•✦—✦•
March 14th, London
Things had settled into a nice little rhythm that I could finally start catching my breath. My training went perfectly as I started to nail my ballet moves. Gilles still criticized me a lot, but compared to Day 1, it was like I was swapped for someone else. Being more comfortable with my body helped me with singing, and I would soon start fusing my dancing and singing. My teachers called it, as everyone did in town, song and dance. Yes, I would like to break into a song and dance, but instead of a weekend session, I had been hauled by my mother to London, capital where hope goes to thrive or die trying.
She had read somewhere, probably the papers that I needed an agent's representation in order to start getting parts in anything acting-related. I didn't disagree with her, but my revelations had many things to say about them. As we walked to the agency she had spoken to, I was trying to convince her to do something else.
"Mum, why don't we get a photographer to take pictures of me? That's what agents do, they send your pictures if the role matches your description," I explained to her.
My revelation had nothing to do with acting, but it was clear that I was signed for a talent agency in my past life as a singer. I was happy when I learned that. I was building a rough outline of the person I was; nothing was clear, but before I hadn't even known if those memories were truly mine.
"An agent will do all of that for you," Mum told me.
"But they charge you 10–20% of everything," I disagreed.
"They find you the jobs, they deserve it." That was a good point.
"But look at what happened with Doctor Dolittle. It was an open casting call, but if I was signed to an agent, they would still take the money despite not doing anything," I explained my hangup.
"Oh, I had no idea." Mum hummed.
She was finally starting to see the light.
"But it makes sense if you think about it." Mum started. I sighed. "If you are busy doing Doctor Dolittle, you're busy for six months or more. They can't book you for anything else. Especially since you have limited hours you can work," Mum said.
I just stared at her. That was not even something I had thought of, and she immediately came to the conclusion on why agents are paid for any acting money a talent usually earns. It made a lot of sense. Instead of me trying to influence my mum, she had sold the idea to me. We walked along River Thames, looking at the London Eye until we were near London Bridge. Tourists and Londoners were walking along it in droves, while a massive steel ship sat on the pier.
"Oh my god, what is that?!" I pointed the ship out to Mum.
"HMS Belfast, it's a museum," Mum explained, as if it was any old thing.
"Can we go see it? Please?" I may have not even started acting professionally, but I mastered my begging face ages ago.
"Fine, we will." I smiled; my success rate was wavering as I got older, but I still had it. "But first we'll meet the agent I spoke to on the telly. You have to keep your promises. Now where to is West End?"
—
I enjoyed the long walk from the London Bridge over to West End. There were historical tourist attractions all around me including the London Bridge, HMS Belfast, St. Paul's Cathedral, and London Tower. I could really only enjoy those sights if I had my head slightly pointed to my right, due to one huge eyesore in sight. To the west stood a construction site on both sides of the River Thames, while in the river were three identical sets of Y-shaped foundations sticking out like a sore thumb. Only interesting thing was the massive red triangle that crowned each of the foundations. Cables ran to connect the three separate elements, yet so far there was no bridge, only something like a Quidditch goal post for trolls.
River Thames was dirtier than my beloved River Dee, but the sheer grandness of it was incomparable. It also made me feel guilty that I walked on the pier of River Thames yet had never made the smaller effort of walking to River Dee from my house. Funny how you can end up seeing more of a new place than the one you spent your whole life in.
I acted an unruly child for the first time in ages; there were too many things to see in London. Mind you, I was from a place with rich history and many historical places, including a legitimate castle and moat. But Chester was where the Romans built a civilization, and Vikings co-opted it then abandoned it. London instead was built and improved over time and not just for the functionality that Romans had in mind. This place was luxury and decadence on display, ruled by many and ruled many. Each people that passed the city left a culture of their own in London. My only shortcoming was that I loved it.
"What is that?" I'd ask.
"Somerset House. Before you ask, I don't know what's in there now. It's usually government departments or an art school," Mum would reply.
"Oh my god, what is that?"
"I think it's a theatre? Oh, it's the Lyceum, huh, I always thought it was bigger."
Eggwashed buildings of grand decorum, restaurants and cafes all around followed by the classic London stock yellow bricks. I walked the streets of West End, where history and culture were written and rewritten, shown and told. This was a place that inspired artists of all kinds. I saw a Christopher's Restaurant that was housed in the most decorated building I'd seen so far from this close up. At that moment I connected with the character I wanted to play. Harry Potter had a similar thing happen to him when he walked through Diagon Alley. To him, London was just his backyard and the magical alley had taken him for a trip. London was my Diagon Alley. I had been in the city before, but I hadn't gone to the city center and seen the amazing sights of a country that once had the most cultural influence in the world.
I saw a fast food joint with a plaque that said Charles Dickens' office was located there. Just a few strides away I saw perfume stores and martini bars give way to the Royal Opera House. Castle-like protrusions surrounded the majestic glass winter garden supported by an iron frame. This was as good as magic in a way, and I kept eyes on everything that the tourists were drawn to, curious what they held in esteem.
A smile came to my face as I saw the tube station in the center of Covent Garden. Mum acted annoyed with me ogling every place and taking my sweet time looking over even useless things like menus. Now I realized that she wanted to take me on a walk and give me the tourist experience. I jumped up at her, she gasped and caught me and brought me up to her level. Soon I would be too big for her to lift, soon I would be lifting her.
"Mwahh." I kissed her on the cheeks. "Diolch o galon."
A gentle smile on my mum's face softened even more, and it was her turn to leave trails of kisses on me.
"If you learn Welsh properly, you'll get away with everything, bach."
Not even a few months ago I wouldn't have considered it. Learn a language to speak with my family members that already speak English? I mean, talk about pointless. But now I saw the need. Languages created communities, and communities were made of families. All I would achieve I'd owe to my family. Least I could do is to honor them.
"I will." I promised.
•✦—✦•
Just a few hundred meters away from the tube station stood the offices of Baldini Talent Agency. The tiny building was more a clothing store than an agency that was up on the second floor. We had to go around the building to find a back entrance that went up to their office. Already there were red flags that I was seeing, but I quietly followed Mum on her quest to find me an agent.
Tiny stairway made terrible thunk sounds as we walked up with how hollow it was. Offices upstairs were suitably small for the building. There were pillars made of paper and old documents set along the wall. I was not the fire brigade, but that seemed some sort of violation. Taking a deep breath, I attempted to calm myself. I was getting too judgmental just because I didn't want an agent.
Mum tapped on the door before her knuckles rapped in rhythm. 300 beats per minute, weird how my brain worked.
"Coming!" A posh voice called from inside. "Sorry, sorry." The voice continued as we heard things falling down.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, welcome! Welcome to Baldini Talent Agency." A very bald and tall man said.
"Hello, I've had an appointment with you, I think. Are you Adrian Baldini?"
"Yes, and you must be Erin Price. Please come in." Adrian gestured us in.
Inside of the office was just as expected, but thankfully the papers were placed in a corner and not as numerous. Instead there was a large wraparound desk and chair opposite it for meetings. My eyes drifted over the board at the back where headshots of a few men and women were stuck. I tried to see if I recognized any of them, but there was no such luck. Adrian seemed to be a struggling agent with a few clients.
Once Adrian had us seated, he took up his own opposite us, removing something he was working on and finally held me in his gaze.
"Wilfred Price, your mother's told me a lot about you."
"She hasn't told me anything about you." I retorted. Mum's hand went over to my knees. A warning.
"Well, agents are boring, you see. But you need someone like me if you want to book acting jobs."
"I already booked—" I stopped as Mum squeezed on my knees.
"Yes, I've heard. Very good, you must've been stoked to get the part out of all those kids. It's special to have someone like Leslie Brisculle cast you in a play." Adrian smiled, "But that is open calls, and only one in a hundred productions are open calls if you go into West End. Not many casting directors have the patience to sit through thousands of auditions." Adrian explained gently. He sounded like he knew his stuff and had this tone and face that made you want to trust him. I was starting to dislike him.
"How does that whole process work?" Mum asked.
"When producers want to put on a play, they hire a director. When they have the final script and roles in mind, they go to a casting director, who sends out a letter to all the agents that they know with the details of the roles required. Casting directors always want a certain type of actor for each role, you see. Fat actor for a fat role, beautiful young woman for the role of a love interest. When I receive that letter, I can recommend the client I have into the audition by sending your pictures and submitting the details of your previous works. If they are happy with me and happy with you, they will audition you." Adrian answered.
That was a helpful bit of information.
Mum kind of turned to me slightly as if speaking to me. "So you're saying that most work is only given by a closed, secret channel to a few actors with agents?"
"Yes, precisely the case." Adrian nodded.
"Fine, Mum. I'll get an agent—" I added, "That doesn't mean it will be Mr. Bald-ini here." I stressed the bald out.
Adrian chuckled while my mum gave me a weak slap on the thighs.
"No, no. That's fine, I'm bald after all. Kid, I have worked in the industry for over twenty years. I have a lot of connections." I looked around the office in response, doubting it. He only chuckled more. "I used to work for the biggest agency, biggest names. One of the big bosses didn't like me and never moved me up to an agent. I was all but one in name. So trust me when I say, I've got connections and experience."
Adrian shook his head and looked at his photo board. "I've only got a few clients, but I want to make a real difference. You'll be shocked by how much cutthroat business goes on in there. I put my life savings into this, and I will do my best to find you work, because that's how I will put bread on my table." Adrian finished, his voice promised it true.
My trepidations about having an agent who only took money from me kind of melted away. Just in five minutes Adrian had presented every reason on why all the actors have agents. Still, I would make sure to get a contract that stipulated a smaller fee from open casting roles.
"Fine, I'm open to you being my agent. I want to know about your other clients and their work," I said.
"Oh, finally." Mum rolled her eyes.
"Yes, of course, but don't forget the audition."
"What audition?" I asked, confused.
"I get a dozen kids each time a show with child actors are put on. All trying to get an agent. Few years back, Oliver! had a revival in West End. Hundreds of children over those years, no one has made it outside of Oliver!." Adrian shook his head.
"Oh." I kind of knew that to be true, but it was something else to have it put into words.
Adrian stood up and pointed at the first picture of a blond woman.
"That there is Emily Ashford. Been acting for just a year, has booked about a dozen works. Mostly in TV and commercials…" It was fascinating to see all the photos of an actor in various roles, even if they were mostly the same.