed, and it confirmed that he was a Casting Director. And that he had been with La Mesa for seven years. Then we checked IMDb for a bio. There wasn't much. Just that he was forty-three years old, apparently not married, and that he had been born in Israel.

"Well, at least you know he's circumcised," April joked.

We both laughed for a good three minutes over that, as we refilled our wine glasses. We continued to search LA newspapers and Hollywood gossip rags online, but even after an hour, we couldn't find much on him. Just that he was clearly in the business and appeared to be who he said he was. "So, are you going to meet him?" she finally asked.

"I don't know, still not sure," I said as I drained my third glass of wine.

"Go for it, Robin!" April said as she placed her hand on my shoulder. "The guy might be perfectly harmless. And if he is a Wolf, at least it might lead to a part. A good part, and then you'll be on your way."

I didn't work at Tiago's the next day. I had two classes at Northridge, including a rehearsal for an upcoming production. However, my mind was clearly on my date with Jerry. Once I got back home, I took a long shower, blow-dried my hair, and dressed sexy for the night. I put on a satin thong, black high heels, and a sparkly cocktail dress - no bra. Add a little makeup and a few gold chains, and I was ready to go.

I arrived at the Musso & Frank Grill a little before eight and simply sat in my car waiting for eight o'clock. At straight-up eight, I started for the door, and just as I reached it, Jerry appeared coming from the opposite direction. He was dressed in a business suit, dress shirt, and no tie. Very Southern California. Taking my hand, he lightly kissed my cheek, and we walked in hand in hand.

He must have been a regular, for just about everyone there knew him, and I was mildly impressed by that. We were immediately seated in a back booth, I assume, away from prying eyes. Hollywood tabloid columnists are everywhere around here. When the waiter arrived at our table, Jerry said, "I'll have a Hendricks Martini very dry," and then he looked to me for my order.

I had not pre-planned this, but when I opened my mouth to speak, "Cuba Libre" just spilled out. I don't usually drink those, but I guess in the back of my mind, it was just reminiscent of my first sexual experience and somehow seemed appropriate. The waiter looked at me like he was about to ask for my ID, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jerry give him the 'not now' look, and he simply turned and walked away to place our order.

Dinner was what you would expect from a one-hundred-year-old restaurant. Masterfully prepared, exquisitely served, melt-in-your-mouth delicious, and stupid expensive. I was just glad I wasn't paying for it - or was I? We had appetizers, salads, and the main course, before finally sharing a dessert. For our entrées, I had the swordfish, and Jerry had the Filet Mignon. And as I had fish and Jerry had red meat, he ordered a bottle of Rosé. I had never had a blush wine before. I'd heard they were sweet and not very good. But this one was dry and very enjoyable.

And I had brought my portfolio with me, just in case this really was a business meeting. It contained a selection of my publicity shots and a summary of all my performances. The list wasn't that long, but it was varied, and I felt that it showed my range very nicely. For the first thirty or forty minutes, most of the conversation centered on me and my experience. Then somewhere between the salads and the entrées, the conversation morphed into all about him. Jerry was a huge name-dropper, and he went on and on, Ad infinitum, about all the famous stars he'd worked with, and deals he'd done, and of course, all of his dealings with SAG and the Academy, and how he always got the best of them.

As we were finishing our after-dinner drinks, he had a cognac, and I had a cappuccino; Jerry folded his hands on the table and said, "Well, Robin, would you like to head over to the studio to discuss your screen test?"

Now, this was the first he had mentioned a screen test, and it was already ten o'clock. "Well," I said, a little apprehensive. "Isn't it getting a little late? And you haven't told me what this part is all about."

As he waved his arm in the air for the check, he said, "Oh, I can show you much better than I can tell you. And besides, I want to show you the studio where they will be giving you the screen test." He paused for a moment to see if I was about to bolt or not. And when I continued to sit quietly, he continued, "The screen test is critical. That's the make-or-break moment of signing someone to this part. So, the more familiar you are with the studio, the better."

All of that would have sounded fine if it weren't ten o'clock at night. It was Bull Shit, and I knew it. But he seemed to have checked out, and I really wanted a part in whatever movie it was that they were making. So, this was a make-or-break decision for me. "Okay, I'd love to see the studio," I said after a hard swallow. And I hadn't had sex in probably several months, so I was up for that. The only remaining issue was that Jerry was my mom's age. Jeez, that meant he was also Dale's age, and I certainly couldn't imagine having sex with Dale. But, on the other hand, if this is what it takes to get a break in this business, I was ready.

His studio was actually closer to Culver City. And though it was only about eight miles away, even after ten at night, it still took about thirty minutes to get there. We took both cars, because I didn't want to get stuck over there without a ride home. And it didn't seem to be an issue for Jerry. When we pulled up, it was in a relatively new industrial park. The offices were all dark. But he had the keys and knew the code to turn off the security alarm. He flicked lights on and off as he walked me through the office, and eventually, we made our way back to a fairly large studio in the back. It didn't really look like a movie set studio. It was more like a TV studio where they might film sitcoms or soap operas, but it was definitely a studio.

He led me to the room where he said they would record the screen tests. And yes, it was all set up for filming. There were a couple of high-end professional cameras and various backdrops they could raise and lower as needed. He set me on a stool and handed me a script off a nearby table. He then clicked on a couple of lights, and as he recorded me with his cell phone, he had me read a half dozen different lines.

I was still nervous, but I was getting excited. The more Jerry had me read, the more comfortable I became. Then he showed me the recordings on his cell phone. They were good, really good and Jerry kept telling me I was a natural, that the camera loved me, and that I was on my way to stardom.

"These are awesome," Jerry raved. "Would you like to see the actual script?"

"Yes, I'd love to see the script," I shrieked.

"Follow me," he said as he grabbed my hand and led me back into the front of the building and his office.

Upon entering his office, I was impressed. It was larger than I would have expected. Now it wasn't huge, but it was very nice. There were signed photos on all the walls, as well as loads of awards and citations for various achievements. A large desk was covered with stacks of papers and printed scripts, and a giant poster was centered on the wall behind the desk. The poster appeared to be signed by dozens of people, probably the cast and crew of the picture. But it was for a picture I'd never seen or heard of.

There was an oversized executive chair behind the desk, several leather side chairs, and of course, on the back wall was the obligatory couch. The Casting Couch. And I would have been surprised if it hadn't been there.

Jerry motioned for me to sit on the couch as he grabbed a script off the desk. Then sitting down next to me, he placed the script on his lap and patted the cover. "This is it, Robin," he said. "Russian River. It's a romantic drama, in six parts."

I reached for it, and as I began to flip through it, I asked, "What is it about?"

"Think 'Mystic Pizza - with Julia Roberts.' It's basically the remake of a classic, only set in Northern California on the Russian River."

I flipped to the front to the list of characters. "So, what part do you think would be good for me?"

"Cindy," he said with confident emphasis. "She is one of the waitresses that work in the diner and besties with the lead character."

My eyes went to the top of the page. It appeared that the lead character was named, Cameron. "Who's going to play Cameron?" I asked.