The pale morning light barely filtered through the flimsy curtains of Roxie's apartment, casting a dim glow over the room. She stirred under her thin sheets as the persistent buzz of her phone alarm rang out from the nightstand. With a groggy hand, she silenced it, blinking into the faint light of another day. Her hazel eyes, still half-closed, struggled to adjust to the room around her.
With a soft groan, Roxie pulled herself upright, kicking off the blankets and running her fingers through her wavy, dark brown hair. It was a mess, her natural bed head sticking up in different directions, and she knew it would take a few minutes with a brush just to tame it. Her eyes, rimmed with the remnants of yesterday's mascara, barely stayed open, the exhaustion of late shifts and auditions making every morning feel like a battle.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded over to the cramped bathroom, where the mirror, with its cracks along the edges, reflected back a tired face she was growing all too familiar with. She leaned in closer, glaring at the small mole near her right cheek, a mole she always wished would just disappear. Some days it felt like that tiny imperfection was the universe's cruel joke. Her hazel eyes stared back at her, bleary and a bit bloodshot from another sleepless night.
"Another audition, another day," she muttered to herself.
Roxie splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would shock her awake. The tiredness clung to her, but she moved on, reaching for the small, tattered makeup bag that sat on the chipped sink. Her hand automatically pulled out the foundation first, applying it over her light skin in careful strokes to mask the exhaustion. Concealer next, to hide the bags under her eyes. Mascara followed, to make her half-shut eyes seem more alive, more alert than they actually were.
As she moved through her routine, her thoughts wandered back to when things felt simpler, before LA, before the rejections and the long hours at the diner. She remembered her father's smile, how he would sit with her on the couch, watching old movies. He used to say she had the spark of an actress, that one day she'd be the one people watched on screen.
Her heart ached, as it always did when she thought of him. He'd died when she was only nine, and the world had never felt the same afterward. Since then, it was just her and her mother, moving from one place to the next, her mother losing job after job, her mood darkening with every loss.
With a shake of her head, Roxie pushed those thoughts away. There was no time to linger on what was already lost.
Returning to her bedroom, she rummaged through her closet, a mix of thrift store finds and clothes that had seen better days. She pulled out a simple black dress and a worn leather jacket, something that said "trying hard, but not too hard" for today's audition. She tugged her brush through her tangled hair, trying to make it look somewhat presentable, but even that wasn't enough to fully tame the waves. With a frustrated sigh, she gave up, tying her hair into a loose bun and grabbing her bag.
Just as she was about to leave, the shouting started. Her neighbors were at it again, screaming insults through the thin walls, their argument echoing in the small hallway. Roxie winced but ignored it, pulling her jacket tighter around herself as she stepped out into the cool morning air.
The gray morning hadn't lifted much as Roxie walked to the bus stop, the air cool and the sky still heavy with the remnants of night. The city was waking up around her, but it felt like it moved in a different world, people hurrying to jobs, cars honking in the distance. She pulled her phone from her bag, a smile tugging at her lips as she saw Nick's name flash on the screen.
"Hey, Nick," she answered, her voice brightening for the first time that morning.
"Good morning, starlet!" came Nick's cheerful voice on the other end, immediately warming her. "On your way to win an Oscar, or at least pretend to, right?"
Roxie laughed, though there was a tired edge to it. "Pretend is right. I'm headed to another audition for a part I probably won't get, but hey, you've got to keep trying, right?"
Nick's voice softened, though it still held that playful tone he always used to make her feel better. "Well, if they can't see your talent, they're idiots. Just remember, you're a star. You've got that spark."
"I don't know, Nick. LA's been rough." Roxie glanced around as she neared the bus stop, spotting the familiar faces of early commuters already waiting. "Sometimes it feels like I'm just spinning my wheels here."
Nick chuckled, "You're not spinning your wheels. You're setting the stage for the big breakthrough. Remember, you've always got a fanbase back in Ohio, even if it's just me and my cat."
Roxie smiled at the image. Nick had always been her biggest supporter, ever since they were kids acting out movie scenes in his living room. He had this way of always making her feel like everything was going to work out, even when her confidence faltered.
"Thanks, Nick," she said softly, her voice dipping a bit lower. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Oh, you'd probably end up in some bizarre reality TV show," he teased, "but instead, you're destined for greatness. Now go knock 'em dead, okay?"
Roxie heard the bus approaching, the squeal of its brakes pulling her back to the present. She quickly glanced at her reflection in a nearby shop window, her dark hair was still a little unruly, but her makeup at least made her look somewhat awake.
"Alright, alright. I'll text you after the audition," she said, stepping onto the bus.
"Good. I want to hear all about how you killed it. Break a leg, starlet."
She hung up with a smile, pocketing her phone as the bus jerked forward, pulling her into the rhythm of the city. The world outside the window blurred as LA sped past, a city full of dreamers just like her, each one trying to catch their break.
But even on days like this, when her confidence was paper-thin, and the weight of her dreams felt almost too much to carry, Nick's words lingered in her mind. He believed in her, even when she had trouble believing in herself. And maybe, just maybe, today would be different.
She leaned her head against the window, clutching the strap of her bag a little tighter, the sound of the city a steady hum in the background.
Roxie sat in the back of the bus, the faint rumble of the engine and the hum of the city blending into white noise as she watched Los Angeles pass by through the grimy window. The streets were already teeming with life, people hustling to jobs, tourists wandering aimlessly, and street vendors setting up their stands for the day. The city had a pulse, an energy that never seemed to fade, no matter how many disappointments it dealt out.
She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, eyes half-closed as she let the scenes blur together: the towering skyscrapers that felt miles away from her own rundown neighborhood, the shiny billboards advertising the latest blockbuster, and the occasional flash of palm trees against the concrete jungle. Every sight was a reminder of what she was chasing, of the glamorous life that always felt just out of reach.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her attention back. She glanced at the screen, an automated reminder from her calendar:
AUDITION: 10:30 AM – ST. MICHAEL'S CASTING AGENCY.
Roxie sighed, slipping the phone back into her bag. This wasn't her first audition for St. Michael's, and if past experiences were any indication, it probably wouldn't be her last. The casting directors there always seemed cold, distant, like they were already looking past her the moment she walked in the door.
But she couldn't afford to be cynical, not now. Even if her chances were slim, every audition was another opportunity to prove herself, to be noticed. She had to stay optimistic. There wasn't any other choice.
The bus hit a pothole, jolting her in her seat. Roxie blinked, adjusting herself and pulling her jacket closer as the morning breeze filtered in through the cracked window.
"LA," she muttered under her breath, a mix of awe and frustration in her tone.
It was the city of dreams, but it was also the city of disappointments. For every person who made it, a thousand others got lost in the shuffle, chewed up and spat out by the relentless grind. But even knowing that, she couldn't imagine being anywhere else. This city had something magnetic about it, something that called to her, even in her darkest moments.
As the bus neared her stop, Roxie stood up and braced herself for the inevitable rejection. She was used to it by now, but it didn't mean it stung any less. Her hand brushed over the card Nick had given her for good luck, an old movie ticket from when they'd seen Titanic for the first time together. They were just kids then, but the memory felt fresh, a reminder of how much she loved this world, even when it seemed impossible.
She stepped off the bus, her boots hitting the pavement with a soft thud. The casting office was only a few blocks away, tucked between an upscale restaurant and a boutique clothing store. It was one of those buildings that looked sleek and polished from the outside, but on the inside, it was all about ruthless efficiency.
As she walked, her thoughts drifted back to her father. He would've told her to hold her head high, to go into that audition like she already had the part. It was the same pep talk she'd given herself a hundred times, but today, it felt harder to believe. Still, she pushed those doubts aside. There wasn't room for second-guessing.
Roxie reached the building, her heart starting to race as she pulled open the heavy glass door. The waiting room was already filled with other actresses, some scrolling through their phones, others running lines under their breath. They all looked just like her: hopeful, exhausted, desperate for that one chance.
Taking a deep breath, Roxie checked in at the front desk and took a seat, the weight of the morning settling over her. She glanced at the clock, 10:15 AM. Fifteen minutes until she faced another round of potential rejection.
The minutes ticked by slowly in the waiting room, each one stretching longer than the last. Roxie tried to focus on her script, but her eyes kept darting to the other women in the room. They all looked so poised, so put together. Perfect hair, flawless makeup, expensive shoes. In contrast, she felt underdressed and underprepared, her worn leather jacket and thrift store dress suddenly feeling like a mistake.
She shook her head, trying to banish the creeping self-doubt. This was no time to lose focus. She knew her lines, she had practiced her delivery a hundred times in front of the mirror. All she had to do was walk in there and show them what she was capable of.
The door to the casting office creaked open, and a frazzled assistant poked her head out. "Roxanne Miller?"
Roxie's stomach lurched. She stood up, her legs feeling unsteady as she followed the assistant down the narrow hallway and into the casting room. The moment she stepped inside, she was hit with the familiar wave of nerves, the cold, sterile room, the indifferent faces of the casting directors, the too-bright lights overhead.
"Take your mark," one of the directors said without looking up from his clipboard.
Roxie nodded, moving to the taped X on the floor in front of the camera. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she forced a smile, trying to project confidence. She could do this. She'd done it a thousand times in front of the mirror, and this was just another performance.
"Whenever you're ready," the director said, still not making eye contact.
Roxie stood on the taped X, taking a deep breath. Her hands felt clammy as she focused on the opening lines of her monologue, determined to give it her all.
She began, her voice strong at first, projecting the emotion she had rehearsed countless times.
"I, I've loved you since the moment we met. And I know... I know it sounds crazy, b-but... when you looked at me that day, it was like... everything just... clicked."
Her heart pounded as she delivered the lines, channeling the character's desperation. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the casting directors glance down at his phone. Her confidence wavered, and suddenly the words she had so carefully practiced began to slip away.
Roxie faltered, her voice catching.
"I... uh, I, I knew that, " she stuttered, swallowing hard as she tried to recover. "That we... that we were meant... meant to be together. But you..."
She hesitated, her mind blanking as the room seemed to close in around her. The rest of the line was lost, her thoughts scrambling to find the next words, but the rhythm was gone.
"You, um... y-you... didn't feel the same," she finished weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes flickered toward the casting directors, hoping for some kind of response, but their faces remained unreadable, indifferent.
Roxie clenched her hands into fists, trying to regain her footing. She pushed through the rest of the monologue, but it was clear the moment had already passed.
"You'll... you'll never know how much it hurt... to walk away," she finished, her voice trailing off.
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. One of the casting directors finally glanced up, offering a half-hearted, "Thanks for coming in. We'll be in touch."
And that was it.
It was the standard brush-off. Roxie forced a smile, thanked them, and quickly left the room, her mind racing with a mix of frustration and disappointment. She'd blown it. Again.
As she walked back down the hallway, her legs felt like lead. The other actresses in the waiting room barely glanced at her as she passed, already focused on their own performances. Roxie pushed open the heavy door and stepped back into the morning sunlight, the brightness feeling harsh after the dimness of the casting office.
Her throat tightened as she walked down the street, replaying the audition in her head. The stumble, the shift in her energy, every mistake felt magnified now, like a giant flashing sign reminding her she wasn't good enough.
But she kept walking, refusing to let the tears come. She had another shift at the diner in a few hours, and there was no time to wallow. This was just one more rejection in a long line of them, and she couldn't let it break her.