Page 12 - Connecting Obsessions.indd

She was right, of course. They had employed a fair number of

starry-eyed youngsters since taking over the Hollywood eatery seven
years ago, in 2005. Most were young women, hoping against hope to

succeed in the movies. Unsurprisingly, none did so; it was a cut-throat
business.

However, he sensed that Rachel Starr might be different. At least,
she’d been through acting school and, let’s face it, she did have the most

appropriate surname. Perhaps she would be the exception.
The sound of the door opening again caught his attention. That

guy from the corner table was leaving, and in a bit of a rush. He’d
been there long enough. Why do people never leave themselves enough

time? Sam shook his head again as he watched the figure scurry off in
the same direction that Rachel had taken.

* * *

Rachel walked into the hall, glanced around, and sighed. All
casting sessions seemed to operate to the same dreary standards.

Find the drabbest hall you can. It should, if possible, have a
small stage area, decked with an uneven surface in which there are

also numerous small holes. These two attributes must guarantee that
anyone walking upon it will trip up—or trap their heels in the case of

the women.
Place the most rickety folding table you have to one side, at which

those attending can register their interest but on which they should
never place their purses, or bags, for fear of collapsing the darned thing.

Finally, sprinkle a handful of equally rickety folding chairs around the
hall ensuring, of course, that there are nowhere near enough for all

those who are likely to attend.

6 | Connecting Obsessions