Open Cast Call

I'm not clear on the plot, a throaty voice comes to mind, channeling through my fingertips.

"Its sketchy yet; I'm open to development."

As a sultry redhead with a quick temper, I make a sizzling leading lady.

"No!" I backspaced. "The main part is cast, based on a widowed mother I met at a swap meet who's a bounty hunter."

I can do a jealous sister, if the part has some meat to it.

"Occupation?"

I run an escort service. I know what you're thinking, but its strictly on the level.

"I'm sorry. I'm just don't see you in this novel. Come back for a short story."

Where's my mommy? A blue-eyed moppet with a missing front tooth invaded my thoughts.

"You've got the job, kid," I tapped a brief profile into the computer. "Next!"

The cursor flew across the screen, trailing a description of a dapper district attorney who played hardball in the courtroom and cat-and-mouse in the bedroom. Brighton Maxwell, he introduced himself.

"You don't strike me as the type to date a single mother."

I'm not ready to get saddled down with a family, but you never know when passion can blindside you.

I shook my head. "I see you with a leggy blonde in heels, not a mom in combat boots. Next!"

I've jumped bail, a gruff voice announced, an image of an unshaven man in ratty jeans raising his hand popped into mind.

"What were the charges?"

Drunken brawl, deadbeat dad...

"Hardly a challenging case. Next!"

I could double as leading man! She could fall for me when bringing me in, and...

"I'm writing this story, bub!" (delete delete delete) "Next!"

How about a detective? A husky cop in a denim collar shirt and sport jacket appeared, a strong jawline and slightly disheveled hair. I could work with her on a case.

"Married?"

Divorced. Wife couldn't take the hours.

"Done anything crooked in your career?"

He had a slightly lopsided smile. No, but I have been known to occasionally let my heart overrule my head.

"Interested in a leading man part?"

I've never been known as a lover boy, but I think I can handle it.

I grinned. "Stick around."

My fingers pounded out a scenario featuring a floppy eared rabbit in a cabbage patch. "Wrong apartment. The illustrator for children's books is three doors down. Next!"

Would an older woman do? My fingers danced over the keys, bringing to life a plump, gray-haired grandmother with perfect posture and a stern voice.

"Qualifications?"

Mother-in-law.

"Ahh," I brightened. "An antagonist."

A cold but concerned know-it-all willing to go to the mat to get my way.

"You're hired!"

I paused for a swig of coffee and a stretch. I can work with this crew. Satisfied, I hit the save command and opened a new document. "Okay people, lets do some improv and see where it takes us..."