15 for 15 Contest

Duel

They wanted anger. That’s what they told him. Get into character, find that inner demon and portray it. Yet looking back at the video footage Will knew he looked like a total ass. It wasn’t just his expression, but rather the entire getup they forced him to wear. That wig did nothing. It looked utterly ridiculous, especially on him. It didn’t cover his hair for one thing, and the cone shaped things had no appeal whatsoever, looking more like the bras Madonna wore in the 90s. Just what I need; to be associated with cones shaped boobs on top of my head.

The black coat itched as if the wool had tiny wood chips digging into his skin. It smelled rotten, permeated by months of storage with a horde of mothballs. No wonder his expression looked more as if he was about to puke, than shoot someone to the death.

The director stood with a few others, their voices hushed. He needed this job, needed the paycheck. His principles would have to take a back seat. He’d do what they asked, pretend he smelled of roses, and find that expression they expected. He had to. It was the first break he caught in two years living in LA.

“Everyone back on set please.”

Will sucked in a deep breath, tried not to gag on the nasty aroma that surrounded him, and moved toward the set.

He would be ready.


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