This is the woman that Michelle Beck wanted to portray. Could she do it?

Well, she was the right sex.

By the time Michelle and I waited in Roland Lanois' anteroom, however, any hint that I felt Michelle to be utterly wrong for the role had vanished. After a certain point as an agent, you simply stop worrying about the far-reaching implications of what you are doing and deal with the at-the-moment details. Some would call it enforced amorality. But it's really just a matter of being there for your client, and doing what needs to be done. At the moment, I was trying to keep Michelle from hyperventilating.

"Breathe," I said. "Respiration is a good thing."

"I'm so sorry, Tom," Michelle said. She was gripping both sides of her chair so hard it looked like she might dent the metal. "I'm just so nervous. I didn't think I would be. But I am. Oh, God," she said. She started thumping her chest with her fist. "Oh, Tom, I'm sorry." She sounded like a helicopter.

I grabbed the fist before she could break her ribs. "Stop apologizing. You haven't done anything wrong. It's okay to be nervous, Michelle. This is a pretty big role. But I don't think you need to bruise yourself over it. Have you read the scene Roland wants you to do?"

"Yes," she said, and then grinned sheepishly. "I actually memorized the whole thing. All the parts. I didn't want to blow it. Isn't that stupid?"

"No, not really," I said. "You know, when Elvis started work on his very first film, he memorized the entire script. All the parts, not just his own. No one told him there was any other way to do it."

Michelle looked at me, confused. "Elvis was an actor?"

"Well, I don't know that I'd go that far," I said. "But he was in movies. Jailhouse Rock. Love Me Tender. Blue Hawaii."

"I thought those were songs," Michelle said.

"They are songs," I agreed. "But they're also movies."

"Oh, great," Michelle said. "Now Elvis songs are going on in my head." She stood up and started pacing. Watching her was making me tired.

Rajiv, Roland's assistant, came out of Roland's office. "Okay," he said. "We're setting up the video camera, so if you want to come on in, we'll get started right away."

Michelle took in a sharp intake of breath; it sounded like she was trying to inhale the ficus plant on the other side of the office. Rajiv jumped slightly at the noise.

"Give us just a minute," I said.

"No rush," Rajiv said, and closed the door.

"Oh God," Michelle said, wringing her hands. "Oh God oh God oh God oh God."

I went over and started massaging her shoulders. "Come on, Michelle," I said. "This is what you wanted."

"God, Tom," Michelle said. "Why am I so nervous? I've never been this nervous about an audition before."

"It's because you're finally using a script that has words longer than two syllables," I said.

Michelle wheeled around and pushed me, semi-hard, in the chest. "You're a jerk," she said.

"Noted," I said. "On the other hand, you're not hyperventilating any more. Now, come on. Let's do this thing." I took her hand, walked her to the office door, and opened it.

Inside was Roland, his assistant Rajiv, and a woman that I did not recognize. Roland and the woman were sitting comfortably on the couch; Rajiv was standing over a video camera, fiddling with something.

Roland got up and strode over to us as we came through the door. "Tom," he said. "A pleasure to see you again. I hope you are well."

"I am, Roland, thanks," I said, and motioned to Michelle. "This is my client, Michelle Beck."

"But of course. Miss Beck. The woman who has driven my poor assistant to traitorous activity. It is a pleasure." Roland took Michelle's hand, and in a playfully dramatic fashion, kissed it. Michelle smiled uncertainly and glanced over to me. I gave a shrug that said go with it.

"And now, if you'll both allow me to make introductions of my own," Roland said. "First, Miss Beck, I should like to introduce you Rajiv Patel, my assistant, with whom you have had many long and interesting phone conversations. I believe somewhere in the office he may have erected a shrine to you."

Rajiv was dark-skinned enough that it was somewhat astonishing to be able to see his blush. "Hello, Michelle," he said, and went back to fooling around with the video camera.

"And this," he said, turning to the woman on the couch, "Is Avika Spiegelman, who is one of the assistant producers of the film."

I walked over to shake her hand. "A pleasure," I said. "Are you related to Rachel Spiegelman?"

"She was my aunt," she said. "Actually my second cousin, or cousin twice removed, or whatever you'd like to call it. But we all called her 'Aunt Rachel.' It was simpler that way."

"In addition to being one of our producers, Ms. Spiegelman is acting as an advisor to the film, giving us insight to the real Rachel Spiegelman," Roland said. "As such, I thought it might be prudent to have her give us her thoughts."

"I loved you in Summertime Blues," Avika said to Michelle. "You were perfect for that role."

Roland and I caught the subtext of that statement; Michelle did not. Instead she smiled brightly. "Thank you," she said. Avika smiled thinly. It was going to be a tougher crowd than I had expected.

"All right, we're ready," Rajiv said.

"Splendid," Roland clapped his hands together and turned back to Michelle. "My dear Miss Beck, if you wouldn't mind sitting in the chair in front of the video camera. Ms. Spiegelman will be feeding you lines while Rajiv records you. Do you have a copy of the script?"

"She memorized the scene, Roland," I said.

"Really," Roland said. "Well, that's certainly a point in your favor, my dear. Let's have a seat, shall we?"

Michelle sat in front of the video camera. Rajiv fixed the focus on the camera and then stepped back. Avika opened up her script. Roland sat back down on the couch. I stood back by the door.

Roland looked at Michelle. "Are we ready, then?"

Michelle nodded. Roland glanced over at Avika and nodded. Avika scrolled down her page until she found the line she was looking for. "'How dare you tell me what I can and cannot do,'" she said, tonelessly. "'You are my wife, not my master.'"

Michelle blinked, opened her mouth as if to say something, and then closed it again. "I'm sorry," she finally said. "Could you say the line again?"

"'How dare you tell me what I can and cannot do,'" Avika repeated. "'You are my wife, not my master.'"

Michelle stared at Avika, then stared over to me, panicked.

"Is something wrong, Miss Beck?" Roland inquired.

"I...uh...I," Michelle began, and placed her hand on her chest. Eventually she got out the words. "That's not the scene I memorized," she said.

"It's scene 29," Avika said, peering over the top of her script.

"I memorized scene 24," Michelle said. "I thought we were doing scene 24."

Roland looked over to Rajiv. "Rajiv, did you tell Miss Beck we were going to be doing scene 24?"

"I don't think so," Rajiv said. "I'm pretty sure I said scene 29."

"I must have read it wrong after I wrote it down," Michelle said. "My nines and my fours look a lot alike."

"As do mine," Roland said. "It's a common mistake, I'm sure. Why don't we just do scene 24, then."

Avika was already there. "This scene only has four lines in it," she said. "Three of them are spoken by other characters."

"What's Rachel's line?" Roland asked.

Avika looked down at the page. "'Yes,'" she said.

"Hmmm," Roland said. "Not a lot to work with."

"Now we know how she memorized the scene," Avika said. Even Michelle couldn't miss that one. She blushed and began taking in sharp breaths.

Roland clapped his hands together again and stood up. "Why don't we do this. Rajiv will go get a copy of the script for Miss Beck, and we'll spend a couple of minutes preparing scene 29, and then we'll be ready to give it a go. Sound good? All right. Rajiv, if you wouldn't mind getting that script and working with Miss Beck for a couple of minutes, then. I'm going to go for a little walk." He wandered out of the room, distracted. After a moment, Avika Spiegelman followed him. Rajiv hovered, and then went out into the main office to get another copy of the script.